Disclaimer: The story and original characters are mine, but the ST:2009 characters are not. I make no profit from this writing exercise.

A/N: This story has a companion piece, Skin. Any parts of this story that have an asterisk will also have a corresponding chapter of Skin that expands on the event under discussion in this story. Check the end of the chapter to determine where to look. I've also started minor edits to make sure there aren't any continuity flaws.

First Contact

Chapter One: Does Your Mama Know About Me?

March 2258, San Francisco

I stood in front of the window of his apartment, my arms hugging my shoulders, my head hanging down slightly. I answered the question he had asked me moments before.

"No, Spock, I haven't told her about you," I sighed. "Not really. She knows there's someone in my life, but she doesn't know it's you. I don't even know how to begin telling her about you."

I turned towards him, finally ready to face him. His complete silence revealed to me that my confession was as he had suspected: Nyofu Uhura had no idea of what he was to me beyond being one of my instructors at Starfleet Academy. And now, in less than three hours, my mother would be arriving in San Francisco to visit me. She knew I was doing well at the Academy; she knew I had an Orion roommate; she knew I sang in the Chorale. She did not know that I was very involved with my former instructor, who was also the half-Human son of the Vulcan Ambassador. My mother hated surprises. This did not bode well for the evening.

Spock had once asked me about my relationship with my mother, and I had described it as atypical. When he'd asked for clarification on what I'd meant by atypical, I'd frowned, looked at the floor, and then explained quietly, hoping he'd only hear the words, and not the pain and confusion behind them.

"We're not like you'd expect a mother and a daughter to be. I mean, yeah, she's my mom, and I love her as such... But to tell you the truth, we're more like sisters. The bond between us and the boundaries that define us aren't always clear. One minute she's telling me all about some wickedly scandalous relationship she had before she married my step-father, and then as soon as she meets my eyes and sees me looking shocked that she just told me what she did, it's like she remembered that she's not supposed to talk to me like that. She pushes herself away from me, gets all xenoanthropologist on me. She starts analyzing me and my behavior, like I'm one of her projects, instead of just listening to me and offering parental advice. My mother sort of needs a translator of her own. I spent a lot of time when I was growing up explaining to others what she means and why she does the things she does. Apparently, I'm the only one who even halfway understands her. And even I'm not fluent in her language. She means well, though."

"I suppose there is no uncomplicated way to inform your mother about what we are to each other." He said finally, standing quietly behind me, rubbing my shoulders in an effort to comfort me. Was my guilt over keeping him a secret that obvious? He made no further comment, but seemed to be preparing himself for some sort of rejection, probably one based on his ancestry. Wasn't that what he was used to? Not being Human or Vulcan enough? With my mother, however, his ancestry would be the least of her reasons for rejecting him. I realized I'd better explain.

"Spock, she's not the type to go crazy about your ancestry. Or even about the fact that you were my teacher. What she will go nuts about is the fact that you're in my life at all. I'm her daughter, her treasure, and you're the person who's moving her over to a new place in my heart. That's all my mom needs to light into you when she sees you. I'm pretty sure she'll threaten you with some sort of bodily harm at least once tonight. And if she can get some of the other relatives to help, I'm pretty sure they'll even try to abduct you and threaten you again." I trailed off as I realized how it sounded. Okay, the family could be weird, but they were not going to harm a Starfleet Officer. At least, I didn't think so. No, they wouldn't. They were all good people at heart. And they loved me enough to trust me. I drew on my memories of them, drew on my better memories of her, and drew on the love I knew lay behind all of their oddities. And things had gone very well when he'd met my aunt, Makini, two months before. Remembering those things gave me strength. I turned in his arms to face him, hoping the look on my face would reassure him that my mother was not dangerous. "She won't actually try to hurt you physically, I swear she won't," I pleaded, hoping I didn't sound too desperate. "But she probably will try to provoke an emotional response of some sort." I loved her, but I just didn't trust her not to indulge in her one true vice: annoying people.

Staring into my eyes, Spock felt my conviction that my mother would only threaten him, if she said anything at all. He lowered the eyebrow he'd raised. He would trust my instincts on this, but he would be wary. "So you are saying that, in her way, your mother is territorial, and will respond to my presence in your life as an encroachment on her territory?"

"Yes. That's it exactly." Maybe he did understand. "I think you're the first person that ever made that comparison that quickly."

"Vulcan males are territorial as well, so I do understand the concept."

Uh-oh. I hadn't thought about that. Could my mother's behavior tap into that side of my lover's psyche? I hoped not. Unfortunately, my mother did have a history of annoying Vulcans in particular. They reminded her too much of her sister not to resist looking for potential wounds to pick at. Oh, oh, oh, I really should have put more thought into this meeting. Maybe I should have just opened up and told her everything when I'd had the chance. But there were some things that I really didn't want to share with my mother, even if she would have thought of it as girl-talk. Latest crushes were girl-talk. What I had with Spock was something else, something not meant for chit-chat and giggles.

"Besides, after what happened the last time I saw my mother*, well, I didn't think our mother-daughter relationship needed any more shocks right now."

"And if you do not mind my asking, what happened the last time you saw her?"

"When I was home for a visit during our last break, she barged in on me when I was in the shower. She's always done that to me, walked into areas that should have been private for me. Like she's never noticed that I'm not a little kid anymore. Do you remember how we spent the hours before I left?" I watched his face as the memory replayed itself in his mind. There was a slightly greenish blush on the tips of his ears. Oh, he remembered, all right, as I knew he would. "You left marks on me: on my neck, my breasts, my hips, my thighs." I closed my eyes, savoring my own memory of the afternoon.

"You marked me as well," he said quietly. But there was heat in the quiet, not cold observation.

"Yes," I said softly. "I was glad to. I wanted to make sure you didn't forget me while I was away." I moved closer, began running my hands over the places on his chest that I'd marked. "Forget-me-nots. And I had my own set to remember you by." I embraced him, laying my head on his chest, feeling the rise and fall as he breathed, feeling his heart beating against my side. "Anyway, when my mom barged into the bathroom, she noticed your marks."

He seemed to stop breathing for a moment. Spock and I had long debates on similar subjects, so I knew he had studied enough about Human parent-child relationships, old Earth customs concerning virginity (or the assumption of its existence), and similar customs among other species to suspect that my mother might not have been thrilled to discover that her daughter was now a fully adult woman. "And what did she say?" Spock's voice held a small note of caution.

"She just stared at me for a long time. She asked if the marks were what they looked like. And I said yes. Then she asked if I had consented to having them put on me. I said yes. Lastly, she'd asked me if I'd lost anything that couldn't be replaced. And I said yes. Finally, she said that she didn't like seeing those marks on me, and walked out of the bathroom."

"Before she saw the marks, did she know you were sexually active?"

"No."

For the first time since the subject had come up, Spock let me know that he had an inkling of what he was in for at dinner. I caught a ghost of his thoughts: capture (as in being in a public place without a clear way to exit gracefully); interrogation (as in being questioned about his life history); torture (as in being probed and analyzed by my mother in a test of wills and his devotion to me); invasion (as in being questioned on the most intimate details of our romantic life and expected to answer, lest he be perceived as being a pervert). Tonight promised to hold all the hazards of an away mission, without leaving the planet or meeting a new species. He tightened his hold on me and permitted himself a long sigh. This definitely did not bode well for the evening.

.

*see Skin, Chapter 1