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) 2003 by Djinn. This story is Rated PG-13.

Frostbite

by Djinn

"God, it's a frozen wasteland." In the dying afternoon light, the snow of Prevalus looked old and dirty to Christine Chapel. "What a hellhole."

"They told me it was like Greenland," the young ensign next to her said.

Christine shot him an exasperated look. "It is like Greenland."

"But I thought it was Iceland that was icy and Greenland that was--."

"--Green? Remind me not to choose you for the geography bee, Ensign." She grabbed her bags from the shuttle's back compartment and hefted the lighter one over her shoulder. The building ahead was for new arrivals so she followed the other passengers inside.

Once they were all assembled a bored-looking man stepped forward. "Hello. I'm Commander Perkins, the Star Fleet attaché to Prevalus. Has anyone been stationed here before?"

No hands went up.

"Of course not. Why would anyone in their right mind come back to this deepfreeze?" He looked sternly around the room. "In case you haven't figured it out yet, this is the southern polar region and it snows here. All the time. And I do mean all the time. Not just some of the time. Not just most of the time."

"All of the time." the lieutenant next to Christine muttered. "Yeah, yeah, we get it. It snows."

Christine smiled. "I think someone's been playing in that snow a little too long."

"I think you're right, Commander." The lieutenant fell silent as Perkins glared in their direction.

He gestured to a desk behind him. "I don't care what kind of gear your units rigged you with; it won't last two minutes in this climate. We have boots, coats, and gloves that will keep you warmer than anything you have now. State-of-the-art stuff that some of your colleagues at the scientific institute here have created. So take off the gear you've got on and get ready to turn it in."

Christine saw Ensign Greenland strip off his coat then start to undo his uniform. She tapped him on the shoulder. "I'm pretty sure he just meant the outerwear."

The young man blushed. "Oh. Thanks." He turned around in a hurry.

Christine stifled a laugh. As she passed Perkins, he turned to her. "Something funny, Commander?"

"A situation like this, sir. I think you have to laugh or cry."

"We'll see what you're doing after a year here."

She tried to make her tone more respectful. "I'm only here for a few months, sir. Replacing someone who ummm..."

"Oh. You're Torrance's replacement. You crazy?"

"Only for coming here, sir."

"Well, at least you realize it. If you start hearing voices, tell someone about it before you do something we'll all regret."

"Yes, sir."

Perkins moved on to harass someone else, and Christine traded in her heavy coat and gloves for ones of much lighter material. "This is so thin. It can't be better than what I have, can it?" she asked the young man working the desk.

"Trust me. I'm on my second year here."

She shrugged and handed him her boots for his state-of-the-art ones.

"These form a seal with the fabric underneath them," he said, showing her how to engage the seal. "You'll never have cold, wet feet."

She smiled. "And as a doctor, I recognize the importance of that."

He grinned at her, handed her a small padd. "Here's the code for your apartment, and the directions."

She glanced at them. It seemed to involve a lot of walking. Surely they didn't mean outside in the snow? She sat down on an empty bench and pulled on her new boots and gloves, which she found were warm and a lot more comfortable than the ones she'd been wearing. Getting up, she walked over to ask Perkins, "The instructions say to walk, is there a passageway?"

He shook his head.

"A pedestrian tunnel?" she asked hopefully.

"Nope. There's the road. The snow-covered road. We can't go wrecking the perfect geologic and atmospheric conditions you scientists treasure so much by putting in amenities like tunnels and covered walkways, now can we? You want to walk, it's through the snow."

"Right, sir." She waited until he turned away, then hefted her bags and headed quickly for the door. The snow seemed to be coming down harder, so she took a last look at her directions, then shoved the padd in the pocket of her jacket. She hadn't taken five steps when she realized she had forgotten to put up her hood. She kept walking as she fumbled with it one-handed, just about had it fastened when she suddenly collided with something large and going much faster in the opposite direction. She fell back into the snow, bags falling on either side of her.

"It would be less hazardous to pay attention to where you are going," the man that had run her down suggested.

She decided he was not going to help her up and pushed herself to her feet saying, "No, really, don't worry about me," when she realized that she recognized the man's voice. "It can't be," she said, pushing her hood out of her eyes and locking eyes with her worst nightmare, formerly the man of her dreams. "Spock?"

"Doctor Chapel?" His voice almost squeaked. Apparently she was his worst nightmare too. Well, that wasn't anything new.

She grabbed her bags and pushed past him. "I'm only here for a few months. We never saw each other. Have a nice life." She hurried through the snow and worried that she might slip, but the new boots provided excellent traction.

She was halfway down the street, sure that the flush in her face had receded somewhat, when she heard him call out, "Doctor Chapel?" She turned reluctantly. He walked up to her quickly, handed her the padd. "You dropped this."

"Oh. Thanks." She stuck it back in her pocket.

"They fasten. For security."

She snapped the pocket shut. "I knew that."

He raised an eyebrow. "Indeed."

He seemed at a loss for words, so she held up a gloved hand and said, "Okay. Bye." She spun around and hurried off to find her apartment. The walk was short but every part of her that wasn't covered by state-of-the-art fabric was freezing by the time she got to her building. She couldn't wait to get warm in her apartment. When she located the room and opened the door, a blast of cool air hit her. "This can't be happening," she muttered, as she tried to find the temperature control. It said it was putting out heat. "In a pig's eye," she said, finally finding a use for McCoy's favorite saying. She thought of him, happily ensconced in Georgia...where it was warm.

She commed the maintenance number and got a recording. "Your maintenance request is very important to us..." She checked the chiller unit while she waited. It was empty. There were several numbers for supplies on the comm unit. She would call one after she talked to maintenance. Ten minutes later, she gave up on maintenance and cut the connection. At least the store answered promptly and promised to have her supplies to her quickly. Christine was still fiddling with the temperature controller when her door chimed.

A young girl was just putting down the container. "Oh, hi. I didn't expect anyone to be home." She picked up the food and handed it to Christine. "Most people comm us from the institute during the day and we have stuff waiting for them at the door by the time they get home." She peered into Christine's apartment. "Do you like it this cold?"

"I just got here. I'm trying to get it warm." Christine suddenly had a bad feeling. "Did Torrance live here?"

The girl nodded and hurried away. Obviously Torrance was a touchy subject. And no wonder he went nuts, Christine thought, if he had to put up with these conditions. She put the food away, and checked out the rest of the apartment, fully expecting to find it stripped bare or lacking some basic necessity like a shower. But it all seemed fine. If only she could make it closer to something approaching warm, she'd be in good shape.

Christine sat down on her bed, revising her statement. If only Spock wasn't here, she'd be in good shape. What was he doing here? Granted she hadn't asked the admiral that sold her on helping out with this job whether Spock would be on the planet, but then why would she have? Despite being such a plum research location, Prevalus really was the back of beyond for any posting other than scientific and it had been a long time since Spock had been a science officer. There was absolutely no logical reason for him to be here, she thought unhappily. But here he was. Hopefully, his office was far away from hers and they'd never run into each other. Literally or figuratively.

She noticed a light blinking on her comm unit. Apparently the institute had been advised that she was here. Resolutely putting Spock out of her mind, she went over to the bedroom desk and started to read up on her new posting.

---------------------------

The welcoming briefing was filled to capacity. As one of the ranking officers at the institute, Spock had been asked to give the opening remarks at the orientation for the latest group of arriving officers. It was not a new request, was in fact something he had done many times in the year that he had been on Prevalus. But this class was different. This class had _her_ in it.

He looked around the room, saw Doctor Chapel file in behind several others. She glanced at the podium, noticed him, and quickly looked away. He waited for the wistful glances she used to send his way on the Enterprise, the tremulous smiles she would give him if he so much as looked at her.

She took her seat and ignored him. A lieutenant took the seat next to her and said something amusing enough to make her laugh. She was soon absorbed in conversation.

Fascinating, Spock thought to himself as he realized that she did not appear interested in him at all. He was profoundly glad of it.

His welcoming remarks were brief, and he left the conference room as soon as he was finished and returned to his office. As on many other days, he lost himself in his research, and only realized how late it was by the ever-decreasing noise level in the hallway. This was the time of night he preferred to work. It was quiet, with no distractions. No one to come barging in asking him to give welcoming speeches. No one to ask him to lunch, or over to a residence for dinner. Not that anyone asked him anymore. He had turned all invitations down when he had first arrived, and by now his colleagues were used to the idea that he did not socialize outside of work events.

There had been a time when he had not kept himself so isolated. A time when he could be cajoled to a dinner or lunch. But that was when Jim was still alive. And before Spock's mother had died. He tried not to examine the pain he still felt when he thought of them. Logically, he knew that he had spent more of his later years apart from them than with them. So their loss should be somehow diminished, the pain not this strong. But logic had no power against the kind of grief he had gone through, first when he had heard of his friend's death...two years, five months, three weeks, and four days ago, his mind calculated effortlessly. And later when his mother had died. But Kirk's death had brought an added pain: Spock knew that he should have been with him. But he had chosen not to attend the launching of the Enterprise B. And it haunted him because he thought that perhaps if he had been there, things would have turned out differently. Jim might still be alive.

At least his mother's death six months later did not consume him the same way. She had lost a battle to age and fatigue and a hostile environment. And to a disease just waiting to exploit the right set of circumstances. Her decline had been sudden. Fortunately, he had been near Vulcan at the time. He had not missed her death, had sat with Sarek throughout the ordeal. It had been the hardest thing he had ever done. But for her, he would do it. For her...and for his father.

It should have brought them closer. And maybe, in some way that would become clear in the future, it had. But for now, Spock felt no nearer to understanding his father than he ever had.

He shook off the memories. It was not productive to wallow in them. He forced his mind back to his work, spent several more hours refining his report. Finally, he closed down his terminal and left his office, walking quickly down to the lockers by the door, where the institute staff kept their outdoor gear. As he sat changing his shoes, two civilian scientists sat down on the adjacent bench.

"Did you see the latest batch, Carl?"

"Yeah. I liked the brunette...the commander."

"A little old for my blood."

The man named Carl laughed. "You're an idiot. She looks like she knows how to have fun."

"Well, you go for her then. I like the blonde that came in on last week's shuttle."

"I tried talking to her. She's not very friendly." The two men were still discussing the newly-arrived women as they left the building.

Spock realized that the brunette they had been talking about was probably Doctor Chapel. The institute was small and the staff tended to pair off quickly, there being relatively little in the way of recreation on this snowbound world. There was always some intrigue about who was seeing whom, but Spock had never found any reason to listen to the gossip. Until now.

Not that he cared. Doctor Chapel could do as she pleased. So long as she didn't set her sights on him again.

-------------------------------

Christine looked up from her research, surprised to see how late it was. She just had time to grab something to eat if she was going to make the concert. She had been warned by a colleague that seats went fast for the small symphony orchestra that had been pulled together years ago from the musically inclined permanent residents and more transient scientists and had proven a popular draw ever since. "They might not be the best symphony, but they are the only orchestra on the planet," Commander Johnston had said with a laugh. "And they'll try anything, no matter how ambitious."

Christine hurried to the cafeteria, glad to see it much less full than it seemed to be during the day. She'd ended up taking her food back to her office every time she'd gone there for lunch. She picked a table near the door and tried not to gulp down her meal.

"Hi there."

She looked up in surprise. A civilian stood at the other side of the table, smiling down at her.

"Hi."

"I noticed you the minute you arrived." He was good looking enough, but something in the set of his smile, the tone of his voice told her he probably noticed a lot of the women the minute they arrived. "I'm Carl." He held out his hand.

She didn't take it. Carl looked disappointed but she didn't care. Once upon a time, when she'd first hit Earth after she left the Enterprise, men like Carl were just the balm that her pride needed. But now...they bored her. "Doctor Chapel," she said coldly.

His smile wavered a bit but he kept trying. "Do you mind if I sit?"

She got up. "I'm just leaving."

"Well, I'll go with you."

She turned to him. "Carl. Let's cut the crap. What do you want?"

"Your name for starters?"

"I told you my name."

"Your first name."

"I'm in a bit of a hurry. Just tell me what you want."

"I thought you and I could get to know one another. This can be a lonely place and I--"

"I'm late for the symphony. Bottom line it for me, okay?"

He tried to smile, but her glare seemed to unnerve him slightly. "You and I and a picnic somewhere warm...like your bedroom?"

She laughed out loud. "Believe me, there is no colder place in this universe than my bedroom." She saw his look of shock. "That didn't come out quite right. I mean the heater's broken or something."

He looked relieved. "Then my bedroom."

She handed him her tray. "I'm flattered. Really. But I don't think so. Now, be a love and take this to the recycler. I have to run." She left him staring in confusion, knew better than to look back. Men like Carl would take it as a sign of interest. Men like Carl would take anything as a sign of interest. She heard him call out, "Wait...I'll go with you, I love the symphony," as he rushed to the recycler.

She didn't wait, quick timed it down the hall to the auditorium and headed for some empty seats deep in the middle of the crowd where she thought he would have trouble finding her. "Is this seat taken?" she asked, the man who was studying his program. Then she realized who it was. "Shit."

She saw Carl enter the auditorium. He saw her before she could try to hide and began to head for her row.

Spock followed her gaze, said, "You appear to have an admirer."

She made a pleading face at Spock. "He's really annoying. And if you say that it's only fair for me to know how you felt all those years, you'd be wrong."

He thought about that, then indicated the seat. "Please."

She sat gratefully, hoping Carl would see who she was with and break off his pursuit. "Thanks. I know this is probably a horrifying scenario for you."

"Horrifying is an overstatement."

She busied herself with the program, not really seeing it, and muttered, "Well, you're not exactly thrilled either."

"There is, I believe, some middle ground between those two reactions."

She had forgotten how sharp his hearing was. "Like what? Chagrined? Embarrassed? Trepidatious?"

His eyebrow rose slowly. "I have not had time to fully analyze my reaction."

"Well, be sure to let me know when you do." She glanced down the row, saw Carl making his way toward her. "Oh, crap."

"He does seem determined to get your attention," Spock said evenly.

"You're a big help, Spock."

"I was not aware you needed my help." He was studying her curiously. "His attentions are unwelcome?"

She rolled her eyes. "He doesn't care who I am or what I'm like. All he knows is that I'm one of the new flavors in town and he wants a taste. And he's probably come on to, if not slept with, every new woman that would have him. So, yes, his attentions are unwelcome, you big dope." She realized what she had called him when both his eyebrows rose. "I mean...Mister Spock."

"I see."

Carl, with a mantra of "excuse me, watch your feet," finally reached the empty seat next to her. "Why didn't you wait for me?"

Spock leaned forward. "Perhaps because Doctor Chapel is here with me. I do not recall you being included in our plans."

Carl's mouth fell open. "She's with you?"

Spock did a passable job of lying as he said, "She is."

Christine had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing. It was just too funny. In a sort of nightmarish way.

Carl looked at her. "You're with Captain Spock?"

She shrugged. "What can I say?" It wasn't a lie, it wasn't even an answer. She hoped he wouldn't notice that.

She had to give Carl credit for not wasting any more time than was necessary fighting rejection. "My mistake," he said, rising quickly and working his way back down the aisle.

She turned to Spock, saw that he had gone back to reading the program. "Thanks."

"You are welcome," he said, not looking up.

A few moments later the lights went down and the musicians began to play. Johnston had been right, they weren't the best symphony but they weren't bad. They played a variety of Russian composers, and Christine found herself sinking into the last song, moved by the sad strains of a Borodin piece that she'd only ever heard on recordings--it seemed even sadder live.

When the lights went up, she sat for a moment before taking a deep slow breath. Suddenly conscious that Spock was looking at her, she got up quickly. "I'm sorry. You want out, of course."

He didn't rise. "You found the music affecting?"

"It was sad."

He nodded. "Did it make you sad?"

She realized there was a distinction. "No. But it reminded me of all the times I was sad. It typified them for me. Brought them to me, instead of taking me back to them." She realized that she was going on and looked down, felt her face flushing. "And that made absolutely no sense at all."

He surprised her by saying, "I understand."

She looked over at him. His eyes seemed unbearably sad for a moment.

"I'm sorry," she said softly.

"For what?"

She smiled, feeling slightly stupid. "I have no idea." She turned and moved away from him, saying, "Well, I'll see ya 'round." When she reached the end of the row, she looked back at him for a moment. He was still sitting, gazing forward but in an unfocused way that made him look as if he was staring back in time. She wondered what he was seeing.

Then he turned and looked at her. Their eyes met, his were placid but with the same lingering sadness. He rose slowly, walked to her. "I came here to escape." He looked strangely relieved by his revelation.

She figured he didn't mean to the symphony. "I wondered. And, for whatever it's worth, I didn't know you were on Prevalus when I agreed to the posting."

He nodded. "I believe you." He gestured that she should move on. He stayed by her side, walking with her out to the front entrance where they put on their boots and coats.

Once they were outside, she turned to him. "What were you trying to escape?" When he did not answer, she said softly, "That's a stupid question. Kirk's death. I knew it would be hard for you."

Spock nodded.

"You weren't there. You were always there when he needed you. But not that time."

He nodded again.

"That wasn't your fault. We all move on. It's how life is. He would have been the first one to understand that, I think. And the last one to hold a grudge against you for it."

He stopped and she wondered if she had said the wrong thing. But he nodded at the walkway to a house set back from the road. "This is my residence."

"It looks nice." She gestured on ahead. "I'm up that way. Thanks again for the rescue. It was over and above the call of duty." She turned to walk away.

"Would you like to come in?"

"In?" she asked stupidly. "In there?" Then she laughed. "I mean...uh..."

"And to think I was just admiring your power of expression." He shook his head slightly, and she realized he was teasing her. "I will make tea," he offered.

"Spock, you don't have to. What you did tonight for me...it was kind of you. I know I make you uncomfortable. God knows, it makes me uncomfortable when I think of how I used to chase after you. It's probably better if I go back to my own place." She turned to leave.

"Jim was not my only loss. My mother died."

She recognized the pain, ached for him because she knew she couldn't take it away, no one could. "I lost mine a few years ago. It hurts." She saw the sadness flicker across his face again. He needs to talk, she realized. She stepped toward him. "Is your place warm?" When he looked confused, she said, "Mine isn't. I'd love some warmth."

He nodded. "Come in."

The heat blasted out at her even before she crossed the threshold and she moaned happily at the feel. "Vulcan hot," she whispered.

"Yes." He took her coat from her, hung it up in a small closet. "It is normally too hot for a human."

She laughed. "I grew up in the Mojave, Spock. I've spent most of my Star Fleet career being too cold."

"I did not know that."

She laughed. "No reason you should have." She pulled her boots off, and he gestured to a shelf in the closet where some soft slippers were tucked. She found a pair that fit and slipped them on over her socks. "Not like you know very much about me at all. Or vice versa." She shrugged. "Kind of sad, considering you were once the great love of my life. A great love I never even knew." She shot him an embarrassed smile. "I think when I realized that, I was finally free to move on. To get off the ship and find my own way."

He nodded. "You have done well for yourself since then."

"Yeah. Witness," she said with a laugh.

"Prevalus, despite the bitter climate, is a difficult posting to obtain, one that many scientists vie for. The atmospheric conditions, coupled with the unique properties of the planet's geology make it the perfect location for scientific research."

"So you're the guy that wrote the travel brochure they use to lure in innocent scientists. I wondered who was responsible for that." She grinned. "And anyway, I'm short term, just replacing Torrance," she said neutrally, following him down the hall. "I never got the straight story on him."

"Too much snow," was Spock's answer.

"What is the deal with him? No one will tell me a damn thing and I--" She stopped talking, gazing around the room he had stopped in, mesmerized by the way it blended nature and artifice. "It's the desert."

"Yes." He sounded pleased that she understood.

She took a step, then unsure, turned to him. "It's all right to go in?"

He nodded, his eyes gentle.

She stepped onto the sandy colored carpeting, then reached down and stroked it. It looked like jute or sisal, but was surprisingly smooth on her skin. The chairs and couches, placed seemingly at random as if they had just grown out of the floor, were a warm ivory, the fabric soft and inviting. But it was the small bushes that actually were growing out of the floor that entranced her. The sandy soil blended perfectly with the carpet, only a border of sandstone delimiting the two. She walked over to a small pine-like shrub. Its sparse needles, clustered mostly at the end of the branches, let off a lush odor. She was immediately back home; a little girl gently crushing the needles of the pinyons that grew in the higher elevations, smelling once again their intoxicating scent.

Spock was standing behind her. "The plant is called Takith M'hera. My mother loved them. She said they smelled like the evergreens she had grown up with. I grew this from a cutting I took from her garden. I did not expect to plant it here, but the previous residents of the house were not Vulcan and kept the temperature much cooler. When I arrived, all the plants had died. What you see here are all from her gardens." He walked over to another bush. "They all thrive except this one."

She walked over. "A rose? Do roses grow well on Vulcan?"

He shook his head. "My mother grew them nonetheless. She had to work with them constantly."

Christine touched the thorn gently. "Did they survive her death?"

"No." He pulled off a withered leaf.

"But you did. Even though you may not have wanted to at times." Before he could answer, she said, "My mom's death was hard. I didn't expect that. We were close but it had been so long since I'd spent any real time with her."

He nodded.

"But it was still a blow. Watching her die..." She closed her eyes. "It was like the Borodin tonight. That's what that song meant to me. It was her death." She looked over at him. "Was it their deaths...for you?"

He stood silently for a moment. Then he very slowly nodded.

"It gets better. In time. Or maybe not better. Just hurts less."

"It has...it does....hurt less." he said, he seemed to struggle for the words. "Time heals."

"That it does. Sometimes, it's the only thing that does."

He pulled off another dead leaf. "This was the last of her roses to die. I took a cutting for stasis. Forced it back to life. But it does not live."

"It's alive, Spock. It just needs some help. Try eggshells," she offered softly.

He looked at her in surprise. "For the lime?"

She shrugged. "Or the other nutrients. At least that's what my grandmother used to use. Well, that and banana peels. But they stink to high heaven and this room's too nice to do that to." She looked up at the blazing lamps that felt so much like natural sunlight and made the space so warm, so welcoming. "This is heaven."

"It is pleasant."

"No, Spock. It's heaven. You should try my place for an hour and you'd be singing this room's praises too."

"If you say so." He looked away. "I will make tea."

"You don't have to," she said gently. "I have to go." She held up a hand when he began to protest. "You're just being polite, so cut it out. It's late. Thank you for sharing this with me. And for rescuing me."

"That man would not have been good for you," he said unexpectedly as he led her back down the hall.

"Is that opinion based on fact?"

He suddenly looked uncomfortable. "On what else would I base such an opinion?"

She laughed. "I really can't begin to imagine, Mister Spock." She pulled on her boots, took her coat from him. "Okay. Well. Good night." She hurried out the door and into the night.

The warmth of Spock's garden room stayed with her all the way home.

-----------**2**-------------------

Spock at first regretted that he had opened up to Doctor Chapel, sure that she would try to exploit his momentary willingness to let her in. He spent the day after the concert certain that she would appear at the door of his office, perhaps bearing a bowl of plomeek soup. But she surprised him. She did not try to get closer, did not seek him out at all.

He settled back into his routine and put her out of his mind except the few times he saw her in the hall. He nodded, she smiled, and they both kept walking.

He was headed back to his office after an unproductive meeting, mentally going over the flaws of his colleague's position and trying to determine the best way to sway him, when Doctor Chapel came around the corner, nearly barreling into him.

"Oh god, I'm sorry, Spock. I seem to be making a habit of this." She smiled sheepishly. "I hate to crash and run but I'm late for a briefing."

Before he could say anything, she was gone.

He saw her several days later, talking in the hallway with a lieutenant commander from astrophysics. Her smile was open and relaxed. Spock realized that it was not the expression she had used with him, then dismissed the thought as irrelevant. As he walked by, he nodded to them both.

"Captain Spock," she murmured.

"Doctor," he replied.

The next day, Spock was passing the cafeteria when he heard someone say, "You're no more with Captain Spock than anyone else is. You think I don't know you were playing a game with me? I just want to know how you got that damn Vulcan to unbend long enough to play along."

Doctor Chapel looked up as Spock came up behind Carl. Her expression was one of embarrassed apology.

"Perhaps you would care to ask the damn Vulcan for yourself?"

Carl whirled around. "Oh, Captain Spock. I didn't see you there."

"No. Your back was turned. In the future, it would be prudent to see who is behind you before you comment on things of which you know very little." Spock moved closer to Doctor Chapel as he spoke.

"We're all friends here," Carl said.

"No," Spock said very firmly. "We are not."

He saw Carl's eyes dart toward the cafeteria. "I see my lunch date. I'll leave you two alone." Then the man dashed for the food line.

"I'm sorry." Doctor Chapel moved out of the doorway. "I didn't know he was going to be such a jerk about this."

"You have nothing to be sorry for. His behavior is his own responsibility."

She nodded. "I know. But I'm still sorry." She took a sip of the coffee she held, then looked up at him. "Want to walk?"

He nodded before he had a chance to think.

"Really?" she asked, with an incredulous lilt to the word. He shot her a look and she said, "Okay, then," heading away from both their wings, down a long hallway that led to some of the larger labs. "I'm sorry for almost running you down the other day."

"I am unharmed as you can see."

"Lucky for you. They should put up those little round mirrors that they used to have in the lower levels of Star Fleet Command. The ones that kept the supply hovers from taking out unwary pedestrians. Do you remember them?"

He nodded, slightly amused at the idea of the institute's maintenance staff installing such devices after a rash of injuries caused by Doctor Chapel being late for a briefing. He turned to look at her and saw that she was studying him as well. She looked away, taking a sip of coffee as if to hide her embarrassment at being caught.

"How are you settling in?" he asked.

"Oh, I can survive anywhere, Spock. Especially when it's just for a few more months. I just wish my place was warmer." She made a face and then laughed. "What about you? Do you like it here?" She held up a hand before he could answer. "I know, 'like' is an emotion."

"I have grown accustomed to the planet."

"And the endless snow and cold? But then you have the nice house with the warm lights." She grinned at him.

"I am fortunate in that."

"You don't know how much." She took another sip of her coffee. They came to the end of the hallway, with corridors branching off in either direction. She chose the left one.

"Do you know where you are going?"

She grinned again. "Does it matter if I don't?" When he did not follow her, she turned and said, "I have you with me. You won't let me get lost."

He raised an eyebrow. "And how do you know that?"

She seemed to consider it. "I just do." Then she smiled and he realized it was the smile she had worn when he saw her talking with the other officer in the hallway. "Come on. Or are you bored with me already?" Her expression held no rancor, just amusement at his reluctance. "Live on the edge."

"The edge of what?" he asked, even as he moved to follow her.

"I don't know." She shrugged. "I never really thought about it." They walked in silence for a moment, then she asked. "Is your tour up soon?"

He nodded. "Soon."

"What's on the horizon?"

"I am unsure." He still had not decided what he wanted to do next. Such indecisiveness was unusual for him.

She looked amazed. "Really? I would have figured you for a planner. Right down to what you're going to eat for breakfast this time next year."

"I generally eat the same thing."

"Well, there you go." She stopped to peer in the small window of a lab marked 'Off Limits.'

"Doctor," he said warningly.

She laughed. "Well, they shouldn't put a window in and then say it's off limits. It's like putting a 'Don't Touch' sign on something. Makes you just want to go right up and poke it." She saw his expression. "Makes me want to go right up and poke it, anyway."

"What was in the room?"

She laughed. "You tell me not to look, but you want to know what was in it?"

He nodded. "The knowledge, however ill-gained, is now yours. There is no logic in keeping it from me."

She laughed. "The damn thing was empty." She stopped at the end of the corridor, had to pick a direction, and chose left again. He realized she was taking them back to the junctions of their respective wings, and suspected she knew the layout of the institute better than she had let on. When they reached the turn for her wing, she said, "Well, this is my stop."

He felt a small frisson of regret. It had been a long time since he had enjoyed talking to another person. "Perhaps we could continue this discussion after the concert tonight. The symphony is performing 'The Four Seasons.' We could attend together."

"I'm already going with someone."

"Ah." He nodded. "Then I hope you enjoy your evening." He turned away.

"Maybe we could have lunch someday?"

He turned back. "I do not eat lunch."

Her smile was resigned. "Of course not." This time she turned to go.

"You could join me for dinner. At my house."

She grinned. "The one with the warm lights and the pretty plants?" At his nod, she said, "I'd like that."

"Perhaps tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow is good." She pointed down the hall. "I'm in C33."

"I will collect you at 1800."

She nodded, then with a last smile, turned and walked down the corridor. Illogically, he watched her until she disappeared into her office. Fortunately, she did not notice.

------------------------------------

Christine looked up as Linda Johnston peeked into her office. "I'm finishing," she said before the other woman could get on her case for losing track of time.

"You better be. If you don't hurry it up, we'll be sitting with Carl."

"I don't think he'll be bothering me again." She thought of the way Spock had dismissed him and smiled. "Besides, I saw him hitting on that new lieutenant. The pretty Deltan one."

"All Deltans are pretty, Chris. And aren't they sworn to celibacy when they enter Star Fleet."

"You know that, and I know that, but I'm betting Carl doesn't."

Linda laughed. "Well, let's not tell him. It'll be fun to watch."

As they walked down the hall to the auditorium, they peeked into the cafeteria. The Deltan in question was busy fending off the eager Carl.

Linda laughed softly. "You gotta give him credit. What he lacks in character, he makes up for in consistency."

"You're right. And he's open about it. No secrets there."

"Speaking of secrets, what gives with you and Captain Spock?"

Christine immediately bristled, then saw that the other woman wasn't teasing her, was honestly curious. "Nothing gives. Why?"

"That man has been here a year and, apart from professional conversations, I have never seen him really talk to anyone. Yet, I saw you and him walking in the hall today, talking away. And he looked like he was enjoying the conversation. And so did you." Linda leaned in. "There are at least half a dozen people here that have horrible crushes on him, you know. They'd love to know your secret."

"I served with him, Linda. Off and on for about six years. On the Enterprise."

"God, under Kirk? I didn't realize you were a member of that club."

Christine laughed. "A peripheral member at best."

"I think it's a lifetime deal. And you sure didn't seem peripheral to Spock. At least not from where I was standing."

"Then you were standing in the wrong place," Christine said, as they found seats in the rear of the auditorium.

"But you're friends?"

Christine didn't know how to answer that. Fortunately the lights dimmed and saved her from having to come up with a response. But she found herself trying to answer the question anyway, as she settled in to enjoy the music. What was she doing? Hadn't she had enough of chasing after Spock to last a lifetime? Yet they seemed to be connecting, enjoying each other. And that could be good. Especially since she had no intention of chasing after him. She wasn't that woman anymore. She just wanted to be his friend.

Didn't she?

She was still attracted to him. She thought she probably always would be. But, as Linda had said, she wasn't the only one. He was a compelling man. Attractive...as much for his disinterest as anything else. That old gothic hero, brooding and silent and mysterious. The one that always secretly fell hard and fast for the heroine. Except that's not how it ever really happened, and Christine knew that. If nothing else, she had grown up. She might find him attractive, but she wasn't going to go all gooey-eyed over him. If they became friends, that was fine.

And she was making too much of this, anyway. It was just dinner. She probably would be dreadfully uncomfortable and never want to repeat it.

The audience erupted in applause, surprising her. She had been woolgathering, had missed most of 'Spring.' It figured, she thought with a smile, she'd miss the best season of all. Why couldn't she have waited to drift off during 'Winter.' As 'Summer' started, she resolved to pay attention to the rest of the concert and resolutely put Spock out of her mind.

When the concert ended, Linda pointed down the aisle. "That's Commander Paul Burrows. He always goes to the pub after the concert. We could tag along, if you don't mind?"

"You like him?" Christine asked with a sly smile.

"Not for me, silly. I'm shipping out in a week, remember?"

Christine pouted. "I can't believe you're leaving."

"You'll be back on earth too before you know it. Now, check him out quick and tell me if you want to go."

Christine glanced down the aisle. The man in question was exactly her type. Hell, he was anyone's type...gorgeous, tall, built. She looked at Linda. "You're not with him?"

Her friend made a dismissive face. "I was, but it was a casual thing. You need that to pass the time around here. And he's a great guy. You'll see. I officially leave him to you."

"I don't know." Christine saw Burrows watching them. He really was appealing. "All right."

"Great." Linda got up quickly and hurried over to where he waited for them. She gave Burrows a quick kiss on the cheek, then introduced them, "Paul Burrows, this is Christine Chapel."

His dark eyes seemed to sparkle when he smiled, and Christine decided she liked the way the expression made the skin around his eyes crinkle into well-established lines. "Does this mean you're going to the pub?" he asked.

Linda shook her head, "Christine is. I've got an experiment that needs tending. See you guys. Have fun." She hurried off.

Burrows laughed. "Wow. That was subtle."

"I'm sorry. If you wanted to spend time with her...?"

He shook his head. "It's as if Linda's already back on Earth. I'm afraid she has no further use for me." He put on a wounded look, but his grin didn't fade. Christine realized that his relationship with her friend was indeed only a casual one.

"So this pub is good?" she asked.

"Well, it's good for Prevalus. I'm not sure that's saying much. You game?"

She nodded. As they walked to the entrance to trade their inside shoes for boots, she said, "Sometimes I wish I could just walk out the door, not have to stop for this nightly ritual."

"I know. But after a while, you won't even notice. It'll be second nature."

Outside didn't seem quite as cold as it usually did. "Is it my imagination or is it warmer?"

"Oh this is one of our balmy summer days, or didn't you realize?"

"This is as warm as it gets?"

He nodded, kicking an ice boulder off the path to the pub as he said, "It's never warm here, Christine. Once you accept that, you'll finally start to settle in." He led her into the building. It was very large, very noisy, and filled with scientists from the institute. She saw Carl and hoped he wouldn't see her. Fortunately, he was still working on the Deltan and didn't even look up as they found a table near the bar.

"What's your poison?" a waitress asked with a smile.

Burrows ordered an ale and Christine followed suit. She settled back in her chair.

Burrows leaned forward, his smile growing as he said, "So, Linda thinks we'll hit it off, I take it?"

"I guess so," Christine said, waiting for the server to set their drinks down before saying. "She likes me, she likes you, she's leaving...I think as far as she's concerned, it's simple math."

"Is that what you think it is?"

"Math wasn't my best subject," Christine joked. When he smiled, she said, "There was a time in my life when I used to think it was all that simple. That time has come and gone." She saw his smile fade a bit. "Sorry. I guess that's not what you want to hear."

"It's not that. It's just...it gets cold here at night. It's nice to have someone to hold." He laughed. "It's this place. I think once you've been here a while, you forget the preliminaries and just cut to the chase. I guess we've lost something?"

She reached out, touched his hand. "No. You're just honest about it. Nothing wrong with that." She took a sip of her ale. "I'll try to be honest too. My apartment is always cold and it would be nice to have someone to hold. But I'm afraid that it would be a complication I don't need."

"I'm not looking for complications." He smiled winningly. "Just some fun."

"But that's the thing. While I don't want a complication... I don't want just some fun either." She laughed softly. "Makes no sense, I know."

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