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) 2009 by Djinn. This
story is Rated R.
Fever Dreams
by Djinn
Chapel
felt a cold-cloth on her forehead, thought she heard Spock talking to her through
the haze of pain and fever. His voice
was low, gentle. He was trying to get
her to lie still.
"I
love you," she said, but the words came out as a guttural mix.
"Lie
still," Spock said.
Where
was she? She'd been with Spock. On Vulcan. The Pon
Farr. Was she still there?
You are not what I want. You will never be what I want.
Who
had said that? Someone had said that to
her. Spock...Spock would know. She reached out for him, and pain flared
along her ribs, down her arm, into her neck, making her head throb. She felt as if her skin was on fire, then a
different pain, as if someone had hit her.
"Lie still, Christine."
"Vulcan?"
she managed to get out, the word coming out broken. But as soon as she asked, she could feel the
slight pulse of an engine, the familiar feel of a ship.
"We
are no longer on Vulcan. We are on a
shuttle."
Someone
took the cold-cloth away. She heard the
sound of a new one being opened, felt it being laid on her forehead. "There," Spock said. "There."
Spock
was taking care of her?
Why
did that feel...wrong?
Whatever I felt was of the moment, of
the burning, some remnant of the effects of V'ger. You are nothing to me.
"Nothing
to you."
"Christine,
hush."
"No. You said it."
Then
the memory was blurred by the burning in her head, the wrenching ache in her
hips and back, and the horrible, sinking hole in her gut.
"What
happened to me?"
"If
you do not remember, that is for the best." Spock sounded off. Guilty somehow.
Had
she been hurt during the Pon Farr? Had he hurt her?
But no. She
remembered parts of it, memories flitting in between the pain like little
birds.
You are beautiful, Christine.
I want you, Christine.
You are mine, Christine.
She
had been happy. Tired. Sore. But mobile. Walking slowly perhaps.
Dazed a bit, sated definitely. And happy.
Until...
This was satisfactory at best.
"Oh."
"Christine. You must try to relax."
It is time for you to go.
"Oh."
Surely you do not mean to hold me to
anything I may have said? I would have told
you anything during the burning to get inside you. There can never be anything lasting between
us.
But you said you loved me.
I lied.
She
blacked out before she could remember any more.
-----------
She
woke to sickbay, the cold antiseptic smell a blessed relief after...
After what?
She
had been on Vulcan. With
Spock. The Pon Farr. She
had helped him. It had been good. Sweet.
And then...what?
"You
are awake." Spock's
voice. Concerned
for her. Low and soft the way
he'd spoken to her during the burning.
He'd
told her he loved her. Finally, he'd
told her that.
She
turned to look at him, felt lingering pain in her neck, in the muscles that
stretched across her shoulders.
What
happened? She tried to mentally navigate
from the rooms on Vulcan where Spock had made love to her to this moment. The pain in her shoulders she could blame on
the Pon Farr, on Spock having been too rough.
Only,
she didn't remember him being too rough.
He'd been careful not to be.
And
why did she have the shiny look of just healed skin all over her arms, the itch
of regenerated dermal tissue running up and down her legs.
"Why
can't I remember anything?"
"You
remember nothing? Do you know who I
am?"
"Of
course I know who you are." She
could feel herself blushing. Deeply. Spock knew
who she was now, too. Knew her intimately: her needs, her desires, all out for him to
see.
And
his needs were out for her to learn.
Their tastes had been surprisingly complementary.
And
then... And then
what?
"Why
can't I remember anything after we made love?" She kept her voice at a whisper, did not want
Len or anyone else to overhear her.
"You
remember our time on Vulcan?"
She
nodded. Tensed for pain but found only
the lingering ache of a headache finally past.
When
had she had a headache?
"We
were happy there." He sounded
strange, off.
He
sounded like he was hiding something.
"What
have you done?"
"You
must get better. We will speak of this
again when you are well."
He
rose and she grabbed him, could tell she was surprising him with the resolve of
her grip even if it took all her strength to hold him.
"What
happened? Did you take my
memories?"
He
leaned down, his lips close to her ear, almost
nuzzling her as he spoke. "Your
memories are not gone. You just cannot
find them at the moment. I will help you
recover them, but first you must get well."
"But
you took them? You hid them?"
He
pulled away from her as he nodded. He
would not meet her eyes.
"Why
would you do that?"
"If
you had your memories, you would know why." He surprised her, moving over her, lips
touching down for the softest of kisses.
"My Christine," he murmured, and something in his voice
sounded broken. "Sleep. Please?"
His
eyes were haunted when he pulled away; he did not even seem to care who might
have seen him kiss her. Something was
wrong. Something was very, very wrong.
But he was here. He had called her his
Christine. He had kissed her.
She
smiled at him as gently as she could and closed her eyes. He stood over her for a moment, then she heard him leave.
Sleep
did not come quickly, but it finally came.
She
did not find her memories in her dreams.
--------
Len
was puttering around the vicinity of her bed when she woke. He was pretending to be working, but she
could tell he was really just watching her.
"Something
wrong?" she asked, relieved that her voice sounded less like a croak than
it had before.
"Just
glad to see you doing better."
He came and sat down in the chair Spock had been in. "You've had a pretty constant visitor
since you were brought in." He met her
eyes, and his were hard. "You want
to tell your Uncle Len why old Spock is suddenly so solicitous?"
She
shrugged, found the pain was mostly all gone.
"Come
on, Christine. Truth,
now." He leaned in, seemed
to be studying her face, the skin, the bones, the medical aspect of how she
looked. "I don't mind telling you
that you were in terrible shape when you got here. What happened?"
"I
wish I knew." The words were out
before she could stop them.
"Amnesia?" He frowned, scanned her, and then frowned
more deeply. "How much can't you
remember?"
"What
happened. Why
I'm here."
"But
you remember having one hell of a good time with our Vulcan friend?" Len's eyes were hard again. "The meld with V'ger kick off the Pon
Farr?"
There
was no point in trying to evade. There
would have been ample physical evidence for Len to find of what she and Spock
had been up to. "Possibly. Or it could have been leaving the Kolinahr
ritual so abruptly. Spock wasn't
sure."
"And
you were just ready to run into his arms."
"I'm
sorry you don't approve." She
looked away, could feel a pain, almost an ache, somewhere in her stomach. "He's been kind to me. You said so yourself."
"Yeah. Well, the question to ask yourself
is why." He stood.
"It's
not very flattering that you automatically rule out that he might be interested
in me."
Len
turned to look at her. "No, it's
not, is it?" He stared at her a
long time, then shook his head and walked away.
--------------------
She
walked to her quarters, reveling in finally being out of sickbay. Len had cleared her for light duty, which
meant he'd hover tomorrow and tell her to sit down a lot while she tried to
work.
She
caught up on her comms for a while, then sat back and
enjoyed the peacefulness of her quarters.
The door chime made her jump.
"Come."
Spock
almost smiled at her as he walked in. He
was so different than the man she'd known.
The meld with V'ger, almost purging his
emotions, they both seemed to have affected him deeply.
He
sat on the bed. His look was gentle.
"I'm
free of sickbay. Len sprung me."
"So
he indicated when I went to visit you."
He frowned. "He was his
usual self."
"Sorry
about that. I don't think he gets why
you're hanging around me." Then
again, she wasn't entirely sure she got it, even if she'd like to think it was
her scintillating company.
"He
disapproves of my interest in you?"
"I
think he just questions the reason for that interest." She looked down.
"The
emotions dredged out of me by V'ger and the Pon Farr might have been motivators, but you are the
reason." He did not sound entirely
sincere, only she couldn't pin down what made her think that.
She
got up and walked over to him, unsure what he might do, hoping he would reach
out for her and make her stop wondering why he was here. Instead he just stared up at her, his
expression impossible to read.
"You're
confusing me."
"I
have no doubt of that."
"Did
you come here to give me my memories back?"
"No." He stood up, took her hand for a moment. "I came here because I am hungry and as
you are no longer on the sickbay regimen, I would like you to join me for
dinner."
"In
the mess?"
"That
is where I normally eat." Again the
almost smile. "Unless
you have objections to being seen with me?"
"I
think it's the other way around."
He
pulled her close, moved very slowly as if he thought she might try to stop him. His lips touched down on hers, his mouth opened
as he kissed her, and her mouth followed suit.
He wrapped his arms around her and she ground into him slightly and
heard him moan.
It
felt good, being like this. It
felt...right.
She
pulled away slowly, and he stroked her hair and sighed softly.
"What
is it?" she asked.
"Nothing. Shall we go?"
"Yes. We should."
He
didn't take her arm, didn't touch her in any way on the walk to the mess or
while they were eating. But something in
his eyes, in the way he spoke low and soft, told her things had changed between
them.
Or
maybe just changed for him.
It wasn't as if she'd ever stopped loving him, hopeless as it had always
seemed.
He
walked her back to her quarters, followed her inside when she invited him in,
slowly undressed her and let her do the same to him.
"Are
you going to make love to me?" She
blushed when she asked it. And then her
stomach lurched again, and she felt suddenly stupid. Vulnerable. "I mean--"
He
kissed her before she could try to finish that thought. Kissed her and pushed her back onto the
bed. And did, in fact, make love to her.
Gently. Lovingly. And for a good part of the
night before they finally fell asleep in each other's arms.
----------------
She
woke to find him studying her and smiled.
"Good morning."
"Good
morning." He sighed, as if he was
letting go of a great burden. "V'ger affected me deeply."
"I
know." She reached down, under the
covers, found the evidence of just how much.
He
let his head fall back, let her touch and kiss and suck. When she was done, when his toes had uncurled
and he had let go of her hair, she slid back up his body. "Is V'ger
still affecting you?"
"No. You are."
"I
like that answer. Very
much." She could feel her
smile widen, then felt a strange panic spreading. Stupid. It was stupid to be this happy.
But
no. It wasn't.
She was happy. He was happy. They were happy together.
She
smiled as he pushed her to her back, paid her back in kind. Kissing. Licking. Sucking. Until she came and found
herself crying.
"Are
you all right?"
She
looked away, feeling vulnerable, hating that happiness
could equal weakness. "I'm
sorry. It's just so good."
He
kissed her. "I understand
that. It feels good, yet it is so deeply
felt that it threatens to rip everything that matters from you."
She
turned to look at him, smiled a little, a smile that was also part frown. "I'm not sure that's what I meant."
"It
is what I mean. It is what I felt. During the burning, I mean. Not just now." He kissed her deeply. "Now I welcome the feeling."
"Now
you welcome?" She pushed him back
so she could see his expression. "Now but not before?"
"It
was too much." He was whispering,
as if he could not bear to tell her whatever it was he needed to tell her. "It was too much, Christine."
"What
was too much?" She thought back to
the burning, to the sex. I love you, he
had said. I love you, Christine.
And
then...what?
"Spock. What happened?"
He
eased away from her, slipped out of bed, and began to dress. "Tonight. I will tell you tonight. I must go." He came back to the bed, pulled her up to
him, gripping her almost savagely, kissing her in the same way. "You are mine. Never forget that."
"I
have always wanted to be."
It
was not the right answer, but she didn't know why. He let go of her so abruptly she fell back
onto the bed.
"What?"
"I...I
will tell you later." And then he
left so fast it was as if he was fleeing.
She
did not move for a few moments, then she got up, pulled
on a robe, and sat down at her terminal.
She called up the injury reports Len had filed when she came in.
She
had been burned. She had been
beaten. And there was not one piece of
evidence to show who had done it. Not one single point of impact for the blows,
no sign of what could have burned her.
It was as if she had done it to herself.
"What
the hell happened to me?" And why
hadn't she looked this up before?
Len
had not logged in anything about her having had sex with Spock. Not surprisingly, neither had Spock, when he'd
filed the incident report.
"Doctor
Chapel and I were near the transit station on Falstahvia
as we waited for our shuttle to Starbase Ten. We were accosted by a man with a weapon and
forced into an alley. Before I could react,
he fired upon me, leaving me paralyzed but not unconscious. The man said he fed off strong, negative emotion. He could not read Vulcans, but he indicated
that humans were a preferred source of sustenance. A by-product of this feeding was wounds that
mirrored the negative emotion he was ingesting.
Doctor Chapel's injuries were a result of that feeding. I have included a rendering of the man. His abilities are similar to those of the
creature referred to in the Maltoshan system as a
Pain Feeder, but I cannot confirm that the man was one of these, and he did not
share personal information during the attack."
Chapel
looked at the drawing Spock had worked with the computer to come up with. Other than a faint feeling in her gut, this
man who had apparently tortured her was completely unfamiliar.
Spock
had not been able to help her. They had
just come from the Pon Farr, the sharing and the love
and the connection. He'd been
overwhelmed by that connection, perhaps distracted by it. And then he'd been struck down, left helpless. He'd had to watch her suffer, incapable of coming
to her aid.
No
wonder he felt guilty. He shouldn't
blame himself, though.
She
would tell him that tonight.
----------------------
He
came to her after his shift ended, seemed ill at ease as he locked the door and
took her in his arms.
"Spock,
this isn't your fault. What happened to me. I read your
report. You couldn't have done
anything." She snuggled in against
him, sighed as he ran his hands over her.
It felt so good to be together like this.
"When
I...rearranged your memories, you were deep in a feverish and pain-filled
state. I will need to take you into an
analogous condition, into a state where you are deeply engaged." He began to take her clothes off. "I will not hurt you. But I will take you very deep into a
meld."
"I
trust you."
She
saw him swallow hard.
"Spock. I trust you."
"Now. You trust me now, Christine, but everything
is about to change." He touched her
face, his look so gentle she had to touch back, had to pull him to her, to kiss
him.
"I
know one thing that won't change. I love
you."
"Please
try to remember that." He eased her
toward the bed. "Remember that I
did not pull away this time. That I
don't have to do this--I could have taken your memories away forever. Remember all that."
A
frisson of something that felt like fear went through her. Her gut clenched, pain she couldn't identify
rising up inside her, filling her chest, making it difficult to swallow.
"Shhh.
Not yet, Christine. You must
relax. You must trust me."
She
settled onto the bed, held her hand out to him.
"I do. I do."
But
deep down...she didn't. Some part of her
was telling her to get up, to get dressed.
To run like hell.
"This
is necessary." His voice was hard,
but she didn't think the hardness was directed at her. "There is no other right way to do
this."
He
melded with her, and she remembered him doing this during the Pon Farr. As he
moved into her mind, he also moved into her body, thrusting gently, easing his
hand between them to make her feel more and more and more until she came,
crying out, clutching him.
She
could feel him, could feel his emotions.
His love.
His
fear. Spock was afraid?
"We
don't have to do this," she said.
"Yes. Yes, I fear we do."
He
feared. He hurt. He felt...guilty. Guilt was flooding her from him. Shame. Anger.
"Spock?"
He
pushed her deeper into the meld, pushed her harder physically. She came again. And again. She felt as if she was drowning, could tell
when he came, too, but couldn't do anything to help or stop him.
"I
love you."
And
he loved her. She could feel it as he
drove her deeper. As
she fell into her memories. The end of the Pon Farr. How he'd murmured to her, sweet Vulcan
nothings. She'd felt as if she could
float away on the feelings he was causing.
They
had lain quietly, then. The burning done, the meld pulsing between them, easing away as
they had relaxed. She could feel
part of him drawing away, closing down.
"Spock?" Her voice had been hoarse.
He'd
pulled away, rolled over.
"Spock?" She followed him, nestled against his back, and
wrapped her arm around his waist.
"Are you all right?"
She
felt the meld die, and cried out as it ended.
He moaned, too, even though she knew he was controlling it, had snapped
it rather than let it just ebb away gently.
"Why?"
He
pushed her arm from him. "Must you
cling?"
She
scooted back, her legs tangling with the sheets, a pain starting in her gut,
working its way to her chest. She could
feel her throat closing up, tried to swallow and barely made it. She knew this pain. Humiliation. Again. "I'm sorry. It's just been so nice."
"You
are fortunate, then. The Pon Farr is not always nice." He made nice sound bad. Made it sound trite and
human and typically her.
"Spock,
you made it nice. For
me. You were so sweet." Sweet sounded stupid, too. Sweet sounded pastel and childish and not at
all what he was. "I'm not sorry I
did this, Spock. You said I might be,
but I'm not."
"Then
again you are fortunate. To have no
regrets would be an admirable state."
"You
have regrets?"
"They
are of no consequence." His tone
was cold, and he stayed with his back resolutely to her. She felt as if she was talking to a wall.
A
wall she'd just spent the last three days having nonstop sex with--only she'd
been stupid enough to think they'd been making love.
"I
know part of what you were feeling was because of V'ger. But it didn't feel fake, Spock."
He
turned, studied her as if she was a particularly unwelcome bacteria. "You are not what I want. You will never be what I want."
Pain
rose again, and she was glad they hadn't eaten anything since she probably would
have thrown it up. "That's not what
you said--and I know that's not what you felt.
I was in the meld, remember? I
was in there, too." God help
her. She sounded like a lovesick girl or
a petulant child. Was
so. Was so.
"Whatever
I felt was of the moment, of the burning, some remnant of the effects of V'ger. You are
nothing to me." His words were like
fists, each one hitting a little deeper, a little harder.
He
got out of bed and headed to the bathroom.
She heard the sound of the shower running, realized she probably smelled
awful. This damn
planet with its blast-furnace heat and thin air. She felt as if she was the one who was
burning.
Or
maybe that was just the shame. That
she'd actually thought he cared.
She
didn't know how long he normally spent in the shower, but it seemed as though
he was in there for a long time.
Probably scrubbing any trace of her off with a wire brush.
He
came out and she passed him, not speaking, not looking at him. She showered and spent a long time in there
as well. The water hid the sound of her
crying.
-------------
Dimly,
somewhere at the edge of her mind, Chapel could feel Spock hovering.
"I
am sorry," he murmured.
The
pain in her stomach welled up and she knew what it was. The only remnant he hadn't been able to
suppress. The
warning. Don't fall for him. Don't love him. Don't let him in.
She'd
failed to heed that warning. She'd let
him in again.
And
now...what?
"We
are not done," Spock whispered, in her mind, in her ear, she wasn't
sure. Where his fingers touched down on
her face, she burned.
She
wasn't sure if he meant they weren't done with the memories or they weren't
done with each other. And now, it didn't
matter. "Finish it. And get out."
He
didn't answer, but she could feel him pushing her again, moving around in her
memories. She saw them board the shuttle for Falstahvia,
the best connection--since Spock was in a sudden hurry to get back to the
ship--for the rendezvous point at Starbase Ten.
Pain
filled her. He walked ahead of her. Not caring how much she hurt. Not caring that he'd hurt her. Not caring about her in any way at all.
She
meant nothing to him. He had not been
overstating that.
On
the shuttle, she dropped into a seat far from the one he took, tried not to cry
on the ride, knew he'd hate that--hate her for doing that.
Although
he appeared to hate her for doing nothing more than helping him. And believing him when he'd said he cared
about her.
Their
shuttle to Starbase Ten was delayed, and she wasted
no time in heading out of the terminal, to the quaint little shopping area
designed to make weary travelers part with their credits.
Spock
came up behind her. "I want to
ensure we understand each other."
She
didn't turn around. "Oh, believe
me, we understand each other."
He
grabbed her arm, pulled her into an alley.
"I was not as clear as I might have been. I appreciate what you have done for me, but
this was satisfactory at best. And it
will create problems for us--for you. It
is time for you to go."
"Go? Go where?
Our shuttle isn't here."
"You
misunderstand. It is time for you to
transfer off the ship. It was Decker's
choice to make you part of this crew, not Jim's. He has been gracious, but you would serve us
all best by leaving."
She'd
thought the pain couldn't get any worse.
She'd thought she'd managed to toughen up on the ride from Vulcan, bury
the need to cry somewhere deep inside.
But the thought that Kirk might feel stuck with her, might really want
her off his ship and his crew, nearly leveled
her. She was a good doctor. She knew she was. Len liked having her around.
She
turned away from Spock, clutched at the wall of the building, felt the rough surface graze her skin. "Why are you being like this? You said--"
"Surely
you do not mean to hold me to anything I may have said? I would have told you anything during the
burning to get inside you. There can
never be anything lasting between us."
"But
you said you loved me."
"I
lied." He turned to go, but a man
stepped into the alley. A man with a
weapon trained on Spock. He fired and
Spock went down, eyes open but clearly unable to move or speak.
"What
have we here?" The man advanced on
her. "You're broadcasting. It's intoxicating. So much pain."
"Get
away from me." She kept her eye on
the weapon, but he put it in a holster that sealed over it. She glanced at Spock, hating herself for
doing it, for thinking even yet that he'd help her.
"Oh,
don't think he'll save you, dearest.
He's down for the count. But he's
watching, which is only fair, since it's he who caused you so much pain."
He
slammed her head back against the wall, and she felt his fingers seem to invade
her mind. He moaned, like a man having
sex, and pressed against her as she buckled.
"Oh, yes, yes."
She
could see over his shoulder. Could see Spock watching her. His eyes full of fear. For her?
The
man let her go and she slid down the wall, her legs unable to support her. "There.
There you go. So
good." He smiled sweetly.
Then
the burning started, on her face, where Spock had melded, on her breasts where
his lips had lingered, lower where he had kissed and sucked and thrust.
Fire. She was on fire. It spread everywhere. And as it did, she felt the first blow,
thought the man had hit her and realized he was standing near Spock, had raised
Spock up so he could watch.
"See,
it's like this, friend. My feeding has a
secondary effect. All the dark emotion
she feels is written in that body--I just bring it to life. A poison of sorts I leave behind."
Chapel
felt as if someone had kicked her in the ribs, seemed to feel bone give as
another kick landed.
"And
the thing is, if she'd been happy, I'd have chosen someone else. Not a damn thing I can do with
happiness." He touched Spock's
forehead. "I hate Vulcans. I'd love to know what you're feeling right
now. Seeing as how this is all your fault."
He
let Spock drop and stood. "Thank
you for a lovely meal, my dear. That
will hold me for quite some time. For
what it's worth, I don't think you'll survive this. Which may in fact be a
blessing, given how much you're hurting." He made a mocking little bow and walked back
out the alley as if nothing had happened.
The fire blazed on the outside. The
blows rained down. And Chapel finally
passed out from pain before Spock's paralysis could wear off.
-----------------
Spock
let go of the meld points.
"Christine?"
"Get
out." She could still feel the
fire, touched the still-shiny skin on her arm, understood
the itch on her legs.
"No."
"No?" She turned and tried to hit him but he caught
her up, pulled her close, too close for her to kick or punch.
Not
too close to bite, though. And she would
have, but he seemed to read it in the dying meld, wrestled her to her side, lay
pressed against her back, one arm around her neck, the other holding her arms
tight, his leg keeping her from kicking.
"Get
out." The words came out as sobs.
"Christine,
I had a logical reason for taking your pain away. In the time that it took me to regain control
of my limbs, to call for medical attention to you, to board the medevac shuttle, your pain only increased and your physical
manifestation of that pain grew worse.
That is what he meant by not surviving.
I took the memories so that there would be nothing feeding whatever was
left of the man's poison."
She
lay still, exhausted by the memories, by the pain, by her anger and hurt.
"I
am not sure that the poison is gone. You
have been happy, so it has had nothing to work on. I must stay.
I must ensure you do not suffer again."
The
restored memories battered at her. They
replayed over and over, and her stomach clenched harder, and she felt as if she
might vomit. "Take the memories
away. I want to be happy
again." She felt him ease up on his
death grip. "Please?"
"You
don't mean that. You wouldn't want to
live a lie. I know that much about
you." He nuzzled her neck and she
tried to pull away. "I could have,
though. I could have taken everything
away. Left only good
memories of the Pon Farr. Or no memories at all. But I did not." He sighed.
"In my Kolinahr studies, I learned such acts are trespass."
She
didn't answer, just lay still, and he let go of her neck, moved his other hand
so it was lying on rather than gripping her arm. He kept his leg around her but let her move
more.
"I
loved you."
"I
know."
"And
you cared for me. I felt things in the
meld during the Pon Farr."
"Yes,
you did. But I told you, I felt as if the
emotion was eating away at me. The
Vulcan I was, the man who was prepared to throw all emotion away at Gol and then had been blasted by emotion in the meld with V'ger, was the last man who should have been with you, who
should have let you in and reached out.
I...overreacted. I panicked at
the emotions I felt."
"You
were cruel."
"Vulcans
are masters of cruelty. Logic has not
destroyed that capacity."
"I
hate you."
He
seemed to be reading her, through the touch of her skin on his, through his
lips that lay on the nape of her neck.
"I know you do."
He
stayed with her all night, and she pretended to sleep. He finally left her just before their shift started,
when she did not manifest any more injuries.
"You
must tell me if the pain comes back."
She
nodded. She murmured,
"Yes." And when he was gone,
she sank to her knees by the door and cried for the Christine who'd been hurt,
and even more for the one who'd been so happy.
She was some hardened hybrid of them now. Not hurt, not happy.
And certainly not ever going to call Spock for help.
------------------------
She
saw Kirk talking to Len, waited for him at the entrance to sickbay. "Got a minute?"
He
smiled when he saw her. "For you, I
might even have five. Ten if you're
lucky." He motioned for her to walk
with him. "I need coffee."
"Don't
you have a yeoman for that anymore?"
"No. And unless I want Rand to transport it to me,
she's pretty much out of the coffee service business."
"Which is as it should be."
He
grinned. "Indeed it is." He led her to the mess, poured them both
coffees, then handed her a cup and watched what she put it in. "Have a little coffee with your sugared
milk."
She
stuck her tongue out at him, then realized that was
not the best example of how to treat the captain. "Sorry, sir."
He
ignored her and led them to a table.
"So what's on your mind?"
She
stirred her coffee, not meeting his eyes as she said, "I know you didn't
pick me. Decker did and since he went,
well, spiritually AWOL, you've been sort of saddled with me. And I'm wondering: do you wish I weren't
here?" She looked up to find him
staring at her with a perplexed look.
"Why
would I wish you weren't here?"
"It's
not fair answering a question with a question."
He
seemed about to answer when Spock walked in.
She looked down, but not fast enough to avoid catching his eye. She could feel herself blush, saw Kirk frown
as he watched Spock get whatever he was getting and leave.
"Okay,
what is going on with you two?"
"It's
especially unfair to ask me that question in answer to mine."
"He's
acting really weird today. And so are
you." When she didn't answer, he
sighed. "Okay, yes, I have been
saddled--as you so nicely put it--with some of Decker's people. They hate me; they hate that I took the ship
from their captain. They aren't settling
in here, and you'll be seeing them trickling out in the next few weeks. I don't need that kind of headache, and
neither does the ship." He took a
sip of coffee. "But I do not, for
the record, consider you Decker's person.
You were mine long before he got his hooks into you, or have you
forgotten snookering me into letting you on my crew to find Roger?"
She
shook her head.
"I'm
proud of you, Chris. Damn
proud." He leaned forward. "Now, what the hell is going on with you
and Spock? And if you won't tell me,
fine. But you better fix it and fix it
fast. I need him, and he's distracted
and moody, and it's not just because of V'ger
anymore, is it?"
She
hated that he could make her tell the truth, or at least get her to shake her
head. But he'd always been able to worm
truths out of her. "I don't know
that this can be fixed, sir."
"For
God's sake call me Jim. And why can't it
be fixed?"
"Some
things can't be. Maybe they shouldn't
be." She took a deep breath. "He doesn't want me on the ship,
Jim."
"The
look he gave you as he walked in was light years away from not wanting you on
the ship. I'm not exactly sure what the
look was saying, but it wasn't saying that."
"I've
always been stupid over him."
"Is
it stupid to love someone?"
"If
they don't love you back, it is. If
they'll never, ever love you back, it is."
"Well,
you better make sure that's the case before you decide anything
drastic." He finished his coffee
and got up, laying a hand on her shoulder for a moment. "Fix this, Chris. Consider that an order."
---------
She
found McCoy waiting for her when she walked back into sickbay.
"Nice
coffee break with Jim?"
She
nodded.
"Spock
was here. I told him where you two
went."
Spock had followed them, then?
"Our
Vulcan friend is acting even weirder than normal, by the way."
She
shrugged, saw his eyes narrow. McCoy on
the scent was a terrible thing; he never lost it once he picked it up. "Just leave me alone, Doctor." She pushed past him and into one of the
diagnostic rooms, intent on rearranging the cabinet.
"Don't
Doctor me, Doctor." Len sat down on
the bed, arms crossed. "I thought
earlier he was acting weird around you in a bad way. I'll admit I thought maybe he hurt you in the
Pon Farr and that he felt guilty. But that's not the case, is it?"
"No." She didn't look at him, kept her back to him
as she moved things around randomly in the cabinet.
"You
were happy. Two days ago, I saw the two
of you in the mess, eating dinner, and you were happy. Both of you."
She
shrugged again.
"Damn
it, Christine. You're really annoying
when you won't look at me."
She
kept working.
"All
right, little lady. Here it
is. Spock's not happy anymore. And neither are you."
She
turned to look at him, saw him smile as if he thought his gambit had worked,
but his smile faded when she asked, "Are you happy? That I'm here. Working here. Do you wish
I was gone?"
"No,
I don't wish you were gone. Who the hell
else is going to put up with me?"
He moved closer, studied her.
"What's wrong?"
"Everything." She started to cry, hated that she was crying
in front of him. Knew he'd mock her like
the old days.
But
he didn't. He took her into his arms,
held her and said, "Oh, sweetheart, it's going to be all right. Just let it out."
She
finally pulled away. "Why are you
being so nice?"
"Because
it seems like you could use a little nice." He smiled gently at her, then
left her to do her completely unnecessary task in peace.
-----------------
She
stood at Spock's door, trying to decide if she was going to ring for admittance
or not. Footsteps sounded down the
corridor, and she took a deep breath and hit the button.
The
door slid open and she walked inside.
She'd never been in these quarters.
Spock hadn't had much chance to decorate them; they were still standard
issue, no flame pots, no wall hangings. He hadn't had time to get anything from his
parents' house on Vulcan, had shuffled them off the planet so fast...
Her
gut clenched, and she almost walked out, but she closed her eyes instead, tried
to imagine Len's arms around her, heard Jim's order in her mind.
"Christine?"
She
opened her eyes. Spock was sitting at
his desk, watching her with a look of concern.
"I'm
not experiencing the pain, well, that pain.
The thing he did to me. It hasn't
come back." God, could she be any
more incoherent?
She
closed her eyes again, prayed for strength--or at least a shred of her dignity,
if there was even that much left.
Taking
a deep breath, she let it out slowly.
She opened her eyes and said, "Jim wants me to stay on the
ship. So does Len."
It
was clearly not what he expected from her.
"I have no doubt they do."
"You
said they didn't. Oh, wait, you can
lie. Despite the
popular myth that Vulcans can't."
"I
believe it is more a case of 'don't.'"
"Yes,
I'm learning that." She walked
over, sat down across from him.
"What are we going to do?"
"I
do not know." He turned off the
terminal, steepled his fingers, and looked at
her. He seemed anything but calm, however, as his eyes met hers and he couldn't hold her
gaze.
"Feeling
guilty?"
"I
have been feeling guilty since Vulcan."
"Good."
He didn't answer, didn't look at her either.
"What
was so bad about being happy with me?
Why did you have to ruin it?"
"It
seemed very clear at that moment what my best action was, but looking back, I
no longer see the logic in the path."
"That's
just saying you fucked up, only with a lot more words."
He
met her eyes. "You are
correct."
"I've
had a lot of time to think about this."
She saw his eyebrows draw down in an almost frown. "Okay, I've had a lot of time last night
and today to think about this." He
seemed happier with that time assessment.
"At any rate, I've thought about what you did. I can forgive the memory thing. You had a medical reason and it was a good
one--and your amnesia therapy proved efficacious."
She
thought he let out a breath, as if he'd been holding it.
"And
you didn't hide that you'd done it. You
didn't try to talk me out of getting the memories back. You did the right thing."
"Thank
you."
"But
you were an utter bastard on Vulcan."
He
nodded.
"You
hurt me on purpose. The same way that
man did, only really, he just took what was already inside me. You put it there in the first place. Do you have any idea how much I was
hurting?" But of course he did. He'd taken the memories. He'd felt it for himself. "Question
withdrawn."
She
got up, began to pace, unwilling to sit across from him and have him not look
at her. "Why are you just sitting
there? What do you want from me?" She stalked over to him, tilted his chin up,
expecting him to startle at her touch, but he didn't. "Forgiveness, is that what you
want? Absolution? Or do you just want me to go away so you can
forget this ever happened?"
Something
changed in his eyes, and he stood and pulled her to him and kissed her. It was not a gentle kiss. It was not a kiss meant to hurt, either.
It
was pain, though. His. Hers. Theirs. It was pain and desire and regret.
She
moaned and he pushed her to the bed, urging her onto it, following her
down. He kissed her, not trying to do
more, not easing her clothes off or letting his hands roam.
He
sighed and put his fingers on the meld points.
"Give me permission."
"And
if I don't?"
He
slowly lifted his fingers off her face.
"You
have my permission."
He
didn't hesitate, and her mind welcomed him, and she felt his guilt and sorrow
and anger at himself filling her. She
felt pain that he might have lost her and then more pain that she was surprised
the thought even bothered him.
And
then she felt jealousy coming from him. Over Jim? And anger
at her for being with his friend. And
anger at his friend for taking his--his woman?
"It
was just coffee."
"There
was an ease between you two. We had it
while your memories were gone; we no longer do."
"You
think I'm your woman? After
all that's happened?"
"I
will always think you are my woman. Whether you think that is the question."
"You
confuse me. You confuse me so much." A sleepless night, the weirdness of the day,
it all caught up with her and she yawned.
He
let the meld go and pulled her close, not letting up on his grip until she
relaxed in his arms, until she cuddled in and closed her eyes.
"I
am sorry, Christine."
"I
know."
--------------------
She
woke to find him sleeping next to her, holding her in a gentle grip, his
breathing regular and deep. She eased
out of his arms, slipped out of bed, and stared down at him.
She
should leave. Leave and let him wake up
without her.
But she'd hate that, if he did that to
her. It had been bad enough having him
turn his back to her. What if she'd awakened
to find him gone?
She
eased back onto the bed and whispered, "Spock?"
He
opened his eyes, stared at her, and she realized that he'd been awake the whole
time. Then he pulled her down to him and
kissed her, rolling her onto her back, easing off her clothes, finding all the
places she liked to be touched, liked to be kissed and licked and suckled.
"Spock,
this isn't a good idea."
"I
disagree." He moved back up to her
mouth, kissed her hard, entering her almost as fiercely.
She
arched up to meet him, crying out as he took her, as
his fingers found the meld points, as his lust overwhelmed her. Clutching him, wrapping her legs around his
back, she let him do whatever he wanted to her--and enjoyed the hell out of it.
When
it was over, when they both lay breathing hard in each other's arms, she
whispered, "That was impulsive."
He
kissed her forehead, let his lips linger on her
skin. "When I was at Gol, when I was first assessed as a candidate, the
priestess said that my tendency toward impulsive acts was the source of much of
my dissatisfaction."
Dissatisfaction:
such a safe word for unhappiness.
"I
don't think of you as impulsive."
"Then
you do not know me as well as I thought you did." He took a deep breath. "I hurt you because I was afraid of the
emotions I was feeling. Instead of
riding them out, seeing where they led, I reacted. I did the same when I took your memories from
you--I know you have absolved me for that, but you should know that I was not
sure it would help you, but I knew it would help me."
She
closed her eyes. These truths were hard;
they hurt. But she had the feeling he wouldn't
share them with just anyone.
"Even
telling you of the burning--that I needed you.
I could have found other means to deal with this. There was time. But I wanted you and so I took you."
"And then you threw me away."
"Yes." He drew away, meeting her eyes. "I have done other things. You have seen many of them. Impetuous, illogical
things."
"I'm
not sure I care about those. I'm still
fixated on what you did to me."
"Understandable."
"Yes. What's not understandable is why I'm lying in
bed with you."
His
lips turned up slightly. "You love
me."
She
had the urge to hit him.
"Even
if I don't deserve it."
Hit
him, but not very hard.
"Because
you are kinder than I am. Because you are capable of loving even when you are hurt."
"I'm
not sure the second part is a good thing."
"I'm
glad you love me, even though I hurt you."
She
moved farther away in the bed, needing to put some distance between them. "I'm afraid you'll hurt me again."
"An
eminently logical fear. I no doubt
will." He watched her calmly.
"And
I can't begin to hurt you."
"There
you are wrong. It would hurt me if you
left me. To see you with someone else
would cause me pain."
"Really?" She laughed softly, bitterness adding a harshness to the sound.
"Really." He moved to close the gap between them,
kissed her again, his hand sliding down, touching her in a way she could not
possibly ignore. He looked very
satisfied with himself when she finally stopped writhing.
-----------------
The
ship seemed quieter without Spock on it, which was ludicrous since he wasn't
exactly a loudmouth. She'd thought
having him and Jim off the ship would be relaxing. Give her a chance to think.
She
seemed to be doing more missing him than thinking. Her brain was losing the war to her
heart--and her damn groin.
"You
have dinner plans tonight?" Len asked her as he handed her the weekly
report padd to sign.
"Nope."
"Well,
then join me."
"That
would be nice. I think I--" She saw
Spock standing at the door to sickbay.
Len
followed her gaze and his lips tightened.
"Oh."
"I'm
sure you have something nasty to say."
"Not
really. I can find another dinner
companion. Don't worry about me."
She
didn't, as a rule, worry about him. But
he moved away before she could decide if she was going to tell him that.
Spock
walked over to her, glanced at Len's office long enough for the look to be
significant, then nodded for her to go into her office and palmed the door
shut.
"We
are not doing it right here."
"No?" His look was amused, and she realized he had
one arm behind his back.
"What
are you doing?"
He
handed her a package wrapped in dark blue paper.
"It's
not my birthday. Or any other holiday
that requires gifts."
"I
am aware of that." He almost
smiled. "Open it."
She
tore the paper carefully and pulled out a scarf made of some silky fabric. It was purple and black, with streaks of
turquoise. She wound it around her neck. "Good?"
"No. When you wear it next, do not wear anything
else." He moved closer. "And please ensure I am there."
"You're
taking a lot on faith. That I'll get
naked for you again. That I even like the
scarf."
He
touched her cheek, stroking lightly along her jaw line. "I do not give gifts as a rule. I think you do not get them, either, as a
rule. Since I am enjoying the giving, and
since it is a beautiful item, it stands to reason that you are enjoying the
receiving."
"Very
logical."
"As
for being naked for me again..." He
pushed her up against the wall that separated her office from Len's. She couldn't help but think he did that on
purpose, some weird need to assert that she was his. "I think we both know how specious that
statement is."
Then
he kissed her, and she found herself agreeing that it was highly unlikely she
wouldn't be modeling the scarf--with nothing else on.
------------------
The
rec lounge was nearly empty and Chapel sat at the far
end, trying to finish up some work in a place where no one would think to look
for her.
"Hiding?" Jim sat down next to her, a cup of coffee in
hand, and sipped it as he stared out at the stars.
"Maybe."
"Why?" He wasn't looking at her, was still staring
at the stars as they went by at warp.
"I
need to get this done." She showed
him the padd.
Efficiency reports that Starfleet Medical had just instituted. Like there wasn't enough to do without more
bureaucracy. "Why are you so
interested in why I'm here?"
He
shrugged and took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "It's nice to be 'off' for a
minute."
Yes,
that was it. She could be off here. No Len watching her like a hawk, for reasons
she wasn't entirely sure he understood--she knew she didn't. No Spock coming in at weird moments as if he
wanted to make sure she knew he cared.
"Did
you come to check on me, Jim?"
"Not
really. I come here to relax. But here you were, so it seemed like the best
place to sit." He was studying
her. "You look happier than the
last time we talked."
She
didn't say anything.
"Spock
does too."
She
still didn't answer.
"That's
good. If you're happy
and he's happy. Or if you were
happy together, that would be good, too."
She
started to laugh.
"What?"
"If
this is you being Cupid, you really aren't good at it."
He
grinned. "No? I do much better for myself than for others,
I guess."
"I
guess so." She took a deep breath
then said, "He's happy. I think I'm
happy. And we seem to be happy
together."
"Why
do you not sound very happy about possibly being happy?"
She
smiled; he always got it, damn him.
"With Spock and me, happiness doesn't seem to last."
"Has there been a Spock and you before now?" He held up a hand as her lips tightened. "Don't get mad at me, Doctor. I'm serious.
You liked him, even chased him on occasion. But were you ever really with him?"
"No." She put the padd
down, leaned back, and closed her eyes.
"That's not the point."
"Oh. Okay.
What is?"
"I
don't know. I'm afraid, I
guess." She turned to meet his
eyes, saw only sympathy in his.
"What good is being happy if it's all going to get ripped
away?"
"Who's
going to rip it away? Because the only
one I see questioning it is you."
He leaned in. "Spock's very
happy. I can tell these things. You make him happy, Chris."
"But
does he want to be happy? Can that
last?"
"Not
if you are determined to analyze it to death." He touched her hand for a moment. "Just...go with it."
"Why
do you care so much?"
"I
like you both. I need you both. Happy works for me." He gave her a silly grin. "I'm a very selfish man, Chris."
"Go
away. I have work
to do." Her tone was rough, but she
gave him her gentlest smile to soften it.
-----------------
"What
if I were to leave the ship? How would
that affect you?" She turned on her
side, watching Spock's face as she ran her hand up and down his chest.
He
caught her hand, holding it in place.
"Are you leaving?"
"If
I were--how would that--"
"I
would be most unhappy."
"That's
a very human thing to say." She
wrestled her hand away, let it roam much farther down
than his chest.
He
groaned and closed his eyes.
"Nevertheless, it is an accurate answer to your question. It is a hypothetical question, is it
not?"
"For
now." She smiled at his frown, and then at how his
frown disappeared as she slid down his body, kissing her way to his groin.
He
didn't speak as she finished, just stroked her head and groaned, finally
calling out.
Her
name. Always her name.
She
felt him pulling her up, went eagerly, kissing him and laughing as he pushed
her to her back and returned the favor, making her cry out, making her writhe
underneath his mouth.
"Are
you leaving me?" he asked softly when they were finally quiet, lying in
each other's arms.
"No." She kissed him tenderly, almost sorry she'd
asked.
Almost.
------------------
Chapel
walked into the rec lounge with Spock, surprised he
was willing to go to the party, much less had suggested it. She saw Uhura glance over at her and smile,
saw Rand roll her eyes but in an "about damn time" way, not meanly.
Spock
led them to the bar where she ordered a gin and tonic and he ordered water, no
ice. Jim was sitting farther down the
bar and raised his glass of amber liquid to them both, then walked over.
"Coming
out, are we?" He grinned at them
both.
"Are
we?" She glanced at Spock.
"We
are." He sipped at his water
calmly. "Do you object?"
"No." She took a deep breath. "A little warning would have been
nice."
Spock
looked amused, in a completely Vulcan way.
V'ger was definitely wearing off. "I do not plan to ravish you on the
dance floor."
"Primarily
because he doesn't dance," Jim said, obviously trying not to laugh.
"That
is correct. I do not." Spock gave them both a stern look. "But the mere fact that I will maintain
a close distance to you all night will be equivalent to anyone else
doing"--he gestured to a couple having a little too much fun on the dance
floor--"that."
"I
suppose you're right." She moved
closer to see what he'd do; he didn't back up, just took a deep breath and
sipped more of his water.
"Wow,
look at that." Jim put his drink
down and took hers and handed it to Spock.
"You don't mind if I dance with her, do you?"
"Of
course, Jim. Please feel free to avail yourself of my
woman."
They
both stared.
"Ah,
I see I have your attention. Dancing is
acceptable."
"But
just dancing?" Jim's eyes were
glinting.
"Precisely."
"How
territorial of you, Spock.
Remarkable." He winked at
Chapel and pulled her away.
"Wow. Guess he told
me."
"It's
just possible he's jealous of us."
"Then
you are making progress." He
sighed, easing into the dance with practiced ease. "God, I miss doing this. This, Chris, was my ulterior motive. If you're with my best friend, then you're
safe. I can dance all night with you if
I want--although I think your beau might object."
"Safe." She took a deep breath, tried not to let the
word rile her.
"You're
not safe?"
"With
Spock? Uh, no." She missed a step and mumbled a quick
"Sorry."
"What
happened with you two on Vulcan?"
At her look, he gave her a knowing smile. "Chris, he's my best friend. I can figure out when he's hormonally
challenged."
"Right." As could Len. No hiding anything from the holy trinity. "It was just..." She couldn't bring herself to tell him what
had happened on Vulcan. "I just
feel like I shouldn't be too happy."
"Why? Isn't this what you always wanted?"
"It
is." The music changed but they
kept dancing. "You remember when we
found Roger and it was good, full of passionate kisses and the sex--"
"You
had sex with him?"
"A
quickie. A really good
quickie." She sighed. "And then it wasn't good because he
turned out to be an android."
"Spock's
not an android."
"I
know. My point is that sometimes I can't
tell a fake good thing from a real one."
"Roger
was a perfect copy, Chris. That was the
point. And I think he did love
you. And I think Spock loves you,
too."
"Or
he thinks that he loves me. And that's
not the same thing."
He
pulled her closer. "Stop
overanalyzing this and enjoy. You break
up with him and I'll have no one to dance with."
"You
could always dance with Len. He's quite
good, you know. Although
I'd hate to see the war for who would lead."
He
was still chuckling when he led her back to Spock.
----------------
They
lay in bed, Spock draped half over her.
He'd outdone himself in the "pleasing Christine" department,
and she stroked his head while he lazed.
She was a little surprised he was capable of lazing, but he was capable
of many things that she hadn't expected.
Being jealous of his best friend was one of them.
He
leaned up to look at her, and she kissed him gently. His hand meandered down her belly and she
grabbed it and said, "For the love of God, Spock. Let me catch my breath."
He
gave her his almost smile and went back to lazing.
"You're
trying to make it impossible for me to leave you, aren't you?"
"Yes. Is it working?"
She
laughed. His honesty often amused
her. When it wasn't
ripping her to shreds. "I
would have left. If
that man hadn't attacked us. I'd
have requested a transfer just like you told me to and left."
He
didn't answer.
"But
then you know that. You took my
memories, after all." She tipped
his chin up so she could see his expression.
"That's why you seduced me when I was recovering. So I wouldn't leave. So I'd have new memories on top of the ones
you were going to give me back."
"Yes. That is exactly what I did." He moved up to lie on the pillow next to her,
did not look away as he said. "I
had a made a mistake. I wished to remedy
it. I knew you would flee as soon as I
restored your memories. It seemed
logical to give you something to stay for."
"But
was that because you loved me or because you felt guilty?"
He
kissed her gently. "Does it matter
if this is the result?"
"Yes."
"Then
both. It was because I loved you and because I felt
guilty."
"That
last part could destroy us. If the first part isn't strong enough."
"It
will be strong enough." He touched
her face, dipped down to press lightly on the meld points. "I could bring us closer any time I
chose. I am electing not to do
that. Because you need
to do this the human way. And I
have learned enough about you to know that."
He
kissed her again, pulling her against him, showing her he was ready for her
again.
"Recovering
that quickly is not human."
"I
cannot be held accountable for the vagaries of my anatomy." His eyes were very light as he pushed her to
her back.
She
laughed as he took her. She kissed him,
and for the first time since he'd given her back her pain, felt as if disaster
didn't loom at every turn.
-------------------
The
Federation detention center was a large gray block surrounded by multiple force
fields. Chapel followed Spock inside the
main door, trying to beat back the fear she felt as they moved deeper into the
building.
He
glanced back at her, touched her hand in full view of their escort, and she
smiled at him and took a deep breath.
The
guard gave her a gentle look. "Here
we are." He gestured toward a
holding cell. "Is this the man who
assaulted you?"
They
could have done this remotely. But she'd
wanted to see the man in person. Needed to see him.
The
man saw her and looked shocked. "You?"
"Me."
She nodded at Spock. "And him."
The
man as close as the forcefield would allow him. "You shouldn't be alive."
"Never
underestimate Vulcan ingenuity."
And she smiled as she stared him down.
She
felt Spock's hand come to rest on the small of her back, could feel the warmth
of him. And she let that warmth seep
in. She looked at the guard, took a deep
breath, and said, "Open it. I want
to test something."
"Christine."
"It's okay, Spock. Really."
The
guard opened a small section of the forcefield and
she walked through.
"You
thought it was fun to hurt me."
Rage filled her, at Spock, at this man, at herself.
The
man backed away.
"You
don't like anger, do you?" She
moved closer. "You just like
pain."
"You've
made a remarkable recovery, my dear. But
he'll betray you in the end."
"No. No, he won't." And before she could think better of it, she
slugged the man hard in the stomach, caught him with linked hands on his chin
as he fell. He hit the ground and didn't
get up.
Those
Starfleet self defense courses were useful, after all.
"Ma'am,
I'm going to have to ask you to come out now." The guard sounded more amused than angry.
"No
problem. We're finished here."
Spock's
lips tilted up slightly. "You are
all right."
"I'm
a long way from all right," she murmured as they walked back to the
entrance. "I may have broken my
hand."
----------------------
Vulcan
still felt like a blast furnace. As she
walked the short path to Spock's family home, she felt out of breath and
sweaty.
"The
Tri-Ox will help, Christine, but only if you take it."
"I'm
aware of that." She took the hypospray out, slid it under her hair, and let it go. The hissing sound was accompanied by an
immediate feeling of relief. She could
breathe again.
But
she was still sweating like a pig.
How
did Amanda stand this?
Spock
opened the door and indicated for her to go in.
The house felt blessedly cool.
"Spock?" Amanda came out from an adjoining room,
smiling at him, then turning to Chapel. "Oh, my dear, welcome."
Chapel
shot Spock a panicked look. "You
said they wouldn't..."
"I
was mistaken." Spock turned toward
the hallway. "I believe I hear my
father." And he was gone like a
shot.
Amanda
was laughing. "He told you we'd be
gone?"
Chapel
nodded.
"Would
you have come if you'd known otherwise?"
She walked over to Chapel, took her arm and led her into the
kitchen. "Meeting the parents can
be scary, but you know us, dear. Why so
apprehensive?" She poured a glass
of something golden into a glass of ice.
"Here, this is very cooling."
Which meant Chapel didn't just feel like a sweaty pig, she looked like one,
too. Great.
Although,
Amanda was right. Chapel knew them. Had seen them occasionally
on Earth when she was in med school.
Had even had lunch with Amanda once when she'd run into the woman in the
shopping district. They'd not talked
about Spock; he'd been at Gol then. They'd talked about other things, easy
things.
She
sipped her drink, found it delicious if a bit bitter.
Sort
of summed up her relationship with Spock right now.
"Spock
clearly wanted me to talk to you if he fled to his father's study. That is the last place he would normally
go." Amanda eased Chapel onto one
of the stools that sat near the high counter.
Then she took the one next to her and waited.
Chapel
fiddled with her glass, making little patterns in the condensation that was
forming on the side.
"Are
you two having trouble?"
Wow,
Amanda was really going to do this.
Spock got his determined streak from her, apparently.
"No,
we're not having trouble."
"But
you've had trouble?"
"Did
he pre-brief you?" Chapel shook her
head and laughed--it came out too harsh.
"No,
he didn't. He just said he was bringing
you with him. Since my son has brought
exactly zero women home with him before you--with the exception of his fiancee of whom the less said the better--both Sarek and I
thought this might be a significant thing."
Chapel
laughed, and this time it came out right.
Light and almost happy.
"So,
what's the problem, Christine?"
Chapel
wasn't going to talk to Spock's mother about this. It was just...wrong.
"You're
being very loyal. And I appreciate
that. Spock needs that in his life after
T'Pring. But I
think I can imagine what this is about.
I had my own doubts many years ago when I fell for Sarek."
"It's
confusing. Vulcan men."
"It
is, isn't it? When we're young, everyone
sells us on true love, soulmates, all
that romantic stuff. They never tell us
that someone who can see your soul--can see the real you--can also hurt you
worse than anyone else." At
Chapel's startled look, she took her hand.
"Spock is very like his father.
And Sarek has hurt me over the years.
Not often, but when he did--he hit deep." She swallowed. "I almost left him once. He was...well, never mind what he was. Suffice it to say that they can be real jerks
when they want to be."
"Yes,
they can."
"But
the rest of the time, they can be extraordinary. Are you happy with my son, Christine? Because if you're not,
that's one thing. But if you are,
and you're simply afraid that he will cause you pain
in the future--well, that's silly.
Because of course he will. The
people we love are always the ones who hurt us."
"This
is some pep talk." But Chapel was
smiling. Amanda might not sugarcoat
anything, but what she said made sense.
"Spock
clearly thinks the world of you if he's inflicting his father on himself." She grinned.
"They are far too much alike.
You'll no doubt get to experience that during your stay. But Sarek approves of you, so you can rest
easy--his disapproval will be pointed at his son, not at you."
Chapel
wondered what it would be to live that way.
Knowing the two men you loved couldn't get along--might never get along.
"Listen
to me go on.
You should go to Spock. Your
room--that's you in the plural, in case you were wondering--is just down the main
hall. Third on the
left."
Chapel
found Spock unpacking. He shot her a
look that was almost guilty, but also very satisfied, as if he had every
confidence that the Amanda Grayson Method of Girlfriend Adjustment would be
entirely successful.
She
shut the door and walked up to him.
"You could have told me the truth."
"You
would not have come if you'd known they would be here. I wanted you to have a chance to interact
with them. And the memories you have of
Vulcan are not pleasant ones. I hope to change
that."
"By
fighting with your father the whole time?"
"I
will endeavor not to do that. But I
cannot guarantee anything." He
seemed to sigh, then shook it off.
"My father once asked me why I did not pursue you. When I told him you were, in fact, pursuing
me but I was not interested, he indicated that my intelligence might be
substandard."
She
laughed. "Really? Sarek did?"
"He
did. He thought you were a most suitable
mate."
"Well,
points for him, then."
Spock
left the unpacking and walked over to her, locking the door before he pushed
her up against the wall and kissed her almost fiercely. "I have since been convinced that his
position was, indeed, the right one. Most logical to have you in my life."
What
he was doing to her wasn't logical at all.
He had her clothes pushed up and slipped down, had his robe in the same
state. He hiked her up onto him, moving
quickly and hard, kissing her to drown out the sounds of their climaxes.
When
he let her down, they were both breathing hard.
He kissed her gently and said, "I love you, Christine." He stroked an errant strand of hair off her
cheek. "I love you very much."
It
was all she'd ever wanted to hear from him.
She searched her heart, found fear but hope as well. Maybe the future didn't have to be scary? Maybe they could make it?
Whatever
it ended up being, she knew one thing was certain: "I love you, too,
Spock."
FIN