Story [Star Trek: AOS] "The Worlds Your Hands Touch" | Multi-post, Fic-Gift for WarmNyota_SweetAyesha!

Title: “The Worlds Your Hands Touch”
Author: Mira_Jade
Fandom: Star Trek: AOS

Genre: Fluff/Mush, Drama
Rating: PG
Time Frame: post-Star Trek: 2009
Characters: Nyota Uhura/Spock, Ensemble Crew


Summary: Though Nyota Uhura couldn’t imagine being anywhere else but stationed aboard the Enterprise, it still takes an entire crew to make a ship feel like home. While they may have been baptized in fire, the beginning of their Five Year mission sees more than one challenge as they navigate the new structures of their command and working in tandem as a single cohesive unit. Yet they’ll persevere through this the same way they do everything else: together.

A series of vignettes about family and belonging, simply put.


Author’s Notes: This is a fic-gift for the one and only @WarmNyota_SweetAyesha, who is an unparalleled source of encouragement and positivity on the boards for myself and so many others. As such, when I received her ST request, I couldn’t help but make the separate elements of her request into a multi-post story of inter-connected ficlets – as she deserves all of this and more! Thank-you for being you, my friend! I hope that you enjoy.


Disclaimer: Nothing is mine, but for the words.

Spoiler: The request

Desired aspects:
Shore leave on the beach
An awkward moment smoothed over
Nyota entertaining in the rec lounge after shift
Peach orchid

Do not want: Anything too angsty although the scenes above could happen after the wrap up of a stressful mission

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“The Worlds Your Hands Touch”
by Mira_Jade​

I.

After Nero, It took three months for them to return to full-time active duty aboard the Enterprise.

Three months in which their last semester at the Academy was waved and the surviving members of her class were all awarded their final diplomas on the merits of time served. Three months to say goodbye to her family and manage all her loose ends on Earth as she prepared for a five year mission journeying beyond the furthest reaches of their known galaxy – just as she’d been eager to embark on since the day she first sent her application to Starfleet after graduating from university. In her own way, Nyota was grateful for the expediency; she couldn’t imagine sitting in a classroom again after seeing what she had seen, after having experienced what she had experienced. She couldn't imagine a lecture hall missing so many familiar faces, at that. Even just a scant few months ago, she had thought to embark on her first deployment as a junior officer at the bottom of the command structure, as was only natural to start, but now, to be the senior-most communication’s officer of the Enterprise itself? She couldn’t quite believe that she was where she was now: as a lieutenant specializing in xenolingustics at the helm of the fleet's newly christened flagship, years before she should have achieved such a coveted status. Sometimes, everything they had gone through together, fighting against Nero, didn’t feel quite real yet.

If felt the slightest bit more, the day they attended the unveiling ceremony for the monument that memorialized those who had given their lives in the battle for Vulcan. There on the Academy green, the names of the late officers and cadets were ingrained in perpetuity for all to see. Listed along with the crew of the Farragut, Nyota had found Gaila’s place on the plaque and traced her fingertips over the freshly made engraving, and without warning the sudden reality of it all had slammed into her with all the force of a tidal wave. She had been so strong, so strong, through it all – especially for Spock, who had lost so much more than the handful of friends and classmates she was mourning, and she . . .

“The grief of one is not something that can be measured against the grief of another and counted as more or less,” Spock had been gentle to chide her later, holding her as the rain fell soft and comforting against the window-panes of his apartment, cocooning them in a world of their own. At the very least, she'd known from the ever burgeoning bond between their minds, he found a balm for his own pains, of a sort, comforting her rather than dwelling on his own losses. It was a feeling Nyota could understand in its entirety. They would get through this, she told herself, together.

Yes, together, she felt echo from his mind, humming like a promise, and she let herself drift off to sleep, lulled by the distant rumbling of the storm moving in from out over the ocean.

There was no rain in space; neither was there the distant rumble of the ocean waves against the seashore. There was only silence, and the seemingly infinite emptiness of the stellar ways.

Nyota couldn’t quite put her finger on it, at first, what was different about sleeping aboard the Enterprise as opposed to planetside on Earth. Those first few days of their mission had passed with nothing but giddiness and elation: she was here, she was here, she was here, where she had worked so hard for so long to be. No matter her unexpected commission of lieutenant – and all that came with learning how to field her command and guide the men and women working beneath her – she was had finally achieved her goal. Not only was she here with a commission aboard the Enterprise, but she was here as an equal by Spock’s side. Now, not even Kirk’s wagging eyebrows and unsubtle teasing as she submitted their co-signed request for shared living quarters and openly disclosed relationship could in any way infringe on her joy as she spent the day unpacking her boxes in the dual-occupancy officer’s quarters they were assigned as a result.

Even Spock had a sort of buoyant joy about him – as much as he would ever visibly express, of course – as they went about unpacking their belongings together. She could see it in the easy cadence of his voice and the slight crinkling about his eyes that passed for his version of a smile; the way he would pause and look at her, exhaling deeply every time she laughed outright aloud. She could feel it in the steady pulse of happiness that virbrated between their minds, flowing with the fathomless peace of a deep, steady river, set in its route by time. They made room in the cupboards of the kitchenette for her supply of coffee as well as his favorite blends of tea; her uniforms were hung neatly next to his, while they divided the space in the bathroom perhaps a little less evenly. His favourite – and now solemnly prized – red sand sculpture from Vulcan received a place of honor in their small sitting area in the common room of the suite, anchored on the table between the sofa and two chairs, while she hung her three scarlet and black wooden Maasai masks on the wall that had been a gift from her grandmother when she first moved into her dormroom at Oxford’s Academy of Xenolingustics. Those little bits of home – of both their homes – made the small space seem more like their own. That first night, instead of going down to the mess to eat with the rest of their crew, they had cooked together just like they had back at the Academy. Sharing that simple meal of vegetables and rice – with the addition of chicken, for her – had been the most content she’d felt in weeks.

If there were times when she had a hard time sleeping throughout that first week, she didn’t think much of it at first. Her dreams weren’t always kind in the dark – and neither were Spock’s. They tended to act as a shield for each other at night, taking turns patiently waking the other and falling back asleep with their minds protectively entwined; she was as grateful for him as she knew he was for her. Beyond that – which was a natural reaction to healing from trauma, she did not overly concern herself, she had the mingled stress and excitement of a new environment and new opportunities and new challenges. She was the furthest away from home she’d ever been, as well; which was a disquieting awareness that only really nagged at her when she tossed and turned in the night, unable to completely still her thoughts. That too, she expected to pass in time; every traveler, she reasoned, must have felt the same for eons before her, and would long after she was gone.

It wasn’t until, nearly a month later, that she had a day when she made more mistakes than she usually allowed herself – and she snapped at Kirk with a little more venom than was necessarily warranted, that McCoy pursed his mouth to observe her and later drew her aside.

“Are you sleeping okay, darling?”

Only the doctor – with his knowing eyes and his combination of concern and frank assessment could draw her up short. She opened her mouth to brush him aside, before snapping her teeth shut again; she wouldn't lie. “Yes,” she answered reflexively before amending, “maybe, I think? Mostly? I don’t know anymore.”

She sighed, and reached up to massage her temples – which felt tight and throbbing with the tell-tale beginnings of a headache, she could grudgingly admit. It was a headache that had been there for days, now, it took her a moment longer to conclude after a moment's reflection. She did feel weary on her feet.

“I’m currently treating more than a third of the crew for Restless Traveler’s Syndrome,” McCoy was gentle – but firm – to put a name to her ailment. “There’s no shame in admitting you need a little extra help until your sleep cycles regulate themselves naturally. All laughing aside, we’re not made to be up here, and your body knows what’s what even if your mind has convinced itself otherwise.” For that, his scowl was wry to say; his face twisted in a dark expression that she knew was more for her benefit than his own. Still, it did the trick: she couldn’t help but smile.

Spock raised a brow when he noticed the prescription tablets later, but he didn’t comment on McCoy's diagnosis aloud besides a brush of encouragement and fortitude that passed between their minds. The sleep aid did end up helping, slightly if not mostly, and she didn’t snap at Kirk again – more than he deserved, anyway.

It wasn’t until two months into their mission that they came upon an uninhabited Class M planet with a biosphere similar to that of Earth’s. Such a find was always of note to the Federation – livable planets that could sustain a population were always in need for colonists and refugees and explorers alike, and they planned to send a team down to document their discovery. When Spock said aloud – a note in his voice that Uhura knew for pleased surprise even if his infliction remained the same as it ever was – that there were salt-water oceans not unlike Earth’s. Those oceans were bordered by white sand beaches, as far as he could tell – a comment which had Kirk leaving his chair behind in order to peer down at the readings on his science officer’s monitor.

“You know what?” Kirk caught on with no further encouragement needed, “I think that a beach day is just what the doctor ordered for everyone aboard. Good call, Spock!” He slapped Spock’s shoulder in his enthusiasm – to which Spock raised a brow in a bemused expression, glancing down at Kirk's hand and then up again – before turning and ordering that the staff be split up into consecutive shifts for shore leave. Fun in the sun, this time, was on the captain’s orders.

Nyota hadn’t realized just how much she had missed the ocean until she took her turn with the rest of the senior command crew. At the Academy, the restless waters of the Pacific had become a part of her every day routine. She would jog on the boardwalk in the mornings before class, and she'd spent too many weekends to count with Gaila and their friends hanging out on the beach. Later, with Spock, walking where the sea met the sand became something of a tradition between them. They’d travel even further south or north up and down California's coastline to spend time together away from prying eyes as their relationship grew – once, they'd even gone all the way up to Washington's Olympic National Park. They'd kayaked with the resident orca pods around the San Juan islands together on one particularly unforgettable weekend away from the Academy. She learned so much about him in those quite moments, more so than she ever could have done when surrounded by the hustle and bustle and weight of expectations upon them both at Starfleet. It was there, as the sun sank over the horizon of the Pacific almost a year ago now, that she first admitted to herself that she loved him. Only days later, she had finally said so aloud.

So, she couldn’t help but grin as she took her first step onto the sand – which had a softer consistency than any beach she’d ever been to on Earth; the scent of salt was just slightly flavored with something sweet and alien in her nose – and tugged Spock towards the water behind her. Even McCoy’s well meaning grumbling of, “You don’t even know what’s living in that water, Jim, let alone what kind of microbes and bacteria!” was unable to dampen their spirits as Kirk bodily pushed his friend into the waves without a single flicker of remorse.

There were tropical trees swaying with leafy fronds above the sand, and a reef with colourful and exotic fish unlike anything she’d ever seen on Earth was reachable not far from the shoreline. The water was crystal blue and unbelievably clear, untouched as the world was by any sort of industry or contamination from man. She swam until she was well over her head, floating in the ocean as the water undulated against her in welcome. She chased the current, amazed by the aquatic ecosystem and the fearless curiosity of the schools of fish flitting around the coral. The sun was warm on her skin as she lazily floated back to shore, and she thrived breathing in the unrecycled air and basking in the heady rays. She hadn’t realized everything she'd missed aboard a starship for the last few months now. In the end, she was far from the only one who thought so, and spirits were high as they brought out snacks to share in an impromptu picnic on the beach. A few from their group even set up a net and started a game of volleyball in the sand. A helmsman, one of Sulu's junior officers, even brought a ukulele and started to pluck a few notes; he had a voice that was rich and deep, and more than a few began to sing along with the more familiar tunes he played.

In short, Nyota thought as she walked hand in hand with Spock on the sand as the sun set – painting the horizon with streaks of violet and scarlet and highlighting the water with gold – the day was nothing less than perfect. It became a memory that was fast counted amongst her favourites.

It was only when, a week later, Spock placed a small disk on their bedside stand – which Nyota didn’t think much of at the time – that she realized what, exactly, his thoughtful looks had meant on the beach as he shared in her joy that day. The disk was a small speaker, it took her a moment to understand, and on it were recorded sounds of the ocean – of rain and storms, too, depending on the selection. Hearing the gentle cadence of the waves – even from an artificial source – sound over the ever present hum of the warp drive in the background touched something inside of her that she hadn’t even realized was missing.

“For a more restful night’s sleep,” had been his explanation – though he didn’t have to say so aloud. She understood, and she was touched by his thoughtfulness.

How could she not kiss him after that? She couldn’t help the joy in her touch – the contentment that she passed from her mind to his as best she could, and felt as it grew in return.

“I have all the home I need right here,” she whispered, even as the sound of the ocean echoed between them, long into the night.




!!!



~MJ