Late morning sun peeked through the window of her room, falling on her desk. Uhura didn't notice its warmth.

She stared at her monitor without really seeing the schematics of an enhanced ion filter. She didn't particularly care at the moment. Command hadn't expected favorable results when they granted permission for her to develop the device. Still, the project had sustained her for the past two years, had given her a legitimate reason to remain a member of Starfleet.

A communicator that kept away teams connected to their ships was a very real need. For the past two hours, its importance had paled beside the knowledge that now only a single wall separated her from Spock. She could feel her son's happiness spilling over. Whatever her husband might be feeling was a mystery.

He had wanted to her to stay with him and Sanek as they toured Ambassador Spock's home. That should have pleased her. Strangely, it didn't. She was left feeling even sadder and more confused. She couldn't understand why.

Parted from me and never parted, they had promised.

Uhura scoffed at the untruth and forced herself to continue working.

So feeble when compared to the mental walls that truly kept them apart. And yet she had been certain the space was needed.

_____

For two days, Sanek had spoken of little other than his father's imminent arrival. Uhura had been counting the days for two years.

She'd tried to focus on her son's obvious joy and incessant chatter. Maintaining her composure had become almost second nature - it was necessary to both her work for Starfleet and for interacting in Vulcan society. But just as she'd feared it would, Spock's presence threatened to unravel everything she had struggled to learn during daily sessions with his counterpart.

At first, he'd seemed content to listen to Sanek's stories of life on T'Khasi Vokaya. She'd felt comfortable - natural - encouraging him when he was uncertain about melding with their son. After, Spock had started watching her. It had taken all of her concentration not to squirm under his scrutiny. Then, just for a fraction of a second - several minutes into his stare - he'd looked stricken. Uhura didn't understand it - couldn't begin to imagine the cause - but she was sure it somehow related to her. Without meaning to, she'd disappointed him. Again.

She couldn't meet his gaze and remain serene, so for the remainder of the trip to Spock Tela'at's home, she watched everyone except her husband. It was just easier that way.

_____

"Nyota ndogo."

Uhura didn't turn away from the screen. "I don't like that name anymore."

"It has never bothered you before today," her father said. She listened to the sound of his footsteps moving across the smooth stone floor. "Should your husband's arrival change what I have called you for twenty-five years?"

Her whole body tensed against a flare of emotions too varied for her to isolate and identify. She knew only that if she looked at him, she wouldn't be able keep from crying.

"Baba, it's.. it's harder than I thought it would be." Her voice was so low she wondered if he would hear. She hoped he wouldn't ask her to repeat herself. "I thought I knew how to..."

Benjamin Uhura had the patience of a Vulcan and didn't urge her to hurry as searched for composure. The tears burned in her eyes. A deep, juddering breath and a roll of her shoulders held them back.

"Spock... Tela'at..." Her voice was tiny, broken. "I thought everything he taught me would make it easy, but... but it's not and there's still so much I don't understand."

She looked at her baba's concerned face and the tears burst free. Then his arms were around her and somehow, she was in his lap and he was in her chair and he was rocking her and crooning and telling her that life was never easy, but that maybe, just maybe, the ambassador's lessons had given her something like a choice.

__________

"We are not Vulcan," Baba had said before lying her on the bed. "At times, we require a different release than what they can find through their meditations. Your tears are healthy, Nyota ndogo."

And it was true. She felt better for having cried in her father's arms. Her mind was clearer. Her future, and everything it would bring, didn't seem as bleak.

The sun was much higher in the sky. Soon she'd have to join the others for the midday meal. Until then, she decided, it wouldn't hurt to seek peace in the Vulcan way.

__________

This calm was fuller, deeper. Uhura extinguished the firepot, breathing in the last tendrils of incense. She blinked several times before finally leaving her eyes open.

The door swung open at her back.

"I'm fine now, Baba," she said as she rose to her feet. "Am I late for lunch?"

"I am not your father," Spock said.

For a moment, Uhura was frozen. But her tranquility held and, slowly, she turned to face her husband.

I apologize if they sent you to fetch me." She clasped her hands behind her back. "I did not mean to keep everyone waiting."

Spock didn't answer right away. Instead, his gaze moved from hers to the asenoi at her feet then back to her face.

"That is not why I have come." She didn't know if the stiff posture that accompanied his word was natural to him now, or if it was born of something new. Uncertainty? Disapproval? What he said next did nothing to solve the mystery. "You are now... at peace?"

His question confused her. Aroused her suspicions. Set her off balance.

"What do you need?"

He stepped forward, closing the door behind him as he came. The movements were fluid, graceful in the way she remembered him to be.

"Sanek sensed your distress and became upset. I was not able to soothe him. In the end, I was forced to seek my t'dahsu's aid." Spock's tone wasn't cool. It wasn't detached or indifferent. It added to her confusion. It broke her calm and reignited her fear. "Why have you chosen to obscure our bond?"

His eyes didn't leave hers.

Cocking her head to the side, she tried to imbue her voice with everything his lacked.

"Why are you so mad at me?" It was harder to choose her words when she focused on hiding her feelings.

He stared at her, his face an open question before he visibly calmed himself. His voice gentled. "I am not angry with you, Nyota. I merely seek to understand why you have hidden yourself away from me."

How did he even know?

Her mind flashed back to that moment in the car. The brief instance when she thought she saw his agony. Had there been a probing just before? There was no way to know now, and... All at once the unfairness of it all, of the time she had spent alone, of decisions made without her consent, of... everything.

Why argue now? What had changed?

Anger escaped her control and she said the first thing that came to mind. "You did it first!"

Spock continued to watch her, his face now so composed she couldn't begin to guess what he was thinking. How he was reacting.

"You promised! ‘Parted from me and never parted' but-" The tears welling up refused to be held back and she was mortified to feel a lump for in her throat. The rest to be said. A hard swallow gave her just strength to croak, "But you left me alone long before you sent me here."

_______________________________________________

But speechless was our love, and with veils has it been veiled.
Yet now it cries aloud unto you, and would stand revealed before you.
And ever has it been that loves knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.
- Khalil Gibran, The Prophet: The Coming of the Ship.