Title: I'LL CRY INSTEAD
Author: JaimeBlue ( russia_girl@yahoo.com )
Author's Website: http://jaimeblue.tripod.com
Series: Star Trek: TOS & Movies
Pairing: Demora/Uhura
Rating: PG
Summary: A little comfort at an unfortunate reunion.
Archive: Yes to all
Disclaimer: They don't now nor have they ever belonged to me.
Note: written for the Femme Fuh-Q Fest - http://www.oocities.org/femme_fuhq_fest/
by JamieBlue
She stood next to the man who'd guided her life, a life he'd helped to create, and desperately tried not to
show the grief she felt. She had to be strong. One glance at the face of her father told Demora Sulu that
no matter what emotions threatened to overwhelm him, he wouldn't shed a tear. Her eyes moved to the
man standing at her father's side, a man who'd always been able to provoke a smile in young Demora,
and a man who didn't have the same reservations her father had, as was obvious in the way he took
comfort from the heavyset man at his side. She wanted to move over to Uncle Pasha and Mr. Scott, to
add her comfort to theirs and allow them to comfort her in return, yet she could not. She had to be
strong, if only for her father.
A gentle hand on her shoulder broke her attention away from the men at her side. She turned to meet
the kindest pair of eyes she'd ever known and attempted a smile for the woman who, along with her
father and Uncle Pasha, had been one of her life's greatest inspirations.
"How are you holding up, child?"
"I'm all right, but if Uncle Pasha sobs one more time, I just might embarrass Dad by joining in,"
Demora responded.
The hand slid off her shoulder and a comforting arm wrapped around her waist. "Now don't go
repressing your feelings like that stubborn father of yours. You go ahead and cry if you have to. If there
were any day for it, then this is that day."
Demora noticed the unshed tears in the older woman's eyes and slipped an arm over her shoulders. She
rested her head against a dark cheek, feeling the love and comfort flowing from the woman, breaking
down her barriers and allowing her own tears to finally reveal themselves. "Oh, Nyota, I'm so glad
you're here."
"There's nowhere else I'd be, child. I only wish our reunion could come under better circumstances."
From the corner of her eye, she spotted a figure walking up to the podium at the front of the room. She
slipped away from Nyota and chanced a glance at her father before turning her attention to the usually
graceful Vulcan who defeatedly pulled himself onto the platform, accompanied by an elderly
gentleman whose eyes looked devoid of life.
She only absorbed the first few words spoken before blindly reaching out for her father's hand and
squeezing it as she had in her younger days, oblivious to the rest of the speech in the turmoil of her
emotions.
"We come here to honour a man, a Starfleet Captain, and a dear friend -- Jim Kirk."
* * *
Demora allowed herself to be led into the dark quarters and blinked as the lights turned on
automatically. She looked around, noticing all the little personal touches that belied the room's
occupant.
"Would you like some tea, Sugar?"
She turned to answer Nyota's concerned gaze with a small smile. "Maybe some of that chamomile you
like, to help me sleep." She watched the shorter woman step into the tiny kitchen and followed her,
perching against the door frame. "Thank you for taking me in, but I could have stayed with Dad. He
still needs me."
"What that man needs is a good cry, and he'll never get that while he's staying strong for you, Dema.
Don't worry, Pavel's taking good care of him tonight."
Demora nodded and remained quiet as she watched Nyota prepare their tea, and soon the room was
filled with the soothing scent of chamomile - something she'd always associated with Nyota. Taking a
proffered mug, she retreated to the long sofa that was the centerpiece of the main room. Moments later,
the cushions dipped as Nyota sat next to her.
The comfortable silence between the two women was only broken by the tiny sips they took from their
warm mugs. However, Demora began to find it impossible to hold back her grief and started crying
softly. She felt soft fingers brush against her cheek as her long hair was pulled behind her ear. Those
same fingers moved to take the mug from her hands before they pulled her up against a soft body. She
instinctively reached out to wrap her arms around Nyota's waist, her tear-stained face pressed against
the older woman's bosom as her sobs were finally released.
When they abated, sleep somehow found her in Nyota's arms.
* * *
Demora slipped into consciousness, still wrapped in a familiar warmth. She snuggled further into
Nyota's arms, reveling in the comfort she found there.
For as long as she could remember, this was where she'd wanted to be. At first, she'd thought it a simple
attachment to the woman who'd become a surrogate mother to a young Demora. However, as she grew
older, she'd been shocked and horrified to realize the extent of her affection for Nyota. She'd
continually told herself how wrong it was to have such feelings for someone who thought of her as a
daughter, yet the feelings persisted.
She winced as a pang of guilt hit her. One of the men she'd most admired in her life was dead, and
there she was, thinking only of herself and these *feelings*. She was ashamed, and yet she couldn't help
cherishing and carving into her memory the feeling of Nyota's arms and body, completely relaxed in a
hopefully dreamless slumber.
Shaking her head, she tried to let sleep reclaim her. Perhaps one day, she would no longer be tortured
by these feelings she had to repress, if only for her own sanity.
Until then, she'd enjoy every touch, every embrace, and every ounce of affection that she could get.
The End