DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters are the property of Paramount Studios, Inc. The story contents are the creation and property of Djinn and is copyright (c) 2000 by Djinn. This story is Rated R.
After the Madness
by Djinn
"Oh yes, the girl.
Most interesting. It must have been the combat. When I thought I had killed the
Captain I found I had lost all interest in T'Pring.
The madness was gone."
It had not been a lie. The
madness was gone. As was any interest he had ever had in T'Pring.
But the desire, the desire had not gone away. He still felt as if his body was
on fire. It was a controlled blaze now instead of an inferno. He must master
this, forced himself to focus on the science station. They were again on their
way to the Altair system. There was work to be done. The danger was over, the Pon Farr would subside.
He concentrated for quite
a while on his readings. All sensors showed normal. His mind wandered back to
the meeting in his quarters when Nurse Chapel—Christine—had come to tell him
that Jim would divert to Vulcan. He saw again her face as the single tear ran
down her cheek. Felt again that tear as he gently wiped it from her skin. He
could still smell her, the femaleness of her. The fire within him at the time
had screamed for T'Pring, yet some part of him had
defied tradition, had found the strength to speak.
"I had the most
startling dream. Your were
trying to tell me something but I couldn't hear you." He remembered moving
toward her. Part of him stalking, seducing her, the other fighting the need to
touch her, to be touched by her.
"It would be
illogical for us to protest against our natures, don't you think?" She had
not understood what he was saying. He did not blame her. How could she
understand the centuries of Vulcan ritual and discipline he had been attempting
to shed. He had not understood, still did not
understand it himself.
He had been intensely
aware of her reactions—her conflict. She wanted him for herself, yet she had
fought that need. "I came to tell you that we are bound for Vulcan. We'll
be there in just a few days."
Vulcan. It had been like
having cold water thrown on him. Desire warred with duty. The plak tow making it doubly difficult to focus on the
traditions he vowed to uphold. Christine was there. She was warm and real and
loved him. But on his home planet waited his bondmate.
A woman he barely knew but one to whom he was linked. In the end he had asked
Christine for soup and she had happily agreed. It was not much, but it allowed
her to care for him, allowed him to have her near. It
had been the most they could hope for at the time.
He remembered later on the
bridge, when T'Pring had appeared on the screen, when
he had explained to the others that she was his "wife." Although he
had given no sign, he had been aware of Christine's reaction to the news. He
could see her shock, the dismay written clearly on her face. She had left the
bridge without a word and there had been no time to explain, and soon he was
leaving for Vulcan and T'Pring.
Since coming back to the Enterprise,
he had only seen Christine those brief moments in sickbay when he had
discovered that Jim was still alive. He again felt the relief that he had not
killed his friend. He was surprised to feel no embarrassment over his emotional
display at the moment he realized that his captain still lived. She had
witnessed his outburst, had smiled in happiness as his life started again. But
then McCoy had dismissed her and Spock had not seen her since.
That was something he should
remedy. He glanced at the chronometer. In three point five six hours he could
do just that.
##
His shift over, Spock
waited for his replacement to arrive. Once she did, he left quickly, finding it
difficult not to snap at her for her nearly imperceptible tardiness. He quickly
made his way to sickbay, sure that Christine would take longer to leave her
post than he had his. She was there. He was disconcerted by the fire that
flared up as he looked at her—the threatening lack of control.
He must control this.
Christine saw him standing
in the doorway. She got up quickly, concern shadowing her face. "Mr.
Spock? Are you alright?"
"I am…alright,"
he found himself at a loss for words and this was not the place to discuss such
things.
"Should I get
McCoy?" Christine began to move toward the doctor's office. His hand on
her arm stopped her, and she looked at him quizzically.
Fire rushed through him as
he touched her. He fought against the desire he felt, the need to pull her to him,
finally dropping his hand so he could be strong. His voice was rough when he
managed to talk. "Could you come to my quarters, Nurse? There is something
I need. Of a personal nature. Could you come now?"
"I can come, Mr.
Spock. But wouldn't it be better if I got Dr. McCoy? He knows what you've been going
through. He'll be able to help you."
"No, you are the
appropriate person to help. Will you come?"
Christine nodded but was clearly
ill at ease with his request. She closed down her terminal and moved to his
side. "Now?"
He nodded and they made
their way silently to his quarters. Once inside, Spock could feel some of his
tension leave him as he relaxed a bit of his control.
He turned to Christine. "How
much do you know of what has happened to me the last few days?"
"Not much, Mr. Spock.
McCoy kept the information to himself. I only knew you were hurting, that
something was very wrong with you."
Spock mused over this.
"Yet you came to my quarters to tell me that we were headed for
Vulcan?"
She looked uncomfortable.
"If this is about using my medical clearance to gain access to your
quarters, then you have my apologies. I only meant to help but it was wrong of
me to enter your room uninvited."
"The cause was
sufficient. I am more interested in knowing why you thought Vulcan would help
me."
"Well, I tried to
help you. And I couldn't. It seemed that nothing on this ship could since you
were so adamant about getting to your home planet. I assumed that there was
something there that would help you. I thought it would ease your mind to know
that we were headed there. To your wife." The last part came out bitterly.
"She is no longer my
wife. You know that?"
"Mr. Spock, I don't
know anything." Agitated, she began to pace the length of his quarters.
"You beam down to that woman and then suddenly McCoy is beaming back up
with a seemingly dead captain. All McCoy would tell me was that Kirk collapsed
and you might be surprised to find him alive. And you certainly were. Then I
was dismissed as if I were a rank yeoman. So, Mr. Spock, I know nothing."
"Spock."
She turned to him,
"What?"
"Just Spock,
Christine. Call me Spock."
She stared at him.
"You confuse me, Mr…um, Spock."
He nodded. "Yes, I
know. Just as my words to you the other day confused you, did they not?"
"Your words?"
He moved toward her.
"I had the most startling dream."
He could tell she
remembered the words. He continued moving toward her. "I had the most
startling dream, Christine."
She backed away from him.
The wall behind her brought her to a stop. He leaned into her. "I had the
most startling dream."
Her breathing was ragged
as she finished the thought, "I was trying to tell you something?"
"Yes, but I could not
hear you."
His hands were on the wall
to either side of her head. He moved closer until his body was pressed against
hers. He buried his nose in her neck and hair, breathed deeply of the scent of
her.
He could feel her
trembling. "If my proximity feels threatening to you, I will move away."
"No. It's okay."
Moving his mouth to her
ear he whispered, "It would be illogical for us to protest against our
natures."
"Our natures?"
"Indeed. Don't you
think?"
Her eyes met his. He was relieved
to see arousal in her expression.
Then suspicion took over. "This
isn't like you, Spock. It's what I've dreamed of for the last few years, but it
isn't like you. I need to call McCoy—this could be the Psi 2000 virus all over
again."
"No, Christine, it is
not the virus. I can explain what has happened. I will do that if you wish. But
stay here with me. Let me make you understand."
She looked undecided. He
backed away and gave her room to run if she needed it, then moved to his couch and
sat, leaving her plenty of space. "Please, Christine, do not call McCoy.
Let me explain?"
He watched as she
struggled with her personal desire and her duty. He stayed immobile, kept his
features calm even though he desperately wanted her to stay. He saw the moment
when desire won. She moved to the couch and sat down next to him.
"Explain," she
said.
Spock took a deep breath
as he chose the words that would explain the Pon
Farr. As he described the plak tow to Christine, he
saw her begin to understand what he had been going through. He took her through
the initial bonding ritual with T'Pring, the long
years between that time and now, years during which he had rarely even spoken
to his intended wife. He described the challenge and T'Pring's
rejection of him due to his notoriety. Told her of waking from the madness to
see his best friend dead at his hands.
"That's why you were
so glad to see him," she murmured. "You thought you'd killed him. Oh God,
Spock. That must have been horrible."
"It was. I have never
experienced such emptiness. Throughout my life I have assumed that my human
side would betray me, but it was my Vulcan nature that proved most dangerous. I
would have killed him, Christine."
"All for her? A woman
you barely knew?"
"When you say it, it
does not sound logical. But the burning is not logical. It is the antithesis of
logic. It is all the primitive things that Vulcan was, all the barbarism we
left behind. The last living remnant of what we might have been, but for
logic."
Christine was quiet as she
took in all he had said. Finally she asked, "Why
am I here?"
"I desire you."
"You said the burning
was over. You said you wouldn't die now."
"I will not die. But
what I said was that the need to mate was gone. The urge to mate
is not. I have long desired you, but there was always T'Pring
in the way. She is no longer an impediment to us. I want you. I tried to tell
you that when you came to me, but I did not fully understand myself."
"You want me?"
She was clearly shocked. "You've spent the last year avoiding me."
"It is not logical,
Christine. We are, after all, talking about feelings."
She got up and began to
pace the room again. "Do you know what I've gone through because of my feelings
for you? Do you have any idea what it's like to be mocked for loving someone you
can never have?"
"I am sorry for
that."
"And the loneliness.
The hoping against hope that you might notice me, just once. The pain when you
didn't. And you expect me to believe that you've desired me all this time? What
kind of idiot do you think I am?"
He could sense her
emotions, her anger. "Christine, I could not be what you wanted. I thought
it better to be nothing to you than something less than you deserve."
"You need sex right
now. That's really all this is. You want me to give you what I've always
offered. Only now you talk about feelings. Why? You could have me without the
pretense."
He stood up and tried to
hold her but she shrugged away. "Christine, you make it sound so cold. I
do feel something for you. It is more than just sex."
She backed away, clearly headed
toward the door. "You're on the rebound, Spock. You're very dangerous
right now. You've been rejected, and your emotions are in turmoil because of
the Pon Farr. Isn't that true?"
He walked to her and put
his hands on her cheeks. "My emotions are somewhat unpredictable, that
much is correct."
She put her hands over
his. "Spock, all I've wanted for so long is you. I thought if I ever heard
you say you want me I'd be the happiest woman in the
universe. But that's not what I'm feeling." She pulled away from him.
"You're sure you're in no danger, that the Pon
Farr won't kill you?"
"I am certain."
"Then I can't do this
now, Spock. I just can't. Because no matter how much I want you, I'll always
believe you came to me under duress."
"I am perfectly aware
of my motivation, Christine."
"I can see you think
you are. If, once the Pon Farr is truly over, you're
still certain you want me, then I hope you'll come to me." Her voice broke
at the end. Tears welled up as she turned to leave.
He moved to comfort her
but she motioned him to stop. "You do not believe I will come to you. Do
you, Christine?"
She looked at him sadly,
tears running freely down her face now. "No, I don't. And I'll hate myself
for this moment for the rest of my life."
With that she turned
suddenly, palming the door open and hurrying out.
Spock stood staring as the
door closed behind her. This had not gone as expected. Yet he could not fault her
actions in this matter. She was right to make him wait. And he would prove her
wrong. He just had to master the emotional chaos he felt until it subsided. He
truly did burn for her, even if the burning would not be fatal.
These things were
imprecise by nature, but he estimated that he had approximately four to five
days before the Pon Farr would be gone and he could
set out to convince Christine to mate with him. There was much to plan, and he
would have started, except that sleep—so long denied—claimed him.
##
Ultimately it was eight
days before Spock felt certain that the Pon Farr had
subsided. During that time, he had carried on with his life, working his shifts
on the bridge, accompanying Jim and McCoy to the ceremonies on Altair VI,
playing chess with the captain or using his free hours to recover from the
effects of the Pon Farr. He had only seen Christine
once. She had been leaving the mess hall with Uhura and Sulu as he and McCoy
had walked in. She had said nothing but her eyes had searched his and had
widened in shock as he had stopped to say, "Good evening, Christine. I
trust you are well?" She had mumbled a response as Sulu and Uhura stared
at the two of them. McCoy had waited for the mess hall doors to close before saying.
"Well, that was different. Something you want to tell me, Spock?" He
moved on, clearly expecting no response.
Jim's voice called Spock
back from the past. "So do you have plans for
this evening? I'm itching for a rematch. You trounced me the last time we
played."
"You were distracted,
Jim. I do not normally beat you that many times in an evening."
"Distracted? I guess
you could call thinking about Ambassador Forvan a
distraction."
Spock let an eyebrow rise
as he replied evenly, "It was a shame she only had to go to Starbase 4-1. I am sure you would have enjoyed having more
time with her."
"And they say Vulcans
aren't romantic."
Spock felt momentarily
concerned. "Who says that?"
"Or that you don't
have a sense of humor. Are we on for chess or not?"
"I believe I have
other plans, Jim. Another time?"
"Other plans, Spock?
That's fascinating. Care to fill me in?"
"Not particularly."
Spock rose as his replacement arrived. He cocked an eyebrow at Jim as he moved
to leave. "If you will excuse me?"
Jim shrugged in defeat,
"Don't let me stand in the way of your other plans."
"I will not."
Another lift of the eyebrow and Spock was in the turbolift
headed for sickbay.
The lift seemed to stop on
every floor. Spock resisted the urge to key in a command override that would
make the lift ignore any other calls. It was a new sensation to be this
impatient. Finally he arrived and barely let the doors
open before he was out and moving. The sickbay doors opened just as he stepped
up to them. He managed to stop before crashing into the person coming out. It
was Christine.
"Mr. Spock! I'm
sorry, I wasn't looking…"
"The fault is mine,
Christine." He felt satisfaction as he observed her surprise and pleasure
at his use of her first name. "Do you remember our last conversation?"
She nodded as her face
became a controlled mask. Her eyes gave nothing away, neither hope nor fear. Practically
Vulcan with how little she was giving away. He decided he did not like the look
on her.
"The...problem that I
was having. It is over. You remember we discussed it?"
"I remember,
Spock."
"Yes, I imagine you
do. There were issues that you decreed on hold until this moment. I would like
to explore them. If you would? I thought we could start over dinner tonight."
Her expression changed—happy
but startled. "Issues, explore tonight, over
dinner?"
He gave her a miniscule
half-smile as he raised an eyebrow. "Was what I said not clear? I can
rephrase it."
She gave him a small smile
back. "No, it was clear. I'm just surprised."
"I have been given to
understand that a surprise can be a good thing in a relationship. Do you
agree?"
She laughed. "I guess
it depends on whether it's a good surprise or a bad one."
"That is logical.
Perhaps we could discuss the distinction while we eat?"
The smile she gave him lit
up her face. "I think we could do that, Spock."
"Then shall we
go?"
"We shall." She
laughed again. A sound that he was coming to treasure.
As they made their way to
the mess hall, Spock asked Christine if she had any preference from the
replicator.
"I don't really care,
Spock. Just make sure it's vegetarian."
"You do not have to
follow my customs if you do not wish."
She turned to look at him.
"But I'm not. Following your customs I
mean. My parents were vegetarian. It's the only custom I've really ever
known."
He studied her for a
moment. "I did not know that, Christine."
She laughed, somewhat
sardonically. "I imagine there are quite a few things you don't know about
me, Spock."
"That much is certain.
And many things, I believe, that you don't know about me."
"No, you're right. I
don't know much about you."
As they approached the
mess hall door, Spock held Christine's gaze with his own. "I look forward
to the discovery."
She met his eyes for a
second before looking away. Her voice was nearly a whisper, but he heard it
clearly. "As do I, Spock."
They went together to the
replicator. Spock ordered food and beverages for both of them, carrying
everything on a tray to a small table against the wall. He was aware that this
caused several members of the crew to stare at the unaccustomed sight of the
two of them together. He could tell that Christine had not missed the looks
they were drawing.
"If you'd be more
comfortable, we could eat somewhere else," she said softly.
"There is no logic in
leaving, Christine. They will stop reacting to this eventually."
"And in the
meantime?" she asked, eyeing a particularly interested pair of young
ensigns.
"In the meantime, we
ignore them."
"Spock, I think
you'll have an easier time of it than I will."
"Probably. But not
because I am Vulcan. I have been waiting eight point three days to see you,
Christine. Now that we are here together, I intend to focus on you."
She stared, seemed slightly
stunned. "Well... Put that way, how could I do any less?"
"Precisely,
Christine. The crew and their reactions to us are irrelevant." They ate
for a bit, then the doors opened and Jim and McCoy walked in. The doctor was
the first to see the two of them.
"Didn't save us a seat,
I see," he said with a grin as he walked up to their table. "We could
always pull another table up."
"I believe that is
against regulations, Doctor," Spock replied. "Section 436.1a of the
operating guidelines for mess facility in galaxy class vessels."
"There's no such
regulation." Jim laughed as he walked up with the food. "But we can
tell when we're not wanted. Carry on you two. Come on, Bones, let's find
another table."
Spock sighed more audibly
than he intended. When Christine looked at him questioningly, he shook his
head. "I did not intend to spend our time together discussing the crew or
quoting regulations."
"Making up
regulations, you mean, Spock?"
"I am sure they meant
it to be included in the operating manual." He saw that she was finished
with her food. "This location is not conducive to private discussion,
Christine. Would you care to come back to my cabin?"
"To talk?"
"Yes. I do not want
further interruptions. There are no other places sufficiently private. Except
for your quarters, if you would be more comfortable there?"
"Your place or mine,
Spock?" She chuckled. "Not very original."
When he gave her a
quizzical look she shrugged, "Never mind. Your quarters will be
fine."
They put their dishes in
the recycler and left the mess hall, and he studiously ignored Jim and McCoy,
who were watching them with no pretense of disinterest.
As they waited for a turbolift. Christine said softly, "I'll meet you at
your quarters in a few minutes. If we're going to talk for a while, I'd like it
to be in something more relaxed than this uniform."
Spock nodded. "That
is not very original either is it?" As she looked at him startled, he
continued, "Terran vids are rife with people changing into something more
comfortable."
She laughed at him, "Terran
vids? You? Spock, you're full of surprises."
"And we have still
not discussed the nature of surprise, both good and bad."
"When I get
back," she said. The turbolift arrived and they
stepped inside. "And while you're waiting, why don't you find something
else to wear as well."
"As you wish,"
he said as the doors opened on her deck and she exited. "I will expect you
shortly."
She turned back as the
doors started to close. "I'll be there soon."
##
After changing into one of
his Vulcan robes, Spock inspected his quarters, which were immaculate as usual.
He moved around the rooms, lighting firepots and candles, dimming the normal
illumination. When he had achieved a level similar to what he would use for
meditation, he took a last look around the room.
Then waited. How long did
it take to change clothes? He remembered his father muttering the same thing
more than once about his mother.
Several minutes later the
door chime rang. "Come."
Christine came in and Spock
studied her curiously. She had changed into black pants and a dark red shirt,
both in a soft fabric that draped around her tall frame. Flat sandals replaced
boots. Her hair was loose around her face. It had grown quite long and fell in
waves past her shoulders. The graceful austere look suited her far more than
the abbreviated uniform and elaborate hairstyles she usually wore.
Christine smiled as she
looked down. "This is the real me, in case you were wondering?"
"I was curious."
"I hate my uniform. I
don't know why they don't go to the same uniform for all of us. It is past time
to abandon those skirts. They're impractical—for most of my duties
anyway." She glanced at Spock apologetically. "I'm sorry, Spock. It's
one of my pet peeves, I guess."
"No need to
apologize. I quite agree with you. I predict that eventually Starfleet will go
to the same uniform for all sexes."
"Hopefully sooner,
rather than later," she smiled as she sat on the couch, curled her legs up
under herself.
"It will happen when
it happens," Spock sat next to her.
"Only if they let
some females on the next uniform design panel." She made a face much like one his mother made
when she was unhappy with behavior.
"Logical. And
emotional at the same time. You are deeply passionate about the things you care
for, I think."
She blushed. "I am.
It's one of my failings."
"And one of your
great charms. You have loyalty to your passions as well as your pet peeves?"
His expression was intense as he waited for her reply.
"Are we still talking
about the uniforms, Spock?"
"No, Christine. We
are not."
"Vulcans aren't real big on small talk, I guess?"
"Talking around the
subject is illogical. Why should we not discuss things that hold a deep
interest for us?" He leaned toward her. "Unless I am overestimating
the level of your interest?"
"You know you're not,
Spock." She mock scowled at him. "What was your question?"
"My question, which
was not exactly what I asked as you well know, is 'Are you still emotionally
attracted to me?' You once indicated that you found me an attractive potential
mate."
She corrected him gently,
"I said I was in love with you, Spock. Slightly more significant."
"I did not want to
overstate the case. Are you still?"
"In love with
you?" She met his eyes and did not look away. "Yes."
He moved down the couch to
be closer to her. Touching her hair, he moved his hands through the silky waves
and she closed her eyes as he brushed a stray strand off her face. "I am
relieved to hear that, Christine."
Her voice was low as she
replied, "How could you doubt it?"
He moved to her face,
tracing the lines of her cheekbones, her forehead, her throat. He felt a surge
of deep satisfaction when she moaned as he brushed his fingers over her lips.
"Your love for me has caused you pain. It has not been easy for you. I
cannot tell you how much I regret that."
He leaned into her, found
her lips with his own in a gentle kiss. Then he kissed along the path his
fingers had travelled. "I did see
what was happening. I did not know what to do. I could not give you what you
wanted in any honorable way. T'Pring was always
there. But I did not want her, Christine. I wanted you."
He shivered as Christine
began to let her own hands roam over his face. Her fingers seemed to go
unerringly to the tips of his ears. Her released a low moan as she caressed
him. "The Pon Farr is over. But still I burn for thee, Christine. I want so much from
you."
Her lips found his as his
hands roamed her body. He could not get enough of her. Her scent, not perfume
just her, was making him hungrier to touch her, to have her. He moved under her
shirt, felt her cool skin against his fingers.
"Christine," his
voice was a harsh whisper. "I want so much. Perhaps it is too much. Too
soon. Perhaps you should go for tonight?"
She pulled away from him
roughly and grabbed his face with her hands, kissing him fiercely. "Not on
your life, Mister. This is our time. I want you too, Spock. So much."
He pulled her to him, his
restraint crumbling—and he found he did not care. "Christine. Mine. My
Christine."
He stood up. Pulled her up
roughly into another embrace. She matched his passion measure for measure. She
was strong, he realized as she bit his lip lightly. And utterly unafraid of
this.
He pulled her to the bed,
refusing to relinquish her mouth as they moved. When he felt the bed against
his legs, he pulled her back with him onto the soft coverlet. They removed
clothing in an almost frenzied way until there was nothing between them.
Spock looked at her—the woman
he had chosen, not one who had been selected for him—and found her magnificent.
She pulled him down to
her, back into a close embrace. He heard her gasp as he entered her. It was as
if his whole world was contained in her body. His fingers moved instinctively
to her face. Realizing his intent to meld with her, Spock stopped uncertainly
then felt her pull his finger down the rest of the way.
"Do it, Spock. Please."
His eyes not leaving hers,
his body continuing to move within her, he initiated the meld.
Christine, t'hy'la.
He was everywhere with her
and she was with him. He could feel her love and her deep passion for him. He
opened his own barriers, let her feel how much she meant to him. How he
treasured her.
I had no idea.
I could not tell you.
She hugged him tighter and
pulled him deeper inside her. He felt the pleasure of his body, the deep
satisfaction of the meld, and wanted more. He took them deeper.
He felt her delight, her
emotion, her love. He felt her pleasure as his movements sent her over the
edge. Watched her face as she moaned. She reached to him, pulled him even
closer, moved against him.
He soon followed, and they
lay close, touching gently, until gently gave way to firmer motions.
It was a very long time
before they fell asleep, minds and bodies curled around each other in the
flickering candlelight.
FIN