Uhura pressed the buzzer to Spock’s quarters, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth while bouncing on the balls of her feet. She ignored her crewmates staring at her with curious expressions, especially when Spock granted her entrance. He barely spared her a glance when she came in, his attention riveted on his personal computer, a dinner tray with a partially eaten meal pushed away to the side.

“Miss Uhura,” he greeted, turning to her with a tiny frown. “We do not have lessons today.”

“No,” she agreed, her nerve suddenly leaving. Now that she was alone in his presence, Uhura was at a loss of what she could say…was allowed to say. The tense moments she’d endured while trying to futilely hail the Galileo and the utter relief she’d felt when the five survivors had been beamed back had at first released themselves on a full-bodied laugh thanks to the captain and Dr. McCoy’s attempts to get Spock to admit to tapping into his human side. Yet that mirthful reprieve left nothing but her delayed acknowledgment of the fear she’d been feeling when Captain Kirk had ordered a course to Makus III without Spock, McCoy, or the others onboard.

“Miss Uhu—”

“I’m glad you’re all right!”

Spock shut his mouth at her outburst and sighed, not looking at her, but at a space on the floor by her booted feet. Uhura clasped her arms to her chest, and the fingers of her left hand began mimicking a L’Rairidan tune she’d been learning on her lute against her right forearm. This was to keep from throwing her arms around him, something she didn’t bother denying herself when she’d tucked her face into Dr. McCoy’s neck, fighting tears and breathing him in while he rocked her back to calm her an hour before.

Spock remained quiet for so long, Uhura started walking backwards to take her leave.

“I just wanted to say that—”

“It is very disconcerting to have a set philosophy rendered insufficient when it is needed most.”

Uhura’s fingers stilled on her forearm, especially when Spock’s eyes met hers. It was all she could do not to gasp at the sheer vulnerability she saw in the brown orbs. She knew this was a deeply intimate glimpse into his thoughts, and she felt honored he’d share it with her.

Because of that, she could only gaze at him, trying to situate this version of Spock with all the others she’d come to learn.

“You have nothing to say to that?”

Uhura stood straighter, holding her arms tighter to her, then shrugged. “You would like me to?”

Spock crossed his arms at his chest and tilted his head to the side. “I do not believe you came to me just to stare.”

She shrugged again. “You are a very handsome man, Mr. Spock.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I shall pass that assessment to my parents, Miss Uhura.”

She laughed, some of her uncertainty riding away on the sound. She chanced a few steps toward him and Spock stood, his hands behind his back. The stance was so familiar to her, sort of like a mental security blanket. How many times would she look to her left and see him like that, watching the view screen as his brilliant mind came up with one conjecture or another. To think they’d been close to never having this posture on the bridge again brought the fear back.

“I am well, Uhura,” Spock assured her.

She sighed and chuckled self-deprecatingly. “I know. I guess I needed to see for myself.”

She remembered the look he’d given her as he’d passed her console right before the captain and Dr. McCoy had started teasing him, how it had been full of puzzlement, yet with little of the exasperation he’d reserved for the others. She’d been grinning with amusement then, having been listening to McCoy’s off-the-record account of events and the “creative license” he had employed as he’d done so. McCoy’s voice had vacillated from angry to irritated to baffled to proud as he’d told the story, making Uhura mull over the fact a man who spent so much time repressing his emotions had no problems evoking them from others.

“As with whether or not I was ticklish,” Spock said, bringing her out of her thoughts, the corners of his mouth softening.

Uncomfortably thrilled at his remembrance, Uhura came closer anyway, enough to feel his body heat through her uniform. “Yes.”

“And the location of my heart,” he added, raising an eyebrow.

“I’d stumbled upon that discovery,” she whispered, her hands balling into fists nervously.

Nodding briefly, he leaned forward, as if he were telling a secret. “It still beats, Uhura,” he said quietly.

Before her brain could dictate otherwise, Uhura pressed her hand against the space where his heart was, feeling its rapid pulse, the heat of him so foreign and welcome against her palm. Uhura closed her eyes, cursing herself for the tears that had sprung in them, gasping when his hand covered hers. He did not move it away, but rather applied more pressure to her hand. They locked eyes again, and a tear slid down her cheek.

“I am well,” he repeated, taking his thumb to remove the trail the tear had left.

“You are,” Uhura said, her brows furrowing and her voice firming, her hand bunching up the fabric of his tunic. “You are very well, and very good, Commander Spock.”

Spock tightened his hand around hers and finally removed them from his torso, but he didn’t let go. This was partially because Uhura had tightened her fingers around his as well.

“They wouldn’t have survived without you—”

“Lieutenant—”

“Your act of faith was logical, Spock,” Uhura insisted.

He huffed out a breath and looked over her head. “Faith? I was not aware that was a synonym for ‘desperation’.”

She scoffed. “Desperation implies recklessness, lack of hope, lack of any sort of thought process to do an act. What you did…was none of those things,” Uhura explained.

“You are insinuating I made a logical, calculated risk,” Spock said, turning his attention to her again.

“If that is how you need to define faith, be my guest,” Uhura said with a slight grin.

She didn’t know how it was possible, but it appeared Spock had grown five more feet, his spine straight and the reclamation of his confidence adding to his height. Uhura felt she had to crane her neck to continue looking into his eyes, and hers widened when he squeezed her fingers.

“Would you care for an impromptu lesson, Miss Uhura?”

She smiled brightly and nodded. “Sure!” Uhura started to go back to her quarters, but he didn’t let go of her hand.

“You do not need to retrieve your lute. This lesson is more for me than for you.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I require an audience to determine if I have performed adequately.”

“Okay…”

He guided her to the practice bench and after they were both settled, he picked up his lute and began to play. Closing his eyes, Spock allowed his fingers to strum expertly along the strings. Uhura managed, just barely, not to cry, but she couldn’t describe what she heard as anything but beautiful.

“Truly?” Spock asked when Uhura told him so as the last note lingered in the air.

“Yes, Spock! The music’s crescendo and the frantic flurry of notes at the climax were just breathtaking to me! And then the way it all calmed down, like a gentle breeze after a windstorm. Who wrote that?”

The tiny smile he gave her made her heart trip. “I did.”

“You! When?”

“As I was playing.”

Uhura clasped her hands together so she wouldn’t grab his face and kiss him. She bent forward in her lap for extra safeguards to prevent such an emotional outburst. “That’s amazing, Spock.”

“Thank you. My mother would play twentieth-century free-form jazz when she did, as she called, ‘spring cleaning’. It did not make much sense to my father and me, but it would intrigue me nonetheless.”

“It’s like playing what you’re thinking,” Uhura said, twisting her body a bit because her hands were unavailable, “what you’re feeling, and trust it will sound like something!”

“My confusion is beautiful to you, then?” Spock asked, setting the lute flat in his lap and leaning forward.

“All states of your mind are beautiful to me, Spock,” Uhura murmured, and then she snapped back from him, feeling suddenly very exposed, as if some rogue strain of the Psi 2000 virus had suddenly seeped into her skin.

“Oh, Spock, I’m—”

“Fascinating.”

Uhura pursed her lips and stood. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“I am not uncomfortable, Uhura. However, the same cannot apparently be said for you,” Spock said, standing as well after placing his lute on its stand. They were on either end of the practice bench just watching each other, but Uhura looked away first.

“I don’t mean to be,” Uhura said finally.

“Have I done something that unsettles you?”

“You mean aside from almost burning up in the atmosphere?”

“Yes.”

Uhura laughed for a quick moment and stepped further back from him. Why did this revelation have to come now? At some point during their time, her feelings for Spock had bloomed from simple attraction to friendship to something…she wasn’t quite sure he’d appreciate. She saw how standoffish he could be with Christine, and the last thing Uhura wanted was to be treated the same. Somehow, for some reason, Spock had let her a little inside his circle—maybe not as far as the captain or even Dr. McCoy, but she was there, and she didn’t want to leave it.

“I’ll be all right,” she ultimately said, squaring her shoulders and dropping her hands to her sides.

Spock stared at her for a long moment. Uhura maintained eye contact, wanting to prove to herself she would be all right. This wasn’t the first unrequited crush she’d ever experienced. And his friendship was so very dear to her. That was much more he granted most on the ship, after all.

“Of that I have very little doubt, Uhura,” he said, coming to her. “Are you ready to return to your quarters?”

A corner of her mouth lifted. “Kicking me out, Spock?”

His eyes softened and he inclined his head. “No, but the hour grows late. I merely wish for you to have the appropriate amount of rest for your shift tomorrow.”

She allowed her smile to fully form. “You always watch out for me.”

“Yes. You are vital to the efficient productivity of this crew, Uhura.”

“As are you. Extremely so.”

He looked into a faraway place again, not answering immediately. “Thank you, Uhura.”

“You’re welcome, Spock.”

He approached her, offering his arm. She was surprised by the blatant gesture, yet pleased by it nonetheless. He settled his hands behind his back and they left his quarters, both of them ignoring the amazed looks they received. Spock had just launched into a musing about free jazz being the sonic equivalent of the kal-toh game with Uhura transfixed on his every word.