Chapter Text
Stardate 2262.314
The Enterprise was a little over half-way through her five-year mission into deep space. Interpersonal relationships with the crew were both stable and yet dynamically changing by the day.
One set of relationships that certainly weren't changing, were those of Sala, Jim Kirk, Spock, and Leonard McCoy.
Spock and Sala were in-tune enough with each other that to the outside eye it seemed that they could have full conversations without exchanging a single word.
While they still had the occasional disagreement, McCoy got on better with Sala than he did with Spock, and had over the years been able to relax a little more with her than before, but not quite as much as he seemed to be able to around Jim.
And, with Jim, while they strived to maintain a professional front, the two had been nurturing their relationship behind closed doors as well. It's not so much that they wanted to keep things secret, but rather Sala, being raised in Vulcan culture, wanted to keep things more private; something Jim usually upheld for her. To err was human, however, so there were times where one bled into the other before Sala would gently remind Jim if they were on duty and not alone.
And while details were not shared, Spock and McCoy were eventually confirmed in to the fact that the pair were seeing each other; both had their suspicions for a time.
At present, Sala was finding it difficult for herself to focus on her duties. An example of which was trying to compile information on two alien species that were seeking to broker a treaty and wanted the Federation to serve as a neutral party. While she was the Cultural Officer, the duty of execution still ultimately fell onto the shoulders of the Captain. So, she was making the efforts to make sure Jim would be set up for success as much as she could manage.
The slightest sigh slipped past Sala through her nose, her eyes closing and hand coming up to ghost over her brow as she tried to will herself to focus. Something that was occurring with greater persistence as the days went by.
"Sala, are you feeling unwell?" Spock asked.
Sala's eyes opened to look at her fellow Vulcan crewmate.
"I do not feel unwell. My focus simply seems to be escaping me," Sala admitted.
"I have noted the slight dip in your productivity. The fact that it has been for several days and only worsening is what concerns me. Perhaps you should pay a visit to Med Bay to make sure."
Sala's posture relaxed ever so slightly, relenting to Spock's conclusion.
"I will alert the Captain that you will be leaving from your shift early to go to Medical," Spock said, his hands clasping behind his back.
"Very well," Sala said before making towards the Turbolift to go to the deck that housed the Medical Bay.
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"Well, you may just be showing signs of overworking yourself," McCoy said, looking over test results on his PADD, "The only thing out of normal range is that your reproductive hormones are high but, you're not pregnant. You'll probably start to feel better if you get a bit more rest."
Sala was quiet for a moment, trying to think of an explanation for her "off" state, as she didn't believe she was doing any more work than usual. The mention that her reproductive hormone levels were high as well, brought Sala to one conclusion.
Pon Farr.
Being a hybrid, it wasn't ever certain that she would even experience the phenomena but it seemed that, while at irregular intervals compared to a full-blooded Vulcan, she could indeed experience Pon Farr.
"I request a few days sick leave," Sala said in a rather calm voice.
McCoy quirked a brow at Sala, "I don't think we need to take it that far. I can give you a sedative to take to help with sleep."
"I must insist, Leonard," Sala pressed.
McCoy drew and held a breath, thinking for a moment. Sala was known as a diligent officer, so the fact that she was pressing for leave wasn't from a place of trying to shirk her duties.
McCoy let out a heavy sigh, "Alright. I'll let Jim know. But you better take that time to rest, you hear me?"
"Thank you, Leonard," Sala said with a slight bow of her head as she stood up from the bio bed before making to leave the Med Bay for her quarters.
While male Vulcans could engage in ritualistic combat as one of the means to end the Pon Farr, female Vulcans did not have that option. This left Sala with either taking a mate or intensive meditation. Sala was fully aware of Jim's prior reputation as a womanizer, and while she was actively dating him, she did not want him to have to shoulder the responsibility of helping her through her Pon Farr. That meant that she was going to have to try and meditate through her Pon Farr on her own.
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Sala was in her quarters, sat on the floor trying to meditate.
Her hunch had been correct.
The longer Sala was in her room, the more worked up her body got. A fine sweat had broke out across her skin, and her uniform had felt so constricting that she'd changed into a pair of lounge pants and a tank top.
A brief chime rang out, alerting her to someone standing outside the door to her quarters. She ignored it to try and continue her meditating, but it chimed out three more times, meaning whomever was at the door was not leaving.
Letting out a sigh through her nose, Sala rose to approach her door and pressed the intercom.
"I am currently indisposed," Sala said, her voice level despite her growing agitation.
"It's me, Sala," Jim's voice carried over the intercom, "Bones told me that you requested sick leave. I came to check on you."
"That is appreciated but unnecessary."
"Sala, I'm being polite of your privacy but I will use my Captain override code if I have to."
Sala closed her eyes for a moment, trying to keep her agitation in check. She relented and pressed for the door to her quarters to unlock, allowing it to be opened, before moving to return to where she'd been meditating at the foot of her bed.
"Alright, Sala. What's going on? It's not like you to request sick leave. Hell, I'd probably have to order you to if you were actually sick," Jim said as he entered the room.
"It is not of your concern," Sala said in a flat voice, resuming her posture to meditate.
"As your Captain and as your boyfriend, I say otherwise," Jim said as he squat down in front of Sala, noticing the fine sheen of sweat before putting a hand on her forehead.
"Please remove your hand, Jim," Sala said, trying to keep herself composed as his touch felt near electric on her skin.
"You're burning up. Bones didn't mention what you're sick with," Jim said as he removed his hand.
"He would not have. Such would be a breach of privacy."
"Well, then you can tell me."
"It is not of your concern."
"Sala, I will order you to if I have to."
"I will not," Sala snapped.
Jim gave Sala a stunned look, "Okay, something is definitely happening. You're acting more human than usual."
"I am not," Sala tried to rebuff, her voice steadier than before but still wavering slightly.
"Sweetheart, you just snapped at me. I'd say that's a pretty human response," Jim paused, drawing a deep breath as he ran a hand over his mouth, "Sala, just let me try and help you. Not as your Captain but as your boyfriend."
Sala's eyes flicked across Jim's face, seeing the sincerity in his expression. Her gaze flit away for a moment before meeting his eyes again.
"It is Pon Farr. I must focus on meditating to break it."
"'Pon Farr'? What's Pon Farr, Sala?" Jim asked.
"A private Vulcan matter. As I said, it does not concern you," Sala reiterated.
Jim drew a deep breath, looking away for a moment as he briefly bit his lower lip, "Fine. But don't think this is me letting this go."
With that, Jim stood up and left Sala alone in her quarters.