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After Neera leaves, Chris tries to give her the rest of the day off, which Una firmly declines. He then tries to get her to visit Dr. Sanchez, which Una promises to do. “Later. Once I’ve had a chance to breathe.” Chris pretends to disapprove but capitulates easily, and Una spends her afternoon catching up on all that’s happened while she’s been gone. It’s a lot (“ Boy does this crew like to get itself into some hijinks,” she remarks, which earns her one of Erica’s trademark smirks), and by the time she gets back to her quarters, she’s more than ready for bed.
But first, she takes a gratuitously indulgent shower—five minutes past what regulations permit—and spends half an hour in front of her mirror relaxing with a bit of skincare. (Prison, no matter how humane, does not allow for such luxuries. She’s missed these creams almost as much as she’s missed her goose-down pillows.)
She’s just unwrapped the towel from around her head and given her damp hair a proper shake when her door chime sounds. Una glances at the clock. That had better not be Chris asking if she wants to take the night shift. Even she has her limits on this back in the saddle thing.
The chime sounds again and Una glances longingly at her bed before crossing to answer it. “Mr. Spock,” she says, more than a little surprised.
“Commander Chin-Riley. It is late. I am sorry to disturb you.”
“Nonsense,” she says, stepping back from the door. “It wouldn’t feel like home without work threatening to keep me out of bed.”
Spock steps over the threshold and stops, looking distinctly uncomfortable.
Una hangs her towel up to dry. “Thank you for what you said at the trial. I meant to tell you earlier, but—”
“It is quite all right. I understand. You are welcome. It was the truth, and I would speak it again.”
Una smiles and tries to keep her emotional reaction to a minimum. Usually, it’s not a problem. But the stress of the past week, coupled with seeing Neera again... It has her unbalanced. She offers Spock a seat, which he refuses. She sits on the edge of her bed and folds her hands.
“You seem uncomfortable, Mr. Spock. More than usual.”
“I admit I am dealing with a personal problem. It is of a delicate and confounding nature, and I have come to seek your advice.”
Una raises her eyebrows and clasps her hands tighter. “I’m intrigued. What’s the issue?”
“You are not human.”
Una looks down at her lap and presses her lips together, then looks up once she’s no longer threatening to laugh. “I think the past three months have established that, yes.”
“My apologies. I meant—you are not human, and yet you lived as a human for many years without anyone suspecting you were an alien.”
“What’s your point, Mr. Spock?”
He clasps his hands behind his back and stands up straighter. “I have researched Illyrian cultures to the extent that Federation databases allow. And it is cultures,” he says, making eye contact. “Plural. But a common theme among them is that they form intimate relationships...differently.”
“That’s right.”
“In a way that many humans would perhaps not understand.”
Something clicks in Una’s head. “You’re talking about romance.”
All the tension goes out of the young officer’s shoulders like solar particles out of a lightship’s sails. “That is correct.”
And if Spock is asking about romance... “You want to know if I’ve experienced it.”
Again, that relief, though it’s chased with apprehension. Una lets him hang for a moment while she gathers her thoughts.
“Normally I don’t like to discuss my personal life with my officers. But today has been far from normal, so I’ll make an exception.” Spock’s eyes lock onto hers. “No, I haven’t experienced romantic attraction. Not in a way most humans would define it.”
“Not even toward Counselor Ketoul or Lieutenant Noonien-Singh?”
Una flushes.
Spock snaps his eyes to a fixed point above her shoulder. “My apologies. I am—at a loss. It is causing me to speak impulsively. I will leave.”
“Spock.”
He stops, half-turning back toward her.
“You do know there’s nothing wrong with being different, right?”
“Of course. Infinite diversity in infinite combinations is the bedrock of Vulcan philosophy.”
“But do you know ?”
A beat of silence. Una suddenly gets the sense that she’s way in over her head, but maybe that’s just an effect of being back on the Enterprise after so many months in prison. And reuniting with Neera. And Spock’s question about La’An.
“Do you like to read?” She doesn’t wait for him to answer, just stands and opens her desk drawer. “When my family moved to the non-Illyrian village, my father took me to the library. He said the fastest way to learn about a culture aside from living it was to consume their media, and so I did.” She finds the microtape she was searching for and straightens. “There’s a lot more variance in human cultures than you’d expect from looking at the standard sample size. These books are a good starting point if you’re looking for words to make sense of your—well, your feelings.”
Spock’s face does an absolutely spectacular job of combining discomfort and relief as she says that last word, but he accepts the microtape without hesitation. “Thank you, Commander. I appreciate your candor.”
“You’re welcome, Mr. Spock.” She smiles warmly, not really caring if it’s out of character for their relationship. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m really looking forward to reacquainting myself with my bed.”
Spock heads for the door, but stops just before it opens. “It is good to have you back, Commander. You were missed.”
Una smiles as she watches him go. It’s good to be home.