Required Reading

I don't own anything Star Wars, Star Trek, The Dark Knight Rises, The Fantastic Four, or Ninja Assassin. Characters you don't recognize belong exclusively to me. I tend to pair male protagonists with women of color, specifically black women. If this poses a problem with your ability to suspend disbelief, then this fanfic blog isn't for you. Otherwise, do enjoy.


What He Needed

First Published: December 2009
Summary:  Uhura gives Spock exactly what he needs

I knew he needed me. 

I abandoned my post and followed him into the lift.  Nothing else mattered other than comforting him in his time of need.

I wanted to cry, to bawl, to scream my frustration.  I knew how much he loved his mother.  He transmitted his feelings to me not long after I became his girl.  Amanda meant everything to him.  To lose her in such a manner…I stopped the lift.

I knew he needed me.

It was in his eyes.  No one else would have been able to see it but me.  I loved this man and I knew him better than anyone, except for maybe Amanda.  I felt his pain acutely, as if it were my own.  It was my own.  When Spock hurts, I hurt worse.  I’m the avenue of his emotions.  What he can’t express, he channels through me and I am a welcome receptacle.  He is worth everything.

I knew he needed me.

“I’m sorry,” I said.  “I’m sorry.  I’m so, so sorry.” 

I didn’t let my tears fall, but I cradled his face in my hands and gently kissed his lips, his cheek, and then his neck.  I stood on my toes and hugged my man, stroking the back of his head.  He held me, only for an instant, but he took that moment to lose himself in me.  He put his head on my shoulder.  He needed me.

“What do you need?  Tell me, what do you need?”

He pulled away and looked at me.  He restarted the turbolift.

“I need everyone…to continue performing admirably.”  His voice wavered for a split second.

I stroked his hair and cupped his face again.  I knew what he was going to say before he said it.  I knew him and knew what my response should be.


I nodded my head and kissed him, stroking his cheek with my fingers.  I rested my head against his chin.  The turbolift doors opened and he walked away.  I looked back at him, knowing that he needed me still.  And I would be there for him. 

When we headed back to Earth, the ship was extremely damaged.  We had enough impulse power to make it home safely.  We were granted shore leave while the Enterprise was repaired.  I stayed in the community lodging Starfleet kept for officers on furlough.  He joined me a day later after his briefing.  He came in and closed the door behind him.  I knew the look in his eyes.  He needed me.
With me, he was able to release himself, his emotions, his heartache and his pain.  Within me, he expunged his grief over the loss of Amanda and Vulcan.  I gave him everything he needed and everything he wanted.  He held me, trembling, burying his face between my breasts.  I stroked his hair, scratching his scalp in long, slow sweeps as he transmitted his feelings to me.  My eyes were filled with tears and this time I let them fall.

He didn’t have to speak.  We didn’t need to speak.

He stayed with me for some time and I comforted him in the ways he required.  I read Vulcan poetry to him, poems his mother read to him as a child.  I prepared his meals and gave him his space.  He listened to music when we lay together on the couch.  He stroked my hair and my body at odd times; taking the comfort I would so readily give.

I loved this man.  He needed me.

When he took his showers, he wanted me with him.  We made love; my back against the tiles and my arms and legs wrapped around him.  He stared into my eyes as he thrust into me.  His desire was volatile and he burst within me like a watermelon dropped from a great height.  I welcomed him, as always, and his need matched my own.

He told me that he was going to resign his Starfleet commission to assist in establishing a Vulcan colony on Beta Orionis.  He needed to help rebuild his race.

“I will go with you,” I said.

“I would not ask you to give up your position aboard the Enterprise, not after you have worked so very hard to obtain it.”

“I’m going with you,” I said.  My career in Starfleet meant the world to me, but he meant more.  Much more.

Later, he told me that he was advised to remain in Starfleet because it would feel right.  I was happy about that.

“I regret, however, not taking a direct approach in participating in the efforts to establish the colony,” he said.  “There are so few of us left.  But my place is here.”
He looked at me.  He didn’t have to say it.  But I knew. 

I knew he needed me.

After the ship was repaired and we left on our mission, I realized that he had taken a very direct approach in the effort to rebuild his race.

*          *          *
I needed her.

I never had to say it.  She knew it.  She violated every regulation that requires she man her station at all costs while on duty.  She followed me.  She knew that I needed her.  She comforted me and let me know that she was there for me.
I did not acknowledge our relationship publicly, as it would have been inappropriate.  When I chose to go to the Narada with Captain Kirk, it was logical that I do so.  She was there with me, for me, as she has been since we became involved.  I wanted this phenomenal woman to know that I loved her and needed her and I told her that I would be back.

“You better be,” she said.  “I’ll be monitoring your frequency.”  Her eyes are remarkable and say more than her words ever could.

“Thank you, Nyota.”

She kissed me and stroked my chin.  She rested her forehead against my chin and sighed.  Then she turned to give Captain Kirk a look that I interpreted as a command to make sure that he returned to the Enterprise with me.  The captain was very surprised indeed to see that she was with me.

In case I did not survive our visit to the Narada, I was going to relay a message to her through the captain, but he interrupted me. 

“It’ll work,” he said.

When we returned, she was relieved.  As our relationship was no longer secret (a testament to Mr. Scott’s quick assimilation into the ranks of popular crew members), I did not hesitate to let her know that I was relieved to see her again.   I did not think that I would; the statistical chances of our survival were less than 4.3%.  But we survived and she was waiting for me on the bridge.

I needed her.

On Earth, I found her after my debriefing.  I was drawn to her; my need for her was very great.  She knew that I needed her.  She was my conduit, my remaining link to this world.  With her, I acknowledged my human-ness and allowed my grief to consume me through her.  She accepted me; she never denies me.  She comforted me.  She loved me.  She gave me what I sought.  I remained with her for some time; I had no need of anything and anyone but her.  We did not speak, as there was little need to speak.  Our link was stronger than mere words and whenever we touched, we spoke volumes.

I needed her.

My grief translated into desire and I channeled it through her.  My bereavement was enormous, tangible, and insistent.  It was more than I could handle, but I did not have to handle it alone.

I needed her.

I did not want her very far from me.  I needed to touch her often, to anchor myself in her, in her love.  But I had a duty to my Vulcan heritage and decided my efforts were better served helping to rebuild my race.  I would not ask her to give up her career, even though I knew she would.

“I will follow you,” she said.

My older self advised me to remain in Starfleet as an act of faith.  He was obviously aware of events that I have not yet experienced.  I told her that I was going to stay in Starfleet and ask to serve aboard the Enterprise.  I did not want to be anywhere else.

I needed her.
*          *          *
She comes to me one day while I am in the ship’s library.  She is glowing.  She has always been beautiful, but now she is positively radiant.  There has been a noticeable difference in her since we left on our mission. I did not pry. I knew that she would tell me when she was ready for me to know.  I was fascinated by her.

“I have something to tell you,” she says.

I already know what it is.

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