DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters are the
property of Paramount Studios, Inc and Viacom. The
story contents are the creation and property of Djinn and are copyright (c)
2015 by Djinn. This story is Rated R.
A Friend in Need
by
Djinn
Chapel
was working at one of the comm stations, sitting in
the big room rather than her cushy office because she liked to feel the energy of
the main ops space. If anyone
seemed to mind, she would stay in her office, but she was an ops lifer and that
counted for something around here.
She could sit anywhere she liked without people freezing up in an
annoying "the boss is around" way.
Montenegro
and Cassat walked in, fresh off a mission that should
have been fairly standard. She
stood and gestured for them to meet her in her office for a quick debrief.
As
they stood, she leaned against her desk and asked "Anything I should
know?"
Montenegro
was the more senior of the two, and she took the lead. "Pretty much textbook, which is
what we all expected."
Chapel
nodded. How often did textbook stay
that way? She could tell Montenegro
was glad it had.
Cassat had a strange look on his face, so Chapel said
softly, "Something you want to add, Rick?"
"Diplomatic
was strange."
"Diplomatic
is always strange. They are a world
unto themselves." Chapel
pushed herself off the desk.
"Who was leading the delegation?"
"Ambassador
Sarek," Montenegro said.
"He was somewhat erratic toward the end of our stay."
"Erratic? Erratic how?" Chapel wanted to close her eyes and take
a deep breath: she'd been expecting this.
Amanda had told her Sarek should be close to his next Pon Farr. She'd
told Chapel this on her deathbed, had wanted to make sure Chapel would
"take care of him."
Which
she would—she'd promised a friend, after all. But it was entirely possible Sarek had
his own arrangements made for the Pon Farr.
Cassat met her eyes. "He seemed...out of sorts, for a
Vulcan anyway. He actually had a
little bit of a hissy fit when the catering he'd ordered didn't have enough
entrees the Nairdlikins would enjoy.
"A
hissy fit?" Chapel knew her
expression was amused.
"Well,
for a Vulcan, I mean. For a human,
maybe not."
"Look,
even Vulcans have bad days. Go home
and get some sleep. I'll see you back
here in a couple of days."
They
nodded and hurried out. One of the
best things about being done with an ops mission were the days off you got once
you were home. Sleeping with no
threat of disease or natural disasters or war interrupting your rest: it was
damn near heaven, unless you had bad dreams about what you'd just been
through. Nightmares
kind of came with the territory.
She
remembered those days, even if she didn't live them anymore. Being in charge meant being on Earth,
which she didn't mind. She'd had
enough travelling—seen enough carnage and death—to last a lifetime.
She
went back to the post she'd taken outside, continuing to read her comms until it was time to go. She went home, took a quick shower and changed
into civilian clothes, then commed the Vulcan embassy. "This is Captain Chapel. Is Ambassador Sarek available?"
She
was transferred to Semek, Sarek's personal assistant
who had always been very accommodating to her when she'd visited Amanda and
Sarek, who said, "The ambassador is in. Did you wish to be put through?"
"I'd
rather come see him. If he's free
in, say, half an hour?"
Semek glanced away, no doubt at a scheduling screen. "He has a meeting in ten
minutes. Then he is free for the
next hour. After that he will be away
on personal time for several days."
Several:
remarkably unspecific for a Vulcan—maybe Sarek had made his own
arrangements and this would all be moot.
"Fine. I'll be by
then. Thank you."
He
nodded and signed off.
Chapel
sat down and caught up with personal correspondence until it was time to leave,
then walked quickly to the embassy.
The guards waved her in and Semek saw her and
pointed upstairs with a look she couldn't read—although that was sort of
the point with most Vulcans.
She
was being sent to Sarek's private chambers, the ones he used to share with
Amanda. Which was probably more
fitting for the conversation Chapel was going to have with him than in an
office with Semek sitting right outside. She knocked gently on the door, heard
heavy footsteps coming toward her—was he stomping? He usually walked so softly.
He
opened the door, his face composed, but in his eyes she saw an energy that
normally didn't show through his perfect Vulcan demeanor. "Christine."
"Sarek." She smiled slowly. "May I come in?"
"Of
course." He moved away, then shut the door, standing facing away for a long moment
before he turned to her. "What
can I do for you?"
"I
think the question might be more what I can do for you."
His
face changed—was that anger she was seeing? "I am not sure what you mean."
She
took a slow, steadying breath and took a step toward him. "Amanda told me your time was
close."
"My
wife would not normally speak of such things."
"You're
right. But she was dying. And she wanted to make sure that you
were...taken care of."
His
eyebrow rose, so much like Spock's. "I see. And you are offering to assist me?" There was something in his voice she
couldn't identify, but she didn't like it.
"Look,
if you've made other arrangements, we can pretend this conversation never happened. But I made her a promise, so I had to
come see you after I heard you were a bit...erratic on your last mission."
Again the anger in his face. "So you will take care of me in my
time of need?" He moved
closer, his expression turning hard.
"Just as you have no doubt taken care of my son?"
"Whoa." She actually had to put a hand out to
stop his progress, his skin was hot, even just touching the robe she could feel
how he was burning. "I
never. Not with Spock." Not that she hadn't
offered, but he'd never wanted her.
"Are
you lying to me, Christine?"
"You
know what, Sarek. Screw
you." She turned and this time
he moved lightly because his hand was on her before she heard him take a step.
"Are
you my son's lover?"
"No. I'm not." She tried to shake off his hand, failed
and felt the first inkling of fear.
He
seemed to read her fear, for his expression changed, and he dropped his
hand. "I beg pardon. I am not myself."
"I
know." She took a deep breath
and was dismayed to hear how shaky it was.
"Sarek, just tell me you've made alternate arrangements, and I'll
get the hell out of here."
He
closed his eyes. "I have
not."
"What
were you going to do?" She saw
his expression change, from anger to something sadder, something lost. How much was he missing Amanda? He'd been off world so much—had he
been burying himself in work?
Chapel felt guilty; she should have checked on him earlier. Amanda had expected her to be there for
him and she very nearly hadn't. "Were you going to let yourself die?"
"I
am unsure." He turned away and
walked to the window, clutching the sides of his robe as if that would somehow
steady him. "I miss my wife,
Christine."
"I
know you do. I do, too." She wasn't sure what to do, whether to
turn and leave him to his fate, as he seemed to prefer—but she knew was a
plan Amanda would not approve of—or to walk over to him and do what she
did best: deal with an emergency.
Finally she settled for saying, "If Amanda had wanted you to die,
she wouldn't have told me to come."
"Logical." There was a note of resignation in his
voice, surrender, even. "Do
you wish this? Do you have feelings
for me?"
"You're
my friend. And so was Amanda. I wouldn't let myself have feelings for
you when she was alive. And now..." She
sighed and he turned, his eyes burning into her.
"You
still love my son."
"Don't
say it like that. Like in all these
years I'm not smart enough to realize that I'll never have him—or that
his heart wasn't given to Jim Kirk.
I used to be in love with your son.
But I never knew him and I still don't, not to the degree one would
expect from a friend, much less a lover." She folded her arms across her chest,
protecting herself, she knew, but was willing to give that to him, knowing he'd
read her body language perfectly.
"Everyone thinks I can't give up, but I can. I have."
"Would
you be here if my wife had not asked you to be?" He moved closer to her.
"I'm
not sure I would have realized what you were going through if she hadn't told
me it was close."
"But
if you had, and she had not asked, would you have come?"
He
seemed to want honesty from her, so she closed her eyes and murmured, "I
don't know."
"I
release you from the promise my wife forced upon you. It was not fair of her...not
right." He seemed to be
clutching his robe even tighter.
"You may go."
"I
don't want you to die."
He
nodded in a way that could mean anything.
She
reached down and pried his fingers from his robe, holding his hands in hers,
feeling the heat pouring off him before she let go of him. "Let me help you."
He
took a shuddering breath. "I
will look for her, Christine. If we
are together, I will look for her in you—in your mind when we meld. She was my wife, my mate,
my—"
"Your
life. I know. But the Federation needs you,
Sarek. So if you call out for her, if
you look for her in me, then so be it." She moved closer, ran her hand down his
cheek, then dropped down to his chest, then lower.
He
moaned—a sound she hadn't expected him to make.
"How
close are you?"
"Imminent."
"Let
me arrange some leave. I have
lots. How many days will I
need?"
"Two—three
to be safe." He spoke softly,
no longer arguing, apparently.
Resigned to this—to her.
He went back to the window and resumed his study of whatever was so
interesting on the other side, while she called work and took four days off, adding
an extra day in case she needed time to recover. Fortunately, while emergencies might
never take time off, it was a slow week for her as far as meetings and special
briefings were concerned.
She
studied Sarek, then eased to the door. "I'm going to my apartment. It's not far. I need a few things."
His
head shot up, and he looked at her with an intensity that almost unnerved her,
then he said softly, "Perhaps we both should go? It would give us more privacy then
here."
She
nodded, knowing that Vulcans usually retreated to places marked by ritual for
the Pon Farr, also knowing that the Vulcan embassy
would not be such a place. Most
Vulcans as far gone as Sarek seemed would have already
been on their way to Vulcan.
What
had he been planning to do? Hike
out into the Mojave and let the elements and his own biological imperative do
the rest?
He
followed her, but once they were out of the embassy, he seemed to be trying to
get into the lead, with her half a step behind her. She'd seen Amanda follow him in just
this way, but it ticked her off, so she stopped. Abruptly. He had taken quite a few steps before he
seemed to realize she was not with him, that she was standing,
arms across her chest, foot tapping.
It
was not really a statement of principle: he had been walking the wrong way,
toward her old apartment.
Apparently Amanda had never told him Chapel had moved.
He
strode back to her. "Why have
you stopped?"
"A. I don't feel like heeling today. B.
My apartment is this way."
He
didn't look chagrinned until she hit point B, which did not surprise her. Vulcans might be equal opportunity when
it came to gender roles in the professional arena, but they weren't exactly
liberated when domestic arrangements came into play.
He
took a deep breath. "It is not
wise to goad me at this time."
"Not
what I'm doing. Forget about who's
in front. Move on to part B of my
statement. Do you even know where I
live?"
"You
have always lived close to headquarters—presumably because of the
unpredictable hours of ops." He gestured in the direction he had been
going. "It is just this
way."
She
made the buzzer sound for "Wrong answer."
He
did not look amused.
"Come
on." She turned and led him
across the street and down the hill to the high-rise she'd moved to a few
months ago when she'd made captain.
It had an amazing view of the water. "Home sweet home," she
murmured as she led him into the building.
He
seemed to stay very far away from her in the elevator, followed her almost
obediently down the hallway. Once
they got inside, he moved toward her, but she held her hand up.
"Let
me change. I know it's stupid if
you're just going to be taking my clothes off me, but I don't want to do this
in a uniform. And I want to get a
few things—medical things—to have on hand." Thank God she'd always kept a
regenerator and scanner—not to mention a few handy meds—perpetually
signed out in her name.
Sarek
nodded and went to her window. He
did not comment on the view, and she disappeared into her bedroom, hurriedly
making the bed since she thought he would prefer that to the unmade mess she'd left as she'd run in to work. Then she got out of her uniform and into
a pair of sweats and a t-shirt—no way she was putting on one of the many
slinky nightgowns she'd bought over the years. For men friends who never amounted to
much, and truth to tell, for herself, because she liked how pretty things made
her feel.
But
she didn't want to feel that way now.
This wasn't about romance or even lust. At least not lust specifically for
her. It was lust, though, in its
most basic form.
And
she was afraid. She held up her
hand, saw it was shaking, and shot a little anti-anxiety med into her arm. Then, not sure how much Sarek was going
to warm her up once they started this, she took advantage of some more intimate
preparations to get her ready for whatever came.
She
was going to have sex with Sarek. Because his dead wife had asked her to.
She'd
never felt less sexy. Or more
afraid before the act, and she'd had a point in her life when she'd been into
men who liked it a little rough.
But they'd always been capable of control.
She
was potentially in for something that fell more in the category of mindless and
violent. She walked out to where
Sarek was, silently cursing all the privacy-obsessed Vulcans who had kept any
useful information about the Pon Farr from the
medical archives. She deserved to
know what she was in for, and Amanda had not told her—Chapel suspected it
was because Amanda had not wanted to scare her off.
"I'm
ready," she murmured, causing Sarek to turn.
His
eyes as he took her in were impossible to read. She imagined him comparing her to
Amanda. The other woman had been so
petite and elegant. Chapel was
neither of those things. Would he
care?
His
expression changed, and she thought she was witnessing him giving up
control. He reached for her and she
went to him, wondering if he would kiss her, if it even mattered.
This
was her friend. Nothing more. She was doing this for a friend.
He
did kiss her, pulling her in close, hiking her up against the wall and grinding
into her. "As you said, your clothing
is unnecessary as I am going to remove it." He let her down, took her hand, pulled
her into the bedroom, and quickly did just that. Then he stared at her until she felt too
exposed and tried to cover her breasts with her arms.
"Do
not do that," he said, his voice husky and low.
She
dropped her arms, unsure if she should undress him or just wait. Finally, she moved closer, carefully,
watching him to make sure what she was doing wasn't wrong.
Really,
couldn't Amanda have briefed her just a little on this?
She
began to unfasten the robe he wore, then took off the
undergarments, watching his eyes for clues. They were fastened on her, his breathing
louder, his mouth parted.
She
decided to try to be some sort of partner in this, not just a blow-up doll, so
she moved closer, rubbing against him gently before leaning in and kissing
him. He opened his mouth to hers
and pushed her backwards, until she hit the bed and fell back. He followed her down.
And
then his fingers were on the meld points, and he was in her mind, and she felt
him pushing her away, but not in a cruel way. She thought he was trying to spare her
from whatever he feared he'd do to her—as he sought his true mate and
found Amanda truly gone. Maybe for
the first time accepting it in his heart even if logic had told him his wife
was gone long before.
"Thank
you," he said, to her mind or with his voice, she wasn't sure, but then
all she felt was sensation, his, hers, him thrusting, calling out that she was
his, his, his, but never by name, and she thought he didn't mean her at all.
But
it felt so good, the way he was moving, the way he touched her, the way he made
her come over and over, that her fear melted away as she gave herself over to
whatever he wanted to do.
She
lost track of time, had no idea how long they had been in bed when he, lost
deeply to the rut, began to look for Amanda. It hurt less than she thought it would,
this sense of not being the right person even as she lay underneath him. She'd feared it would be worse, a sense
of lacking, of failure, and if it had been Spock looking for his lost Jim, she
no doubt would have felt this far less clinically. But this wasn't Spock: this was her
friend.
A friend who finally stopped calling for his dead wife and
fell asleep in her arms. She lay still
and took a shuddering breath, reaching for the scanner and regenerator, moving
carefully so she wouldn't wake him.
He'd been rough but never mean, and she pushed aside that she was
working on her own body and just let herself become the doctor she used to be.
On
balance, it could have been so much worse.
She
put the scanner and regenerator back on the nightstand, grabbed a hypo full of
restoratives and the one with the anti-anxiety meds from before, and dosed
herself, then cuddled in next to him and fell asleep.
She
woke as he eased out of the bed—from the set of his shoulders,
he was trying to do it without waking her.
She touched his arm, saw him jerk then look back at her.
She
smiled as gently as she could "There
are clean towels in the bathroom.
If you want to shower."
"Most
kind."
The
formality seemed silly, but she thought he needed it. "Least I could do."
His
expression changed, became concerned.
"I did not hurt you, did I?"
She
pointed to the nightstand.
"Nothing I couldn't fix."
She knew joking was wrong when his look grew more concerned. "Sarek, no. You didn't hurt me. Two days of sex did."
"Ah. Yes. A wise way to look at it." He seemed unsure what more to say.
"Go
shower. Do you want breakfast or
would you rather get the hell out of here as fast as you possibly can?"
By
his expression, she could tell it was the latter. She rubbed his arm gently, knowing he
could read what she was feeling, that she was all right with this, that she
expected nothing from him.
He
seemed to relax. "I am deeply
appreciative."
"I
know." She let go of him, and
lay back down in the bed, closing her eyes. "I'll see you around."
"Indeed." He seemed uncertain still, despite her
attempt to give him an easy out.
"That's
your cue to get in the shower, get dressed, make a hasty, if thankful, exit,
and not worry about me. And promise
me we'll still be friends after this, okay?"
"Open
your eyes."
She
did.
He
reached over and touched her cheek.
His lips almost turned up and his eyes were incredibly gentle. "We will still be
friends." Then he got up and
walked into the bathroom.
She
heard the shower go on and reached over to the night table, scanning herself
and seeing she could use another shot of restoratives. She pressed the hypo against her neck, lay
back, closed her eyes, and was lost to a deep, dreamless sleep in no time.
As
she expected, he was gone when she woke up. Other than his scent lingering in her
bed and the damp towel and washcloth thrown over the shower curtain rod, there
was no sign he had ever been there.
##
She
saw Sarek a few times in the hallways of Command, and each time he was the soul
of courtesy, nodding graciously and saying hello but clearly with
somewhere—anywhere—else to be if you knew what to look for. And she'd made a career out of reading
Vulcans who wanted to get away from her.
It
was what Amanda had wanted. She
kept telling herself that. And she
knew that the weirdness between Sarek and her would go away. Someday. Please God.
"Captain?"
She
looked up from her terminal, saw it was Montenegro at the door, and waved her
in. "What's up?"
"I
just wanted to make sure you were okay.
You took leave and it was sudden."
Chapel
smiled, loving that this lieutenant she'd taken under her wing when she'd first
started in ops as an eager but very green ensign, was now trying to take care
of her. "I'm fine, Emilia. It was a family emergency. But...not anyone close." Did that even make sense? Why would she take leave for someone she
wasn't close to.
"I was his only family and there were arrangements to be
made." She decided to stop
talking. For someone adept at going
with the flow during an emergency, she wasn't doing as well as she usually
did. But she hadn't really thought anyone
would ask her about her time off.
Crap. Did she really not have anyone who would
notice she was suddenly gone for several days? Jan was out on the Excelsior and they only spoke a few times a month lately. Ny was first officer on the Quebecr and
stressed as hell every time Chapel commed her. Chapel had mostly lost touch with
Len—they usually only commed each other when
one or the other had been drinking and got nostalgic, or if he was in town
planning a get-together of the old guard.
"If
you need anything...?"
"We
should do a happy hour. How long
has it been since we took over a bar?"
Montenegro
laughed. "Two weeks."
"We're
definitely underachieving. We have
a reputation to maintain. Work
hard, party hard—"
"And
get up to do it all again the next morning." Montenegro laughed as she
finished the Ops creed. One of them, anyway.
There was generally one to fit any situation that involved booze. "You want me to plan it?"
"Would
you?"
"Any
spot in particular?"
Chapel
laughed. "Smitty
letting us back in yet?"
"Nope. Old Man Panellini
didn't kick Rick and me out the last time we dropped in."
"Good
sign. We'll start there and if
that's a no go, we'll find a new place to close down."
"Aye
aye, ma'am." She got up and walked to the door, then she turned.
"I did mean that, though.
If you need anything. I feel like I owe you. You kept me sane and it wasn't your job
to do that—not when you have all the other stuff to do."
"I
see potential: I nurse potential."
She leaned back. "Used
to be a nurse. Did you know
that?"
Montenegro
shook her head. "I knew you
were a doctor."
"And
a scientist. I used to wait tables
when I was in college before I got my first internship." She smiled. "Quite the diverse
resume." She shook
herself. Why this walk down memory
lane? "Thank you for your concern. Plan the happy hour—that's all the
help I need right now."
"Yes,
ma'am."
Chapel
watched her walk out. Young and bright and pretty—her whole life ahead of her. She'd been like that once. She still felt like that girl until her
body reminded her she was a long way from her twenties.
With
a sigh, she put thoughts of her youth behind her and turned back to the
terminal. The comms
stacking up couldn't give a shit how young and pretty she used to be.
##
Chapel
walked down the snow-covered path outside the residence the Federation had been
given on Nethreven, enjoying the night air and the
chance to be alone after a full day of talks. She was here because the new leader of the
planet was a man she'd worked with five years earlier after massive quakes had leveled
three cities on the planet. Dallihar had asked for her specifically to be part of the
delegation opening trade talks. Nethreven was rich with dilithium and other key minerals.
"Christine?"
She turned, surprised to see Sarek out in the cold. "Not your natural
environment."
"May
I join you?"
She
nodded, and they fell into step.
"Talks are going well."
In fact, so well she was bored shitless. She really had no reason to be here
other than the Federation wanted to make Dallihar
happy.
"Dallihar seems quite taken with you."
She
snuck a peek, trying to assess the mood Sarek was in. Impossible to tell. "He is. He's asked me to marry him four times
this visit."
"I
take it he's asked you that before as well?"
She
laughed. "Every time he sees
me."
"You
do not desire to be the wife of the leader of a rich planet?" This time there was definitely humor in
Sarek's voice.
"Yes,
please, let me join his twenty other wives, fourteen husbands and too-many-to-count
concubines." She peeked again and
saw Sarek's lips quirk up ever so slightly. "So, you're not in a robe, you've
actually got snow boots on and a cap.
Wow."
"Amanda
enjoyed vacationing in Colorado.
She spent a great deal of time finding me cold-weather gear. Hats, particularly. They were..."
"Silly?"
"I
think ridiculous is more apt."
She
laughed, and realized that he sounded different when he talked about
Amanda. Like it wasn't such a raw
wound. Like he could mention her
name with love and affection and even this sweet humor instead of just sorrow. "Did she ski?"
"Yes,
when she was younger."
"Did
you?"
He
shot her a bland look that she read perfectly.
"Yeah,
me neither. I always envied the
skiers though. They looked so
free." She smiled, remembering
watching a friend glide down the slopes.
Chapel had water-skied but that was different: you needed something to
pull you. Snow skiers seemed to
almost fly.
"I
as well."
They
came to a fork in the path, one led back to the
residence and another went around it, exiting the woods at the back entrance to
the building. Chapel took the
longer trail and Sarek stayed with her.
"Did
you ever wear the ridiculous hats?"
"In
public, no. But when we were alone,
sometimes. It pleased her."
"I
bet it did." She smiled, imagining
him in a goofy ski cap. "How
ridiculous?"
"Generally
there were ears of some kind. Or a
ball on top."
"Pom-poms
are a classic."
"Not
on Vulcan."
She
grinned and met his eyes—his were gentle, his face relaxed. "We haven't really talked."
"No,
we have not. I was..."
"Weirded out?"
Again
his lips quirked up ever so slightly.
"A bit uncomfortable."
"Well,
you seem fine now."
"I
am. As are you. You also seemed on edge around me."
"Well,
it was a little strange. I never
expected..."
She laughed, unsure where she was going with this. "Finding a new normal is good,
though."
"Indeed."
They
walked in silence for a bit, then he said very softly,
"Dallihar has excellent taste."
She
laughed. "That he likes
me? Or are you talking about one of
his current spouses?"
"I
was referring to you."
"Ambassador,
are you flirting?"
"I
was paying you a compliment. They
are not the same thing." He
didn't sound very stern when he said it.
In fact, he sounded like he dared her to tell him he was wrong.
"Could've
fooled me."
"It
has been my experience that it is difficult to fool you, Christine."
"Maybe
so." Probably
so, actually. After Roger
the Android had fooled her to very nearly disastrous consequences, she'd become
a lot more suspicious, a lot less soft.
Ops had finished the job.
They
arrived at another fork in the trail, and Sarek slowed. "I am cold. I believe I will go in."
"I'm
going to stay out for a while."
She smiled at him, letting him know they were fine, that this was fine,
him staying for a while and now going back in.
His
expression was easy and open, serene in a different way than his norm. He reached out and touched her arm, his
gloved hand on her jacket. "Goodnight,
then."
She
put her hand over his and squeezed gently, then let him go. "Goodnight, Sarek."
##
Chapel
boarded the shuttle that would take them from Nethreven
to Earth, eying the general cabin with dismay: it was full and she'd hoped to
be able to snag one of the loungers and sleep her way through the journey.
"I
have a private compartment," Sarek said very softly; he was standing quite
close behind her. "If you
would care to join me?"
She
glanced back at him.
"I
can see the disappointment in your expression, Christine, at how full this room
is." He moved aside to let some of the aides find seats. "I would welcome your
company."
She
smiled and followed him through the main seating area to the private
compartments. "Fancy,"
she said, as she took in the cushy seats and the food and drinks stocked. The room wasn't big but they crammed a
lot of things in. Including a
bed. She tried to ignore that,
figured he would, too. "All
this for a ten-hour trip?"
He
huffed softly, a sound she'd always considered his laugh, a laugh that could
signify true amusement or its more bitter cousin. "The embassy makes my travel
arrangements. Amanda preferred private
compartments after a mission. She
enjoyed the luxury and I the privacy.
It was a meeting of needs."
"I'm
not judging." She nodded
toward the drinks. "That's for
us—well, you?"
"Have
whatever you like." He sat and
stretched his legs out, and she realized he was letting her see him really
relax.
"Do
you want something?"
"Water
is fine."
She
poured his water and handed it to him, then took her time picking the wine and
pouring herself a glass before sitting across from him. "These missions must be a constant
barrage for you, Sarek. Emotions,
pressing flesh, so...not Vulcan."
"It
is true. It is why I relish this
small privacy. Why I do not forego
the luxury."
"Well,
I'm happy to share it with you."
She lifted her glass.
"To a successful trade negotiation."
His
eyes were very light as lifted his water and said, "And to you not
becoming wife twenty-one."
She
laughed. "Hear hear." The
wine was excellent and she took a few seconds to just enjoy it. "Do you think those twenty wives
and fourteen husbands only get to sleep with Dallihar
or is it more of a free-for-all?"
She chuckled at his expression.
"The look on your face is priceless. I think he must keep them separate. Otherwise, they might end up preferring
each other to him."
He
nodded.
"You
agree?"
"I
had occasion to consider his domestic arrangement and wonder the same thing. I arrived at the same conclusion"
"No. You?"
"Like
you, I am often uninterested during the discussion. Unlike you, I do not wear that fact for
all to see."
"And
to think I'm known for my poker face." She stretched out, enjoying the way the
chair moved with her, always comfortable no matter how
she sat. "I actually am known
for that. Did I really look
bored?"
"To
me, yes. To the casual observer,
probably not."
"Good." She studied him. "You do know me, don't you?"
"We
have known each other for many years.
Not just you as a friend of Amanda and mine, but we have worked together
before."
"So
you and I—we're friends? It
didn't just work with Amanda there, me and the two of you as a couple?"
"I
believe we are friends as individuals.
Do you not agree?"
She
closed her eyes. "I do. But...sometimes I misread things."
"Are
you referring to my son and his inability to see that you would be an excellent
match for him?"
She
laughed. "Wow, have I got you
snookered. Actually, I think I'm
not an excellent match for him. I've
had time to consider that, and I'm not sure we'd really have much in common. God knows he's never wanted to get close
enough to find out. Even if it took
me way too long to figure out I basically had cooties as far as he was
concerned."
Another
huff.
"You
understand cooties?"
"Amanda
often used the term."
"I
miss her, Sarek."
"As
do I." He turned to the
viewport. "It has taken me
time to grow accustomed to being alone."
"I'm
sure it has. You were together so
long."
"I
do not like being alone, Christine."
She
smiled, but it was a bittersweet smile and he didn't notice it, still staring
out at the stars. Amanda had once
told her that she knew Sarek would remarry if she died, that he was not a man
who would do well alone.
He
turned and seemed to be studying her.
"You have been alone for many years."
"I
have friends, Sarek. Friends
with...options."
"Lovers,
you mean."
She
considered that. "No, I think
I said it right. They're just
friends. Roger was a lover."
"Is
it my son that you are waiting for?"
Sarek leaned forward.
"Kirk is gone now."
"Jim
has been gone for some time. And
Spock has not shown up at my door."
She shook her head slowly.
"The thing I had with Roger—the reason I threw everything
important away and went looking for him—it was more than just lust or love
or respect alone. It was all
three. I...liked him. I loved working with him. He challenged me and he thought I was
smart, too. I guess I want that
again. He and I...zinged. I don't know how else to say it. I felt alive when I was with him."
"And
my son does not make you feel that way?"
She
laughed and this time it was the same bitter huff he often made. "Sarek, I feel invisible when I'm
around Spock."
"I
regret that."
"Don't. Spock doesn't owe me anything. I mean I've had admirers that I didn't
want. How can I hold that against
him?"
"A
most logical attitude." He
seemed about to say something, then turned back to the viewport.
She
got up to refill her wine and grab some food. As she was loading up a plate, she said,
"You were about to say something."
"I
was."
"So
say it."
"It
was a question. I am not sure why I
ask it, though."
She
waited, then turned to him with a smile. "You haven't asked it."
"I
am aware of that. I am waiting for
you to sit down."
She
put the plate on the table between them, making the general motion people did
when they meant "have some," and leaned back in her chair. "I'm sitting."
"Did
I make you feel invisible during the Pon Farr?"
She
shook her head slowly.
"Explain."
"Well,
for one thing, there were some very nice moments for me during that. Just so you know—I'm not entirely
sure how much you remember of what happened."
"I
remember all of it."
"Okay,
then, so you know that you got me there.
Quite a few times." She
took a sip of wine, couldn't help but notice that he had a bit of a
self-satisfied look. It was a good
thing to be proud of, so she wasn't going to bitch at him for enjoying his
prowess. "But when you started to look for Amanda, if you hadn't warned
me, if I didn't know how much you loved her, and if I hadn't been there because
she asked me to, then yes, I probably
would have been devastated. But I
did know all that. So I wasn't
crushed. I wasn't there because I had
seduced you. I was there because I
loved her and I love you. And I'd
do anything for her—and for you."
He
looked so relieved that she reached across and took his hand. He put his own over it, much as she had
when they were out in the snow.
"So,
see, you didn't have to subject yourself to ten hours with me in here. You could have let me rot in
steerage."
He
shook his head, but it was a fond gesture.
"I wanted you here.
With me."
"You
did?"
He
nodded. "When we get home,
would you have dinner with me?"
"Are
you asking me out on a date?"
"A
Vulcan would not couch it in such terms." His eyebrow went up and she knew it was
to tease her.
"You
realize you're doing it all backwards.
Generally a man buys a gal dinner and then she has sex with
him." She laughed, a little
unsure how he would take the joke.
She
didn't need to worry. She heard the
small huff, saw his eyes crinkle slightly.
Amanda had obviously broken him in well to human humor.
"I
should perhaps work on my approach for the next woman?"
"I
think so." She let go of his
hand. "She's not coming around
anytime soon, is she? The next woman? Because,
yes, I would like to have dinner with you."
"In
that case, I think her presence would be superfluous."
"And
that right there is what separates Vulcans males from human men. A human would definitely think two women
better than one." Especially
if there was some hot girl-on-girl action they could horn in on.
"Then
it is fortunate for you that I am not human."
"I
will drink to that." She
yawned suddenly, the wine and having to stay awake during those damned meetings
catching up with her.
"I
am going to work on reports. If you
are tired, use the bed. I will not
disturb you."
"What
if I want you to?" She met his
eyes, smiled to make what she said less serious but did not look away.
"I
am gratified to hear that you might want that. But there is no rush."
It
could have felt like a rebuke, like she was promiscuous, going too fast. But it didn't. The tenderness in his voice, the gentle
way his eyes shone, the way he was leaning in: it
sounded like a promise instead.
"I
am tired, Sarek." And she felt
safe in here. She couldn't remember
the last time she'd felt so safe.
"Then
sleep." He helped himself to a piece of cheese from her plate, seemed to lose himself in
the tasting of it.
She
laughed softly. "Just the
privacy, my ass. You also love the
luxury."
"As
you say." That seemed to be his only rejoinder, other than to take another
piece of cheese.
She
grabbed a piece for herself, then slipped out of the chair and made for the
bed. She was out for the rest of
the trip. Sarek woke her just
before spacedock, allowing her time to get into the
head and make herself presentable—clearly Amanda had him very well
trained.
Chapel
wondered suddenly if Amanda had foreseen this when she'd asked her to take care
of Sarek. Had she also wanted Sarek
to take care of her? Chapel wouldn't
put it past her.
Sarek
was standing at the viewport, watching the docking. "Are you free tomorrow night?"
"Barring
a last-minute meeting or emergency I am."
"Then,
dinner?"
She
stood next to him, watched as the automatic mooring clamps took hold. "Just tell me where."
"Lavellier, but I can pick you up in the embassy flitter."
"Wow, that place?
Way to impress a girl. I've
heard it's impossible to get a table there." She saw his face change. "Unless you're the Vulcan
ambassador. I think there are a
hell of a lot of perks you get that no one is aware of."
"Very
possibly." He leaned into her,
his arm pressing against hers.
"I enjoy the food. But
I also wish to...pamper you."
"Pamper? Is that a term a Vulcan would use?"
"I
was married to a human woman for many years. I adapted."
She
laughed. "I've never been to
that restaurant and have always wanted to try it, so I'll be looking forward to
it."
"As
will I." He eased away from
her and walked to the door, picking up the satchel with his padds as he went.
He
didnÕt hold the door for her—went through it first, in fact. She laughed to herself: he hadn't
totally adapted. But that was
okay. She'd rather be pampered and
not have him hold the door for her than the reverse.
##
Chapel
stared at her closet and realized she had no idea what to wear to dinner. It wasn't that she lacked pretty
dresses. She went to plenty of
functions where uniforms were discouraged.
She had a lot of dresses.
Some sexy and some downright prudish: it all depended on the norms of
the various planets. But what would
Sarek want from her?
She'd
never seen Amanda in anything but Vulcan robes. Which definitely ran on the side of
prudish. But she wasn't Amanda and
she didn't envision a robe in her future unless it was meant
to be worn over a negligee—or an old t'shirt.
She
finally decided to wear the dress she felt the prettiest in. Not the sexiest—she had several
very low cut dresses that clung in the right places that fit that bill. This was draped and forgiving, a dark
plum that went well with her coloring, cut just low enough to bring her assets
into prominence without shouting, "look at my breasts." Three quarter sleeves and a knee length
hem made it a winner on most worlds unless the natives were very phobic about seeing a woman's skin. She slipped on some heels that were
comfortable enough to walk in but still flattering, and dug around in her
jewelry box for the heavy silver necklace she normally wore with the dress.
Her
make-up was moderate—her days of wild eyes were behind her—and she'd
let her hair dry wavy.
Why
was she obsessing over this? The
man had seen her naked. For two
days. This was all quite
unnecessary.
She
was saved from any further dithering by the sound of her chime. She grabbed a wrap and opened the
door. Sarek was in a robe—no
surprise there—but it was a nice one.
"No
last-minute emergencies," she said with a grin.
"For
which I am very grateful." He
moved aside and she let the door close and lock behind
her. "I have not seen that
dress before."
"I
have a lot of dresses you haven't seen." She realized he wasn't saying if he
liked it or not. Stupid Vulcans.
"I
look forward to seeing them."
"All
of them?"
"Yes." He followed her onto
the elevator and met her eyes, his were intense.
"Some
of them are just this side of scandalous."
He
let an eyebrow be her answer. What
the hell did that mean? "Is
that the eyebrow of 'I can't wait to see that' or 'I wonder if I will have to
burn it for being unseemly'?"
"The
former."
She
laughed. Maybe Vulcans weren't so
stupid after all. "I said
scandalous."
"You
indicated slightly less than. I do
listen to you."
"So
I'm getting." She cocked her
head. "So do you like this
dress?"
"I
do. Very much." The door opened and he was off.
She
started to laugh. This might take
some getting used to. Be direct and
keep up seemed to be the rule.
Then
he turned back to look at her, his expression changing, turning tender. Oh hell, she could get used to anything
if he gave her that look a few hundred times a day.
She
grinned at him, saw his eyes lighten, the slight quirk of his lips. She caught up with him, murmured,
"Have I told you that you look very handsome tonight?"
"You
have not. Does that mean I look
more handsome than I usually do or that normally you do not find me
handsome?" The way he cocked
his eyebrow told her he was playing with her.
"What
do you think?"
"Amanda
often told me I was a fine figure of a man. But taste is relative. You may disagree."
She
followed him into the flitter, laughing as she slid in next to him. "I do not disagree. Amanda generally had exquisite
taste."
"I,
too, have exquisite taste." He
reached down and laid his hand over hers, then told the flitter their
destination.
She
relaxed, leaning back and crossing her legs. He watched her legs as she did it; she
wasn't sure he was aware he was doing it.
His hand on top of hers felt warm and comforting, and she turned her
hand, opening her fingers, then waited to see if he would twine his fingers
with hers.
He
did, tightening his grasp on her slowly.
She wasn't sure how he did it, but suddenly she was aroused, ever little
movement of the flitter seemed to be translated in the way they were
touching.
She
realized she was breathing a little heavier and turned to look at him. "Is this just me?"
He
didn't ask what she meant, just tightened his grip on her hand and said,
"No."
"Good."
He
gently let go of her. "As much
as I am enjoying it, we do need to get through dinner with some modicum of
dignity."
She
laughed softly. "And you were
in danger of not? I know I was
getting ready to tell the flitter to take us back to my place."
"Indeed,"
he said, as he looked out he window, and she thought he was doing whatever
Vulcan men did to get rid of an erection.
She
glanced down—impossible to tell the way his robe was sitting. Had he arranged it that way on purpose?
She
realized he was looking at her and started to laugh. "Sorry, I'm just—this is
new. And fun. Finding out things about you."
"And
you."
"Right. Only those aren't as fun for
me." She laughed at his
expression. So accommodating. So at ease. "I didn't expect this. That trifecta I talked about with Roger...?"
He
nodded.
"Well,
love and respect you and I already have.
I guess I wasn't so sure about lust."
"Until
now?"
"Boy
howdy."
His
puff of amusement was louder than usual, and his lips did turn up—it was
miniscule but it was a smile. She
wanted to take a snap so she'd have proof she could make him smile if she took
him by surprise.
"I
understand what you are saying and agree," he said, his voice gentle but
husky—and so damn sexy. Could
they really not turn this damn flitter around? After dinner they'd be full and sex
wasn't as fun when your stomach was stuffed.
Then
again, he'd said there was no rush.
It was possible this was his idea of foreplay. Holy God, if that's what he could do
just holding her hand, she was not going to survive
this.
"What
are you thinking?" His
amusement was evident.
"I'm
just wondering how long we're going to wait."
"That
will be up to us."
"A
true diplomat. The most vague yet
optimistic answer possible."
She studied him. "Fine. It'll happen when it happens. Can we go back to holding hands?"
He
turned away, but not before she saw his eyes crinkle slightly. "You are a seasoned professional in
handling emergencies. I have seen
you exercise great patience when the situation called for it."
"You're
right. What was I thinking? Bring on dinner. We can wait forever." She pretended to be offended, crossed
her arms over her chest and looked out the window.
"I
find forever to be unsatisfactory."
"Well,
me too, but I'm trying to be dramatic, so just go with it."
"Ah. Proceed, then."
"Oh,
I was done. That's as dramatic as I
get." She leaned her head
against his shoulder. "What
are you going to order?"
"What
makes you think I have my meal already selected?"
"Because
you're you. You leave nothing to chance,
Sarek. So what are you going to
have?"
"The
ratatouille. I quite enjoy the way
they prepare it."
"Not
my fav.
Do I have to go vegetarian?"
"You
can eat whatever pleases you. I
have seen far worse than anything you might order tonight."
"Including
sweetbreads?" She glanced up
to see his expression.
He
looked slightly sickened.
"Including those."
"Don't
worry. I hate those."
He
looked relieved. She was just glad
that he didn't expect her to give up her carnivorous ways.
The
flitter arrived at the restaurant before she could ask him what he was having
for an appetizer. She'd been out
enough with Amanda and him to know he had a hearty appetite—except for
dessert. That was all right with
her: she'd never had much of a sweet tooth.
He
preceded her into Lavellier, but only by a few steps:
it was clear she was with him. It
didn't tick her off the way it had when he'd charged off the wrong direction to
her apartment. It was his
way—the Vulcan way—and she wasn't going to get him to change it for
her, so she decided to ignore it and think instead about the yummy feelings his
fingers touching her had induced.
The ma”tre d' fawned all over them. So did the waiters. And the sommelier, who
seemed to realize he had an audience of one when it came to wine but that Sarek
would spring for anything. She
ended up ordering a half bottle of a very expensive
white Bordeaux, but only after Sarek told her it was one Amanda had liked. He really didn't seem to care if she
drank—and that was probably why the shuttle had stocked booze for a
Vulcan, because his wife had always wanted it and the embassy hadn't told them
any different this time.
They
shared several vegetarian appetizers and a salad, and talked about easy things,
no uncomfortable silences marring their conversation. She ended up ordering scallops in a beurre blanc sauce with country
potatoes. Sarek seemed to find
scallops completely unobjectionable.
They really did look more like water chestnuts than meat. Good news for her: they were one of her
favorites.
When
the waiter asked if they wanted dessert, she was happy to shake her head. Sarek paid and they left, the ma”tre d'
seeing them out to the flitter he had apparently called for them while Sarek
was settling the bill.
She
slid into the flitter seat and collapsed against Sarek once the door
closed. "Okay that was so
good. You are never going to top
that."
"I
believe you are wrong." He
sounded both amused and competitive.
Never dare him: good to know.
"Well,
maybe so, but that was amazing.
Thank you."
He
leaned his head against hers—a charmingly sweet and familiar thing to
do. "You are most
welcome."
When
they got to her apartment, he did not come in. She could tell by looking at him that it
wasn't because he was too rude or too Vulcan to walk her to her door: it was
because he didn't want to rush and if he came upstairs, he would not be coming
back down until morning.
She
turned just before she got to the door to the building. He was watching her, and he raised his
hand. She grinned, knowing he could
have just told the flitter to go but had wanted to watch her. "Good night," she called, not
too loud: he'd hear her.
And
he did. He nodded and finally told
the flitter to move.
She
rode the elevator up to her apartment thinking about the great food she might
be in for: she hoped Sarek didn't mind his ladies with some flesh on their
bones. Because she did not have
Amanda's "I eat and eat and never gain a pound" metabolism.
Then
again she skipped lunch half the time at work, so it would probably even
out. Especially once they started
having sex—very athletic sex if the Pon Farr
was any indication.
She
had a moment's worry that maybe Vulcans weren't like that at any other time,
but then she remembered how it had felt when he held her hand, how he'd had to
look away, how his head felt pressed against hers.
This
was going to be good. She knew
it. She didn't think Amanda would
have stuck with him if it hadn't been good for her. Her friend had a backbone of steel
hidden in that seemingly delicate body—and an appetite for life.
And a wonderfully giving heart. It was harder and harder for Chapel to
not think that Amanda had set this whole thing up.
##
"You
seem happy," Montenegro said as she passed Chapel some padds to sign off
on before the latest team headed off.
"Do
I not normally seem happy?"
"You
normally seem efficient."
"Ouch." Chapel laughed. Was that how her staff saw her? All work and no life? And how funny would they find it if they
knew a Vulcan was the source of her happiness? "Does that mean I'm not efficient
now?"
Montenegro
laughed. "No. Of course not. You just...your smile is
different."
"Is
there a pool on this?"
Montenegro
blushed.
"Really? Really?" She handed back the padd. "Give me the details."
"The
question is who."
Chapel
laughed. "Who have you
picked?"
"I
haven't picked anyone. You're my
mentor. It would be bad taste to
engage in an office pool."
"And
gambling on the job is illegal."
Chapel rolled her eyes at that one—they'd all be in the brig if
anyone enforced it. Pools were a
way of life in emergency ops.
"I think you're waiting till you see me with someone."
Montenegro
gave her the most innocent expression possible and then laughed. "Possibly. He has to show up eventually."
"But
by then all the names will be gone.
The waiting game is not without risk. What if that person—and what makes
you think it's a he?—shows up while you're
away?"
"Is
it a woman? Some people, who shall
remain a mystery, said it might be a woman, but I think it's a guy."
"I'm
not saying anything." She
tried not to laugh. She was
actually glad Sarek hadn't stopped in to see her—she wanted these suckers
to work for that prize.
Not that she wasn't seeing him. She was, frequently and at very nice
places. But he was taking his sweet
time getting them anywhere private.
She knew why he was doing that, though, and she appreciated it. When they did come together, it would no
longer be about Amanda or a biological imperative. It would be about them.
"You've
got that look again. Damn it,
Captain, I'm your protŽgŽ, aren't I?
Couldn't you toss me a clue?
The team's having to travel out with
Harriman. I can't stand him."
"My
condolences. Truly. Although it is my duty to remind you
that he is still an officer and a superior one."
"I'll
be good. He's just so..." Montenegro
shook her head and scrunched up her face, like she'd just caught a whiff of a
bad smell. "I wish I'd known
Kirk."
"I
wish you had, too." She took a
deep breath and then said, "He's not human."
"Kirk?"
Chapel
made an impatient face.
"Ohhhhhh. Not
even a little bit?"
"Not
even a little bit."
Shit—had someone picked Spock? "That's all I'm giving you. Now, enough time wasted on that. Say hello to Demora
for me. And once you're on Kelesta, keep your head down and your eyes open." The old ops goodbye.
"Aye
aye, ma'am." Montenegro stopped to say something to
someone Chapel couldn't see, pointed back toward her, then she headed right for
Murphy's desk at comms. Since he generally ran the pools, it
looked like the waiting game was over.
Had Chapel done something to tip her off?
She
got up and saw Sarek walking around the back of ops toward her office. His expression gave nothing away, but
Montenegro glanced at him, then at Chapel, and gave her a big smile.
Chapel
rolled her eyes at her, then gestured for Sarek to
come into her office. "To what
do I owe this visit, Ambassador?"
She pitched her voice lower, just for them. "You don't usually visit."
"I
have been called away. I do not
know how long I will be gone. I
wanted to...tell you in person."
She
grinned. "I like that. I don't like that you'll be gone, but
such is your life."
"Indeed."
"Amanda
went with you."
He
nodded.
"I
won't be able to."
"I
know. We will create our own
way."
She
felt a surge of relief. They hadn't
talked about this. But he sounded
sincere and unconcerned. "Are
you going somewhere dangerous?"
"No. Tedious, I fear." He met her eyes. "I will think about you
often."
"When
things get extra boring? And who
said romance was dead?"
His
lips ticked up more than normal—he was always susceptible to her stealth
hits of humor. "I will see you
when I return."
"Damn
well better." She stood, told
the office computer, "Privacy."
Her door slid shut.
"Can I kiss you goodbye?"
"Yes." He moved to her and took her into his
arms, kissing her before she could kiss him. Typical Vulcan—not that she was
going to complain since she liked how he kissed.
Very, very much.
"When
I get back, perhaps it is time we ate in? " He met her eyes, and she saw a host of
emotions in his.
"I'm
game." This time she leaned in
and kissed him, just a short one, then she patted him on the rear and laughed
at his expression. "Not
Amanda, sorry."
"You
think she never did that?" His
eyebrow went up and he said, "Computer, open door."
"Safe
trip, Ambassador," she said, a little more loudly than necessary, once the
door was open.
He
glanced into the bay, then said, "That young woman who directed me to your
office—"
"Just
put your name in a pool on who I'm dating.
Apparently I look happy so they know something's up."
"How
did they think you appeared before?"
"Efficient."
"I
would take that as a compliment, although I find it satisfying to know I make
you happy. What will she win?"
"A
bottle of expensive hooch, usually.
We're not very creative—use all that energy on the
emergencies."
"Logical." He took a deep breath. "I find it difficult to
leave."
"Shall
I walk you out?"
"Do
not trouble yourself. I would find
it just as difficult to leave you at the door to ops as here."
"Wow,
you are hitting those right out of the park, Mister."
He
looked pleased. "Romance is
much like diplomacy."
She
made a face, a joke between them about how she viewed diplomacy, "Then you
are doing it wrong, Sarek."
"I
think not. Witness your
happiness." At that he nodded
gently and walked out.
She
waited a few minutes, then wandered over to where Montenegro was working. "Did you get your pick in?"
"Oh,
yeah." Montenegro looked up at
her. "Wow. Impressive."
"Yeah?"
"Smart—well,
I guess that goes without saying because they all are. Powerful. Handsome." She sighed happily. "And it's eighteen-year-old scotch
this time. I'm so going to enjoy
winning."
"You
were just lucky he walked in when he did."
"Luck
is our friend." Another ops saying.
Montenegro stood up.
"Well, we're off. Don't
do anything I wouldn't do."
"Me? Miss Efficient?" She laughed and headed back to her
office. She realized she was smiling,
a silly grin that Sarek brought out of her more and more. Ironic that a Vulcan
made her more...what?
Human? Ironic,
but nice.
##
Chapel
hit the comms going off at the station she'd
commandeered. Others around her
were doing the same, trying to get answers as the situation on Kelesta went further to shit and took three moons and a
neighboring planet, Sarga V, with it.
"Give
me a status on our team," she said to no one in particular as she closed
down her last comm and turned to the room. There were more than her team, of
course, working on the planet, but she wasn't responsible for them the same way
as the five-person team she'd sent.
Cassat looked pale. "Two dead, ma'am, one critically
injured. Two uninjured."
"Damn
it." She waited as he listened
to more info, saw his expression change, a look of
deep sorrow coming over his face.
"Cale and D'Lthr are
dead." He met her eyes. He and D'Lthr
were close, possibly in a relationship—Chapel had never been sure.
"I'm
sorry," she mouthed to him, and he nodded.
"Montenegro
is the one in critical condition.
Largent and Liu are working from Excelsior. Our people are in sickbay on the ship."
"Let
me know if you get updates," Chapel said, her eyes falling on Montenegro's
station before she turned back to the comms, which
were on fire again. She took a
moment to thank the fates that Harriman had moved on and Sulu was managing the
situation, then she let it all go and went back to doing what she did: handling
things.
She
was pulled away for several meetings in the CINC's office—Kelesta was part of a cluster of strategically placed
planets and there was considerable interest in how things went.
When
she got back, she passed Cassat, who said, "Do
you want anything to eat, ma'am?
I'm making a run to the cafeteria."
"I've
got energy bars in my office.
Thanks, though." She
kept going, stopped to pour herself more coffee, then headed to her office to
eat and pop some stims.
Not
recommended, but she had no idea how long this crisis was going to last, and
her people needed her awake and leading.
Her
comm went off and she saw it was a message from
Jan. She hurried to open it.
Jan
looked harried on the recording.
"I've only got a sec.
Your girl's fine—out of danger. Though it was close—they thought
they lost her, but she's made of strong stuff, just like us. Thought you'd want to know."
Chapel
blinked back tears she didn't have time for. Wrote a quick text-only to Jan that just
said "Thank you," then leaned back.
Montenegro
wasn't just like them. Emilia had
started in Emergency Ops. She'd
never gotten a chance to be on a ship the way Chapel and Jan had, to see what
other possibilities were out there for a young officer. She'd spent the last two years risking
her life and emulating Chapel.
And nearly dying for it.
But
she was out of danger so Chapel had to let that go and move on. Deal with this. The way she always did. God help her but it felt like this place
was in her blood. Most of the
people who'd been in Ops when she'd started had moved on. Should she have done the same?
Shit,
this was not the time to wonder about her career choices. She got up and went out to the bay,
where the noise and the energy and managed chaos would put her back in the
state she needed to be in—the state her people needed her to be in.
She
got called away multiple times for updates and status reports, was ready to
drop as she walked back from the latest one. She was pondering diverting for some of
the espresso in the cafeteria when she saw Sarek in the hallway. "You're back?"
He
moved to her, seemed to be able to read how tired she was. "How many stims
have you taken?"
"It's
immaterial. What are you doing
back?"
"The
meetings were wrapped up expeditiously to all partys'
surprise. The crisis on Kelesta was on every channel as I traveled back. I thought of you."
"I
lost two people. Almost
another." She took a deep
breath. "And there are a lot
more casualties than that." But not on the Excelsior. Not yet and hopefully not at all.
He
surprised her by reaching for her arm, lifting it and studying her hand, which
was shaking. "I may be able to
help you."
"I
have coffee. And I have pills,
Sarek. It's the Ops way."
"As
is alcohol. I am aware of
that. But if I have a better method
of helping you, would it not be prudent to try?"
"Will
it take long?"
"It
will not."
"Here?" She looked around the corridor.
"Your
office." He was already
turning her. For once he let her
lead, following her without comment into her office, then waiting as she told
the computer to give them privacy.
"What
are you going to do? A meld?"
"Sometimes,
when there is true resonance between partners, one can buoy another."
"Resonance? Do you mean a bond? Because I don't have time for that,
Sa—"
His
hand over her lips shut her up.
"You are human and lack the requisite psi capability. There can be no bond between us."
She
pushed his hand away. "I
didn't realize that." She
found that idea a relief, had been worried about
sharing more than she should if they were bonded.
"Our
ability to meld is unaffected, which is fortunate because it allows me to do
this..." He put his fingers on her face and was inside her mind.
She
could feel his dismay at how chaotic her energy was, but she could also feel his
pride that she was handling this, that nothing would stop her. He moved closer, and while it would have
been sensual normally, this time, she felt as if someone had thrown her into a
cool lake on a hot summer day. Time
stopped for a moment, and she felt a shiver and the sensation of her cares
being slipped away from her. Then
he withdrew slowly, and everything came back.
But
her hands no longer shook, and she didn't feel as if she'd been living on
caffeine and stims. "Thank you."
"You
will need to sleep when this is over.
Your body may resist with all the stimulants in your system. I can
ensure you sleep despite that. Come
to the residence. I do not care
what time you are finally finished.
Come to me. Do you
understand?"
She
leaned in and kissed him. As she
pulled away, she meant to tell him thank you again, but it came out, "I
love you."
His
eyes were very gentle as he pushed a tendril of her hair back into place. "As I do you. I could not have helped you were it not
so. Now, I will let you get back to
work."
She
smiled and gestured toward the ceiling, the general direction everyone thought
of for the computer.
"Open
door," he said, with a look of satisfaction.
"I
know you like to lead," she said, feeling light enough to joke even if
what lay out in the bay would not be a joking matter. She felt as if he'd given her more than
energy: he'd given her perspective and distance.
"I
am a Vulcan male. It is what you
are signing up for."
"Well
aware, dear." She
grinned. "Now, git.
Someone—probably a hundred someones—wants
me to fix this." Or help to do
so. This wasn't all on her.
"And
you will handle the requests to the best of your considerable abilities. It is what you do." His expression turned graver. "I am sorry for your
casualties."
"Me,
too." She sighed,
hating the idea of the comms she would have to make
to their family—comms she made far too often in
this job. Then she pushed that
thought aside and followed him out, heading to her station, not bothering to
watch him walk out, although she thought she could sense his eyes on her as she
went back to work.
##
Chapel
felt like she was going to fall down as she made her way to the Vulcan
embassy. The calm energy that Sarek
had given her was long gone and more caffeine and stims
had kept her going, but now she felt like she was going to shake apart.
She
was getting too goddamn old for this.
Running on empty was a game for the young.
Then
she thought of Montenegro, sleeping away in an induced healing coma in Excelsior's sickbay, of Cale and D'Lthr in that same
sickbay's morgue facilities, and decided maybe it wasn't a game for
anyone.
She
stumbled up the embassy stairs, wishing she'd worn sunglasses—why the
hell was it such a bright damn day?
The guards waved her through, and she sighed in relief as the cool and
slightly dark interior of the embassy welcomed her. She walked slowly down to Semek's desk, and he nodded at her before she got all the
way, standing and coming to her.
"Captain
Chapel. The ambassador is in
meetings for the next hour, but he told me to tell you to make yourself at home
in his private chambers." His
eyes narrowed slightly. "Are
you all right?"
"I've
been working for too long.
Emergencies: not something you can take a break from."
"Indeed
not. I admire what you do,
Captain. I am not sure I would want
to work at that pace for such a sustained period."
She
smiled. "Sarek keeps you
running."
"It
is not the same, and we both know it." His eyebrow went up, but it was in a
good-natured way. "Please, go
up. Everything you need is
there."
"Everything
but the ambassador." Shit, had
she said that out loud?
"He
will be there shortly." Semek's expression and tone didn't change—he must not
think her comment strange, then.
But if she was going to Sarek's rooms by Sarek's wish, why would
he? It was probably only logical to
deduce what was going on. Besides, Semek had probably made the reservations for all their
dinners.
"Thank
you." She smiled and turned, having
to stop and muster her energy to go up the massive staircase to Sarek's rooms. She walked in and saw a note on the table
near the door. In exquisite
handwriting it was addressed to her, so she opened it and read, "There are
refreshments if you are hungry or thirsty.
If you wish to take a shower, you will find towels in the bathroom. If you can sleep on your own, the bed is
turned down."
She
peeked into his bedroom. The bed
was turned down with the precision she'd expect from a Vulcan.
She
picked at the fruit and cheese that had been set out for her. Cut a piece of bread from a loaf still
warm from the stasis board it sat on.
She eyed the wine—it was her favorite—but opted for water. She had enough chemicals in her as it
was.
Then,
not able to stand another moment in her uniform, she took it off and went into
the bathroom, peeling off her underwear and bra. She saw a robe reflected in the
mirror. She turned, took it off the
hook on the back of the door, and realized it was a thing of beauty. Silk, very soft, of a royal blue and navy
pattern with gold. Almost a paisley.
It tied in the front. Had he
had this made for her? It would
have been far too long for Amanda, so she knew it wasn't hers.
She
put the robe back on the door and got in the shower, letting the hot water
cascade over her, using the fragrant soap—some kind of citrus. Had he gotten this for her, too? She didn't remember him smelling of this
scent—and Amanda had always preferred florals. Chapel had told him she loved fragrances
with lemon, especially the ones that reminded her of the Amalfi
Coast. He might have picked this up
on one of his missions.
However
he got it, the smell took her back to Sorrento and Capri and Naples. Times she'd spent with Roger during a
vacation. Happy times.
God,
that girl she had been would never believe where she'd end up. So far away from
science and with no Roger.
She
rinsed her hair with shampoo that had been put in a little niche in the shower
stall. It didn't have any scent,
nothing to compete with the lovely soap, which she used again and again, trying
to wash the crisis—and all her worries—off her.
Finally,
she got out of the shower and dried off.
She finger combed her hair into some semblance of order, then slipped on the lovely robe. It was a little too big, but in that
good way, when a robe felt like something you could cuddle up in forever, not
something you'd drown in and was obviously the wrong size. She studied her reflection, the dark
circles under her eyes, the flush to her skin from too
many stims.
Turning
away, she went into the main room and ate a few more grapes, then curled up in
the armchair that had been Amanda's favorite. It still smelled vaguely of her perfume
if Chapel laid her face just so against the fabric. She found the scent comforting.
She
knew lying down would be a losing proposition. Despite how tired she was, the stims were rushing through
her. If she'd gone home, she had
meds to counteract them. Was it
wise to have come here instead? Could
Sarek help her better than her handy stock of drugs?
Why
wasn't she more worried that she had such a handy stock of drugs?
She
swallowed hard, then got up, walking to the comm panel, debating trying to use it to call Jan, to check
on Montenegro.
Jan
was probably sleeping. Unless she
too had been running on stims. Or maybe she was with Sulu, using all
that energy for other purposes.
They were involved now.
Finally. Sulu had waited
forever.
Sometimes
dreams did come true. Chapel closed
her eyes, remembering what an ass she had made of herself over Spock. What was he going to think of her
relationship with his father? Had
Sarek told him anything about this?
She
left the comm panel and began to pace, trying to
outrun the annoying energy zinging through her. She wanted to lie down more than anything,
felt as if she might fall down if she remained standing too much longer.
Where
the hell was Sarek?
No. This wasn't Sarek's fault. He didn't tell her to pump herself full
of stims.
He'd been appalled that she had to some extent. She'd felt that in the meld, even if she
knew he would never say it. Unless
she did it all the time, then he might.
The
door opened and he walked in. He
closed the door without turning, staring at her, a look of satisfaction and...possession clear on his
face. "The robe suits
you."
"You
had it made for me?"
He
nodded. "I estimated your
proportions based on our time during the Pon
Farr."
She
smiled. "And added some inches
I hope to compensate for how well you pamper me with good food and wine."
"I
did not need to add inches. You do
not eat well at work usually."
He said it more as a fact than a criticism.
Since
he was right, she chose not to argue.
"It's beautiful. Thank
you. And the soap?"
He
moved to her, pulled her close, and leaned in, obviously smelling her skin. "You like it?"
"I
do, do you?"
"Very
much. I would not have bought it for you if I had not."
She
laughed. "Logical." Then her smile faded. "IÕm so tired, Sarek. I have meds at home."
"Let
me help you instead."
"They
may be more efficacious."
"Your
lack of faith in me is disconcerting." He put his arm around her, urged her
into the bedroom. "Take off
the robe, beautiful as it is. This
will be better accomplished skin to skin." He pulled off his robe, then his
undergarments.
She
slipped out of the robe, laid it over the bench at the end of the bed, then got under the covers. He slid in next to her and pulled her
close, running his hands up and down her skin, the feeling half soothing, half
sexual and arousing. She could feel
him against her: he wanted her.
"Make
love to me," she murmured.
"I
will. But not right now. You need sleep, not sex."
"Sex
is nice."
He
brushed her hair back. "I will
do what is right for you, Christine.
What is best for you. And satisfying our desires is not what
is best for you. You have been
awake too long. Now, close your
eyes."
She
did what he said, and he set his fingers on the meld point and was inside her
mind with seemingly no effort. She
smiled, loving that each meld was easier.
Then
he started to do something she didn't understand, pulling parts of her
consciousness away, filling her with his own presence, calming and so very
safe. "Sleep," he said or
maybe thought.
She
was conscious of his body both from how it felt pressed against her and from
his perspective, how she felt pressed against him.
"You
once told me you would do anything for me, Christine. Now I will tell you the same thing. Sleep. Let me bear your burdens for a
time."
The
jittery feeling was gone. All she felt
were the waves of exhaustion, pulling her down and down, as if she had jumped
off a cliff into the sea. It felt
like warm water was pulling her further out, peace filling her. The smell of Sorrento was all around
her, and Sarek's voice saying, "We will go there someday. I have never been," making her
smile.
"I
love you so," she murmured as she let go and fell fast asleep.
She
woke hours later, feeling more refreshed than she
could remember. Sarek was curled up
against her, his hands no longer on the meld points and she wondered how long
he'd had to bear her burdens. She
rubbed his arm, enjoying the heat of him, the solidity.
She'd
slept alone for so long. Even when
the friends she had sex with stayed over, she'd still felt alone in the
bed. But this was different. He was...hers.
She
realized he was awake and watching her, the sweetest look on his face. "Good morning."
"Good
morning." He touched her face,
clearly reading what she was feeling—how she was feeling. "You need more sleep."
"I'm
fine. And I have to get back to
work. The after-action reports are
going to be hell." She
snuggled closer. "But I have
time, if you want to...?" She
smiled as seductively as she could.
"I
want to."
"Good." She let her hand slide down his chest,
to his stomach and then lower, finding him, holding
him, squeezing and moving, and he closed his eyes and murmured,
"Christine. Yes."
Then
he was pulling her onto him, and she eased down and moaned at the feel of him. He stroked her as she rode him, clearly
using his touch telepathy to figure out exactly where she was and what would
get her the rest of the way. The
rest of the way was amazing, and she cried out as she came, then bit back the
sound when she realized he was making very little noise as he followed her home.
"There
is no need to restrain yourself.
This walls are quite soundproof." He almost smiled. "I may be silent but that is my way
outside of the Pon Farr. Amanda too enjoyed expressing her
pleasure, and I did not mind."
"If
you didn't like giving pleasure so much, there would be no need to spring for
all that extra baffling material in the walls."
"I
find the reward worth the expense."
He pulled her down and kissed her.
"I would have you here always.
In this bed, naked, with me this way."
"Always. Never leave?"
He
nodded. "I believe you have no
idea of the level of desire I have for you."
"I
like that." She nuzzled his
neck, moving to his ear, finding what moved him and what did not. "I hate to leave you now that
you've expressed your wish to never get out of this bed. But I have to."
"You
could return to this bed at your earliest convenience."
She
laughed. "I could and
will. It's time we ate in."
His
lips turned up, and his eyes were amused.
"Yes. It is." He kissed her, a very long, very
passionate kiss, and then let go of her.
"Go."
She
picked up her uniform and made a face—it was wrinkled and none too
fresh. "I have to get another uniform
at my apartment."
"Take
the flitter back to your apartment."
"Rather
an indulgence, isn't it? "
He
gave the Vulcan equivalent of a shrug.
She
rubbed her back. "Besides, I
could use the walk. Been lying down
for too long."
He
motioned toward the immense closet that Chapel had always lusted after. "If you wish, you are welcome to
keep any personal items you might need here."
"You're
giving me a drawer?"
"I
will give you an entire wardrobe.
There are several not in use."
She
laughed. "Deal. And you can keep some things at my place
too. I don't have as copious a selection
of furniture but we can squeeze you some space in the closet and dresser. A change of venue is nice—adds
variety, right?"
"Indeed. And it will be efficient to have items
there. It will allow more time for making
love."
She
smiled. "Such a human
term."
"But
apt. I see no harm in speaking in
terms that accurately describe what is occurring—even if the terms are
exceedingly human."
She
moved over to him, wanting to touch his face, feeling a wave of tenderness for
him that she needed to express. "Making
love is also a very emotional way to put it."
"Yes." His tone was mock severe and
disapproving. "Most unseemly." Then he pulled her down onto the bed and
kissed her again. He moved over and
into her, and she closed her eyes and let him do whatever he wanted as he made
love to her again. For a very long time.
She
ended up using the flitter since he'd kept her in bed so long, both to get to
her apartment and then to Starfleet Command. It was an indulgence, and she loved
every minute of it.
##
Chapel
looked through her notes on the padd she was holding as her team stood around
her in the main bay. "All
right, we've got mudslides on Cenac. I need four. Who feels like slogging through
that?"
Eight
hands went up, Montenegro's was one of them. "Fine, Wainwright, Cassat, Liu and M'Tak. And I know you're all doing this for the
free booze they serve us whenever we're there."
There
were some murmurs of "Got that right" and "Love that place"
and she laughed softly.
"Okay,
next. Clean-up
from an ion storm on Vega Omega Seven.
Borrrring. Two, please."
Four
hands went up. Not the same people
as before, except for Montenegro.
"Sulek and Carr. Thanks, folks. That's it for today." She watched them go back to their
stations—all except Montenegro.
"Something wrong, Lieutenant?"
"Yep. Can we talk privately?"
"Sure." She walked to her office, could hear how
angry Montenegro's footsteps sounded.
"Privacy," she said, as soon as they were clear of the door.
"Why
did you ignore me just now?"
"I
didn't ignore you. I simply didn't
choose you."
"Why? Since when am I not capable of slogging
through mud or cleaning shit up?"
"You're
recovering." She sat down and
motioned for Montenegro to take the chair on the other side of her desk but the
woman stayed standing.
"I'm
recovered. And I'm bored shitless. You have me on the most crap tasks
possible. I'm used to doing five
things at once—I learned that from you." She stopped and took a deep breath. "I have a doctor and you're not
her. She cleared me two days
ago. Why are you doing this to
me?"
"Emilia,
I don't know if you understand this but you were dead. On the table. They had to resuscitate you."
"So
what? You've been dead on a table
three times."
Chapel
could feel her expression freeze into an angry one. "How did you get into my medical
file?"
"I
didn't." Montenegro finally
sat, and Chapel thought it was an attempt to placate her. "Your medical file is close
hold. Our ops reports, on the other
hand, aren't. I just went through
all the ones you've been on."
"All
of them?"
"What
the hell else do I have to do? You
died three times. Once shot. Once drowned in a flash flood. Once smoke inhalation. And yet here you still are." She leaned forward. "You taught me to be like you. Why hold me back?"
"But
you're not like me, Emilia. You
came to us straight out of the Academy.
You've never served on a ship or on a starbase. There are other jobs out there. You can't become a lifer if you haven't
lived yet."
"Why
not? Helping people isn't a good way
to live a life? I don't want to be
on a ship. I'm so bored when we're
in transit. I watch what the crew
on the ships do, and I think it looks excruciating."
"It's
not dull."
"Maybe
not. But I believe I'd be
bored. And I can't live from one
red alert to another. This is what
I want to do." She studied
Chapel. "Send me with the others
to do clean-up."
"No."
She
expected Montenegro to protest or get angry, but she just leaned back and
looked down. Then she met her eyes
and said, "I know Admiral Cartwright was your mentor."
"Common
knowledge."
"Fine. But...if you'd had the opportunity to
stop him from going down the path he was on, wouldn't you have taken it?"
"Of
course. What does that have to do
with anything?"
Montenegro
swallowed hard. "I admire
you. I'm your friend, not just the
junior officer you've mentored, even if you don't maybe realize that. But I think I'm not the one that needs
to get out of Ops. I think you
are."
"What?"
"You're
burned out. You weren't before but
these last few months—you've changed. And this thing with me: it's not about
me. It's about you and how tired
you are and how you're sick of making those comms to
our families when we lose someone—do you think we don't know how hard that
must be for you?"
Chapel
leaned back, swallowing hard.
"That's no reason to run away."
"Who
said anything about running away? Commander
Rand told me you were on the short list for captain of the Hippocrates."
"What?" How the hell did Janice know that? Unless Sulu had heard
something and told her.
"You'd
be great at that. That crew would
be so lucky. You need to get out of
here, Christine."
Chapel
closed her eyes. "Fine, you
can go to the mud or the clean-up. Whichever you want."
"Does
that mean you'll think about what I've said? I know I'm out of line, but I had to say
it."
Chapel
opened her eyes and shook her head.
"No, you're my friend, Emilia—I do know that. You're not out of line. I am...tired. But it's just been a bad run."
"It's
not going to get better. And we
both know that." Montenegro
stood. "I hate mud, free booze
notwithstanding."
"Have
fun with clean-up, then. I'll amend the orders for three."
"Thank
you." She walked around the
desk and surprised Chapel with an impromptu and slightly awkward hug. "You mean the world to
me." Then she let her go,
said, "Open door," and hurried out.
Chapel
amended the orders and sent them on before she could forget, and then sat—it
required too much energy to think very hard about what Montenegro had said, to consider her options.
She
was just so damn tired.
##
She
lay in bed with Sarek in his chambers, one of the negligees she'd brought over
and stored in the enormous wardrobe half off her thanks to his attentions. He seemed to approve of her lingerie
selection even if she never seemed to wear it for long.
She
shrugged the rest of it off and pushed it off the bed, then picked delicacies
off a cart full of food that he'd had sent up from the kitchen. "This is something I could get used
to."
"I
fully expect you to." He
nudged her toward some Spanish cheese, and she laughed and grabbed a piece,
holding it to his mouth. He took it
delicately and closed his eyes as he chewed.
"It
is good." She took a piece for
herself, then some more grapes. She
never had fresh fruit—or any interesting food, really—at her
place. The embassy always had
something yummy, shuttled in from all over the planet and beyond. "So my protŽgŽ told me today I
should get out of Ops. That I'm
burnt out."
"Do
you believe she is right?"
"Do
you?"
He
shook his head. "This is not
about what I think. It is your
career and you must decide. Is she
right?"
Chapel
took a huge strawberry, putting off answering as she bit into it, enjoying the
sweetness. Finally, she finished,
and said softly, "Yes."
"Then
what are you going to do?" He
pointed to the strawberries and like a dutiful serf she fed a small one to him,
laughing as he kissed her fingers after he was done eating.
"I'm
on the short list for the Hippocrates."
"The
flagship of the medical fleet.
Quite an honor."
She
nodded.
"Yet
you are not happy?"
"I
don't want to be on a ship. I don't
want to leave you."
"Fortunate. I would also prefer that. But you are tired and you should wait
until you are rested to make a decision."
She
laughed softly. "No, I should
wait until they actually offer it to me."
"I
stand corrected." His lips
tilted slightly, his eyes were soft.
"You wish to stay with me?"
"I
do. But I'm not Amanda. I can't just follow you around as your..."
"My
mate. My wife." He stroked her hair back.
She
frowned. "Did you just
propose?"
"I
believe I did."
"Oh. Okay."
"Is
that an acceptance?"
She
laughed harder. "Yeah, I guess
it was." She leaned in and
kissed him. "Least romantic
proposal ever."
"Which
should come as no surprise since it is I you will marry." He sat up. "What if you were not with me
solely as my wife?"
"Go
on."
"There
are generally two types of individuals drawn to diplomacy. Those with large egos that see glory
ahead."
"You
hate those types." It was the
kind of person he bitched the most about after missions. Even if he would never
admit to bitching.
"I
do not select them for my staff."
"Same
diff." She grabbed the plate
of strawberries and put it between them.
"And the second type?"
"Those
who desire peace and prosperity for all.
A sincere, driving need. My staff is full of such individuals,
both Vulcan and otherwise."
"Sounds
like a good thing."
"They
have a tendency to desire the end-state to such a degree that they superimpose
it on the present. They see the
best in people. At times this
has..."
"Bit
you in the ass?" She took
another strawberry, extra dark and so damn sweet.
"Precisely. I need someone who tends to look at
situations as they are. Who expects
negativity but is not pessimistic about our chances to change that."
"You
need me. Or someone like me."
"You
will do nicely."
She
fed him another strawberry.
"That's because someone like me won't lie in bed with you and
pretend you're a Roman emperor, peeling grapes and all."
"You
have never peeled a grape for me."
"And
I'm not going to start now."
She lay back. "Can you
make this happen? I don't want to
leave Starfleet to try it."
"You
will not have to. I am able to
finesse just about anything I choose to focus on. If I want another Starfleet billet
added, it will happen. The question
is do you want me to do it now or do you want to wait to see if you are offered
the Hippocrates?"
"If
we wait, and I turn it down, I will fuck my career over beyond repair. One does not turn down the Hippocrates."
He
showed no surprise at her language, but then they'd been together long enough
for him to know she was way too fond of swearing. Fortunately, she could temper it when
necessary.
"Do
it now, Sarek. Get the ball
moving. So I'm taken. They'll be relieved. One less qualified candidate to worry
about."
"As
you wish. I will get a meeting with
the CINC tomorrow."
"You
don't just get a meeting with the CINC." She saw his expression change to the one
he always wore when she underestimated just how much access he had. "Fine, maybe you do. Go forth and
create a billet."
He
pulled her down and kissed her.
"You will increase my staff's efficiency—and my own. And we will have this."
"And
I don't want to lose this. Not now
that I finally have it." She
ran her fingers through his hair, pressing gently, an impromptu head massage. "You really want to get married?"
"I
do. You are mine. And I am yours. I want to formalize that."
She
started to laugh. "This will
be Spock's worst nightmare."
"That
is an exaggeration." He
gestured for her to bring the cheese plate over, too. "And even if it is, he is rarely
here."
"True. He'll be here next week, though. Or were you not going to tell me?"
He
did not look surprised that she knew.
"Semek told you I had made reservations
for dinner for the three of us?"
"He
did. He likes me." Hell, she seemed to be popular with most
Vulcans—why the hell did it have to be Spock, the one Vulcan immune to
her charms, who had caught her eye so long ago?
"Semek does appear to think highly of you. It will ease your integration into the
team, having him on your side. He
is my gate-keeper."
She
lay back, wondering what it would feel like to not be in Ops after so many
years.
"Second
thoughts?"
She
reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. "Nope. Just contemplating the future."
"It
will be with me."
"I
love the sound of that." She
looked over at him. "Do you
think Amanda meant this to happen?"
His
face changed, a tenderness that was part for her and part for Amanda "I do. She would know that I would seek you out
after the Pon Farr. I have always regarded you highly."
She
turned to her side. "And
knowing she'd approve of me—of this—that makes it easier to
proceed, doesn't it?"
"It
does. But even if I thought she
would not approve, I would still want you.
I care deeply for you."
She
loved when he spoke in such sweet terms—more of Amanda's training, no
doubt. "I love you, too,
Sarek. Thank you for taking care of
me."
"It
was you who first took care of me.
And it is hardly a selfless act." He pointed to a fat strawberry and
raised an eyebrow.
"Tyrant,"
she said and fed him the berry, feeling as if a huge weight had been lifted
from her. One she hadn't even been
consciously aware was crushing her.
She
owed Montenegro a bottle of very good scotch.
##
Chapel
followed Sarek out of the flitter and saw Spock waiting for them inside the restaurant. "Are we late? Did you make us late?" He'd been particularly amorous before
they'd left.
"Christine,
you are nervous."
"No
shit, I'm nervous. You try telling
the guy you used to stalk that you're going to be his stepmom."
"I
will tell him, so you may relax."
He nodded to Spock as they walked in. "My son."
"Father. Cap—Christine."
She
smiled, tried to make it the least sexual one she could then was afraid it was
coming off as some kind of mad-clown grin.
"Spock."
"This
way," the ma”tre d' said, and they followed him. "Shall I send the sommelier
over?"
"Please,"
Sarek said, before she could answer, and he looked at her, fondness evident.
"Ah,"
Spock said. "I had heard that
you were together."
She
was surprised he would tackle this head on. And so calmly. She decided to let Sarek answer him.
"We
are. She will be my wife."
"Congratulations." He did not look at Chapel as he said it.
Her
nervousness fled, replaced by a low-grade anger. "Who told you?"
"What?"
"Who
told you we were togther?" He was rarely at the embassy, and she
couldn't see Semek telling him. Would the other Vulcans be gossips?
"Christine,
he is aware. Is that not
sufficient?" Sarek turned back
to Spock. "You are well?"
"I
am." He finally looked at
her. "You both appear to
prosper."
"Christine
will be joining my staff."
Sarek looked pleased; he'd gotten the billet approved and moved over to
his staff in record time.
"I
see."
Chapel
was getting sick of his short responses.
"It's good news all around, huh?"
"Indeed. I am quite..."
"Floored. Appalled. Giddy with anticipation?" She started to laugh. "Could we please just admit this is
really strange?"
"Well,
to be fair to you, Christine, my father and I rarely have comfortable
interactions."
"Indeed,"
Sarek said. "Dinner out is an uncommon
event for us."
"So
you're both doing this for me?"
She smiled broadly as the sommelier walked up, ordering a glass of some
special cabernet rather than a bottle—she wanted to stay clear headed. As
he left, she smiled and said,
"Saved by the wine."
"My
mother used to say that." For
a moment, Spock's expression became very gentle.
"I
can imagine her saying that."
Chapel leaned forward.
"I respect her place in Sarek's life, Spock. I'm not trying to replace her."
For
a moment, Spock's jaw tightened.
Then he said, "Before she died, she told me that you and my father
might...become involved. And that I
should support you."
Sarek
looked surprised. "She told
you that?"
"Indeed. She was always concerned for our
relationship. And
your happiness, Father. And
yours, too, I imagine, Christine.
You were, after all, her friend."
"I
was. I loved her."
Spock
nodded, acceptance clear even if awkwardness was not far behind. "You are a woman of excellent
character. I have always known
that."
"Thank
you." She glanced at
Sarek. He looked...relieved. Had he thought Spock would fight this? Be mean to her? Run in fear? "What are you doing these
days?"
Spock
seemed to shut down a little.
"I am working on a special project."
They
waited and he gave them nothing more.
"Okay,
then." She glanced at Sarek
and his look told her to leave it alone.
She leaned back and sighed in relief as her wine arrived.
She
would let Sarek do the heavy conversational lifting for a while—she was
going to drink.
She
felt Sarek's hand on her knee under the tablecloth, a
gentle squeeze and then he let go.
They
were saved from idle chit chat by the waiter, who
detailed the house specialties in excruciating detail. When he finally took their order and left,
she started to laugh.
"Wow."
"Indeed." Spock's mouth turned up slightly. "Jim used to always find such
displays amusing."
"You
miss him," she said as gently as she could.
He
met her eyes. For once, there
wasn't any of the old tension between them. He seemed to accept she'd said that from
a place of love—but not romantic love. "I do. Very much."
"I'm
sorry he's gone. Harriman..." She put a
load of scorn on the name.
"The
less said about him the better," Sarek said, earning him looks from both
her and Spock. "What is so
surprising about my statement? I
have had to travel on his ship. He
is most...uninspiring."
"Amen." Chapel shook her head. "How that man has a ship is beyond
me."
"It
was beyond Jim as well." Spock
looked down. "And yet he went
to the launch."
"And
he saved the ship and those on board," Sarek said, far more gently than
she thought was his norm when talking to Spock. "He died most bravely, my
son."
"Yes." Spock looked down.
"Scant
consolation," she murmured, and Spock met her eyes and nodded.
There
was a long moment of uneasy silence, but then the salads arrived and they could
busy themselves with eating, and she could try to get them to lighter ground by
saying, "Len will be in town next week. He's getting together the old
crew."
Spock
nodded. "I will be there. Will you?"
"Wouldn't
miss it."
"And
you, father?"
"I
was not part of that crew, Spock.
My presence would add nothing."
She
turned to him and smiled.
"You'd be bored by all the 'Remember when?' stories."
"Quite
likely." He looked over at
Spock. "Saavik is returning to
Earth."
Spock
finally perked up. "She did
not notify me."
"Maybe
she wanted to surprise you."
Chapel grinned at him. She
hadn't met Saavik yet, but she was intrigued.
"Perhaps.
Valeris was a...wedge between us."
"Well,
Valeris is gone now. So...work that
out." She smiled and realized
it was a very mom thing to say—could this get any weirder?
"You
are no doubt right, Christine.
Excellent advice."
Yes,
yes it could.
Sarek's
hand was back on her knee, again the squeeze. Did he approve or did he want her to
quit talking? They were going to
have to discuss secret signals and their meanings when they got home.
Home. The embassy. Or her apartment. Maybe a shuttle. But definitely
wherever he was. She slipped
her hand under the table and put it over his, squeezed and smiled when he
looked over at her. "This
salad is wonderful."
"Indeed."
"It
is quite good," Spock said, apparently wanting to be agreeable. Although he did seem
to be enjoying it.
But
then she had no idea if that was his norm—if he ate all his salad or left
half of it. She was suddenly very
glad she had no idea.
Sarek
would eat all of his. She knew that
well.
He
moved his hand off her knee and began to talk of things diplomatic. Spock had opinions, and as they talked
the tentativeness of their interaction wore off. She smiled, paying attention this time
instead of drifting off to think about Ops things. Diplomacy was going to be her new life.
God help diplomacy.
##
Chapel
watched Spock walk back to wherever he was staying, then
turned to Sarek. "Well?"
"I
was satisfied by how he took the news, how he interacted with us." He urged her into the flitter, then told it to take them to her apartment.
"It
was awkward as hell at first."
"That
was to be expected. Given your
interest in him at one time. And
his relationship with me, which colored the interaction far more than anything
he thought about you, Christine. I
assure you: it would not have been any easier were you not involved."
"That's
not really a nice thought. I'm
sorry you don't have a better relationship."
"Kaiidth."
"Logical." She leaned against him. "I'm glad I'm with you, not
him."
"As
am I." His lips turned up more
than usual. "I will, however,
verify that your sentiment is true with a meld."
"Go
nuts," she said with a grin.
The
flitter pulled in at her apartment, and she followed him out. He wasted no time getting them upstairs
and her undressed and pressed against the wall as he took her with a bit more
urgency than usual, working very hard to ensure she was happy before he let go.
"Feeling
possessive?" she said as he finished and let her down. "Do you want to pee in the corners
now to mark the place as yours?"
He
let out his huff of amusement. "That
will not be necessary."
"He
frustrates you. Over and above
anything to do with me."
"Yes. He frustrates me. Our relationship frustrates me. I try...and I believe he does, too. But we do not connect in any way that is
not superficial. I thought, after
his mother died, that we were building something stronger. But he went away, and then there was you,
and I did not seek to sustain it."
"But
he went away, so how could you?
What is this pet project?"
"I
do not know. He was on leave, not
on a mission."
"That's
weird." She shook her
head. "And I don't care. He's a big boy and he can make his own
decisions."
Again the huff.
"Amanda used to say that.
It usually meant she was worried."
"Well,
I'm not going to worry. Maybe
Saavik will. Are
they...involved?" She led him
into the bedroom and they undressed the rest of the way and climbed into bed, lounging
against the nest of pillows she'd found he liked as much as she did. "Wasn't she his ward?"
"Not
precisely. Their relationship is
complicated."
"Either
they're involved or they're not.
How complicated can it be?"
She snuggled up against him, and he put his arm around her and drew her
closer.
"Kaiidth," he murmured.
"Fine. I'll leave it alone. But I've never met her and now I'm
curious."
"You
will like her. She is quite
personable."
"She
may not approve of us."
He
kissed her hair. "If Amanda
told Spock to support us, I have no doubt she told Saavik the same thing. She would not leave such a thing to
chance."
"True." She relaxed. "I owe her so much. And you—she took care of you so
well, even not here."
"She
did." He rubbed her arm. "She would want me to try harder
with Spock."
"You
two are like magnets. Try as you
might, you're going to push each other away."
"You
see that. She never did."
"He's
not my son. Makes all the
difference." She turned so she
could kiss him. "Can we stop
talking about Spock now?"
"Most
assuredly." He reached for the
meld points.
"Really? You weren't kidding about that?"
"You
loved him once. I need to
know."
"Rifle
away, only don't blame me for what you get—and stay away from the work
stuff, if you don't mind."
"Soon
your work will be the same as mine.
There will be no need to worry."
"You
know I worry?"
"I
do. I would not intrude on anything
sensitive from Emergency Operations."
She
smiled and kissed him, letting him conduct his big investigatory meld, which
didn't last long because she really wanted him to kiss her and he could no
doubt tell that. He finally did
kiss her, letting the meld go, and she could feel his satisfaction—the
sheer possessiveness he felt for her.
"Told you. You and only
you."
"I
am pleased."
She
pushed him down, began to kiss down his body. "Let's see if we can get you more
than pleased."
He
moaned as she worked, cried out more than was his norm, but she was pulling out
all the stops. When he pulled her
up and kissed her, she said, "Did I get you to happy yet?" She grinned at the slightly dazed
expression he was wearing.
"How about blissful?"
"Yes,"
he said, clearly not trying to put up any resistance to admitting to emotions
and strong ones, and his almost-smile backed him up.
"I
love you," she said, laughing as he eased down her body. "So, so, so much."
Then she couldn't think, much less talk.
He was pulling out all the stops, too. He slid up and watched her come down,
stroking her cheek, his eyes as tender as she'd ever seen them. "I would like us to marry
soon."
"Okay." She felt boneless, closed her eyes and
grinned.
"Christine,
this is important."
She
nodded. "Whenever you
want. I'm game." She opened her eyes. "Do we have to do a big
wedding? We can just slip away,
can't we? Or do it in the embassy?"
"You
do not want a traditional ceremony?"
"God,
no. I only want you."
"You
are a woman of few needs."
"No,
I am a woman of many needs. You
just happen to fill them." She
pulled him down for another kiss.
When
they finally pulled away, he murmured very softly, "I stand
corrected."
FIN