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Unbeta'd. Read at your own risk.

Distance

When Nyota kisses Jim, there is no rush of empathic connection, that feeling of being bound to another person so tightly they are one with each other and the universe.

But when their lips are pressed together, like now, as they recline on his couch, her body over his so tight there is no distance between them, she still goes warm, and hot, and can feel it in her toes.

He pulls away and she opens her eyes. His face is so close to hers, his expression so serious. Is he's thinking of something that happened on the job? Or is he disappointed because he really wishes they were going further...faster?

She does not know; she can only piece together his feelings from all the tiny verbal and non-verbal message he sends. One of his hands is tight on her hip, the other rubs her back. She is sure he's going to press her for more, physically and emotionally, than she is ready to give. She swallows, braces herself, prepares her excuses.

But then he asks, "Are you happy?"

And it hits her; he is just as blind as she is. He is not endowed with superhuman powers of telepathy. Like her he can only navigate these emotional seas on his wits and faith. Perhaps it is just as frightening to him as it is to her.

...Because it is frightening.

"Yes," she reassures him. Because she is. Even if this if unfamiliar territory, even if just a few months ago she could never see herself here, and just a few moments ago was utterly prepared for him to pressure her for more.

She kisses him and feels his body sink a little deeper into the couch. The hand on her hip tightens, the hand on her back stops moving and pulls her closer.

And once again the distance between them is non-existent, and infinite. She feels that jolt at the base of her spine that heats her body. But their minds are still unconnected.

Which is perhaps, how even in this moment of heat, her mind can drift.

It suddenly strikes her that if she wanted, she could imagine Jim in a Roman gladiator uniform and he'd be none-the-wiser. Breaking the kiss she pulls up and laughs at the vision that conjures up.

"What?" he asks.

Shaking her head with a smile, she says, "Nothing."

His brow furrows. He doesn't look convinced but he says, "Well, if you're happy." He smiles up at her softly.

Tracing a finger down his chest which would be behind a copper breast plate if he was in a Roman gladiator uniform, she smiles. Pressing another kiss to his lips, crossing that distance that is a relief and freedom and a frightening unknowable void, she says, "I am."

A/N:

I've been writing a lot for "Tapestry" and I needed something a little different. If you read and enjoyed, please leave a review!