All the World Is Changed - Ch. 2

[sesh_khem]

 

Nyota threw her bags in her old bedroom at home and spent the rest of the day with her family. She found the box when she unpacked later that evening.

She smiled as she read the card. So Spock had gotten her something as well! But why didn’t he say anything when she’d given him her gift? She shrugged and tore off the paper and opened the box. She gasped; it was a pendant with a gold chain—a gold star with a diamond in the center. The star had a beautiful design etched in it…no…not a design…were those words? She ran downstairs to search for a magnifying glass.

Seated at the kitchen table, she painstakingly transcribed the words on the pendant.

“What are you doing?” her sister asked as she came downstairs looking for leftovers.

“My friend Spock gave me this pendant. I’m trying to read the inscription.”

“Damn that’s tiny! Why don’t you put it in dad’s scanner? That’ll make it easier on your eyes.”

She made her way to her father’s study and placed the pendant on the scanner. Soon an enlarged image of the design fell into her hands. She sat at her father’s desk and began reading.

Half an hour later she returned to her room, one hand clutching the pendant that was now hanging from her neck. She put the image and her translation on her nightstand and quickly dressed for bed. She turned off the light and snuggled under the covers. She said aloud to the darkness, “He loves me. He loves me.”

There was no way she’d get to sleep. She sat up, tuned on the light and pulled out the translation.

The face of all the world is changed, I think,
Since first I heard the footsteps of thy soul, in Vulcan.

Move still, oh, still, beside me, as they stole
Betwixt me and the dreadful outer brink, Hebrew.

Of obvious death, where I, who thought to sink,
Was caught up into love, and taught the whole, in Romulan.

Of life in a new rhythm. The cup of dole
God gave for baptism, I am fain to drink, Italian.

And praise its sweetness, Sweet, with thee anear.
The names of country, heaven, are changed away, Adorian.

For where thou art or shalt be, there or here;
And this... this lute and song... loved yesterday, Klingon.

(The singing angels know) are only dear,
Because thy name moves right in what they say*.  Swahili

She turned out the light again and pulled the covers around her. She went over their history in her head.

Her first year at the academy, when he was her professor, she’d acknowledged that he was attractive (okay, very attractive), but he wasn’t her type. Too skinny; she liked a little bulk on her men. Gaila thought she was crazy.

She got to know Spock as a colleague when she served as his assistant. Her awe of his intelligence and discipline soon gave way to a fondness for him. “Get Spock a social life” became her hobby. The man was so self-contained! His closest friend was Captain Pike, and he had a few sparring partners and chess opponents, but he kept them all at a distance. He could have found her continued efforts at “socializing” him an invasion of privacy or intrusive or just plain annoying, but he took it all in stride, seldom saying no to her invitations. She was careful to observe his cultural boundaries but often pushed his personal ones.

They’d become friends, close enough that Spock was there to help pick up the pieces when she split with Casey.

At that stage, she’d decided she needed to focus her attention on work and swore off serious relationships until after graduation. Oh, she knew how to blow off steam, and could out-drink half the men she knew. But the emotional energy she wasted on Casey would be better spent on her objective: The U.S.S. Enterprise. And Spock had been there to help attain that goal.

Since neither of them dated, they willingly served as each other’s escort to events. His quarters were more conducive to study than her dorm room, especially when Gaila “entertained.” Then there was their shared love of music and literature and language and….

It hit her like a boulder on a butterfly: Why did she find herself introducing him to inappropriate and incompatible women?

Because she wanted him for herself.

She sat in the darkness calling herself names for being so shortsighted. She, who prided herself on reading him (and, for that matter, knowing herself), had never seen this coming.

She jumped out of bed and headed for the com link. Then she stopped herself. She had a better idea.

***

On New Year’s Eve, Spock returned from his week with his cousins. While he felt a great fondness for his human relatives, he was glad to be home in his own quiet space. But when he opened the door to his quarters, he immediately wished to be elsewhere. Loud and boisterous as his family was, his time with them did help push away the thoughts of Nyota. Did she figure out his puzzle? What would she say? There was no logic in worry. She would return in three days. He would find out then.

He busied himself with unpacking and checking his messages. There was nothing left to prepare for the next semester, so all tasks complete, he settled in to meditate.

The doorbell chimed, and he mentally sighed. He told Christopher not to attempt to drag him out to a New Year’s celebration this year. He maintained his position, eyes closed, and called out, “Enter.”

Soft footsteps crossed the threshold. It was not Christopher.

“Spock,” she said softly.

“Nyota…” Spock stumbled to his feet. “I…I thought you would return on Sunday.”

“I…decided I wanted to spend New Year’s Eve with you, if that’s alright.” She looked at the floor.

“Yes, of course.” He was glued to the spot.

She seemed to shake off her sudden shyness, and somewhat like her old self, she walked to him and hugged him. “Thank you for the necklace,” she whispered before releasing him.

Two spots of olive suddenly dotted his cheeks. “I am gratified that you found it pleasing. Did you…I wonder if….”

“Seven different languages,” she said, holding and looking at the pendant. “Two lines of a poem in each language. A poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning.” She looked up at him, as if to be sure. “Spock, do you mean to say—”

“Yes,” he cut her off and stepped closer, the question in his eyes. Oh, those eyes, she thought. She smiled and closed the distance between them. He reached up and stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. She closed her eyes at the heat of his touch.

I’ve had the smartest, hottest guy on campus, right here, all this time….For a genius, you can be kinda slow, Nyota.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the softest of kisses. She gasped at the heat of his lips and the sudden need to feel them again. She leaned closer and he kissed her again, but this time with a passion that met her own, growing desire. She pulled away to catch her breath.

“Spock. How long?”

“When you were no longer my assistant, I found I experienced your absence more intensely than anticipated.”

She thought back to that time. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

He took her hand and led her to the sofa. “I did not want to jeopardize our friendship. And then—”

“And then I started dating the idiot Casey.”

He nodded. “After you recovered from the… regrettable end of that relationship, I found I had difficulty broaching the subject.” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips. “You will graduate soon. I could not risk losing you merely because I hesitated to speak.”

She cupped his face in her hands and pulled him closer. “Thank the gods you did,” and proved her gratitude with her kiss.

“I believe,” he said when they came up for air, “the accepted practice dictates that I now ask you for a date.”

She laughed. “I say we dispense with ‘accepted practice’ and consider this our first date.”

He raised an eyebrow as he considered this. “I concur.” And she squealed with delight as he lifted her in one swift motion and sat her on his lap.

***

 Christopher Pike stood in the hall, his hand poised to request entry. He heard Nyota’s laughter and stopped. “Looks like you’re about to have a seriously Happy New Year, my friend,” he murmured, and headed to his party with a grin.
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"The face of all the world is changed" by Elizabeth Barrett Browning, from Sonnets from the Portuguese.