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)
2013 by Djinn. This story is Rated R.
Give Them Always a Place to Cry and Never a
Reason to Need It
by Djinn
You
are back on the ship. This ship you
have already left twice. You are
back because you donÕt know who you are anymore. Once a nurse, then a doctor, then
Emergency Ops, now...what? You have
lost yourself.
And
you have lost your parents. They
seemed still young and you thought they had more time. But they went one after the other. Your mother from a
flitter accident. Your father from a broken heart—or so it seemed. He just...quit living. Dead on his feet long before he stopped
breathing.
They
loved each other so much. No one
has ever loved you like that.
You
wander the ship at night. Len has
put you on Alpha shift even though it would make more sense for you to have
Beta or Gamma, but you think he has figured out how adrift you are. You think he wants to keep an eye on
you.
He
offered you an ear the second week you were here. A drink and no
judgment.
But
you arenÕt ready for that. YouÕre
barely alive right now—burned out from years at Ops. Grieving, even if youÕve told only Nyota
why. ItÕs not a secret,
though. Anyone could find it if
they wanted to look. ÒParents
deceasedÓ it will say in your file.
The system would have received the information on their deaths and
updated your file automatically.
Losing both of them may even have triggered something in your psych
file—just before you took Kirk up on his offer, you had a visit from a
Starfleet shrink.
Fortunately,
you know how to game the system.
You didnÕt minor in psychology for nothing.
YouÕve
minored in many things. Studied and
tested out of things and excelled.
If only life were as easy as school, if you could test out of it. If only you could collect degrees for
adjustment and flexibility and ability to roll with the punches—maybe
then youÕd do better right now at all those things. If there were a prize
to be had, a rolled parchment at the end of the road.
But
there is no prize and you are not doing well.
And
you are wandering the ship again.
You hear footsteps behind you and you realize someone is keeping pace
with you.
You
turn to stare at them—youÕve learned that behavior in Ops, the ability to
be ballsy, to face down someone—and see it is Spock. ÒSir?Ó
He
does not say anything, just joins you and then gently turns you, gets you going
back in the direction you were originally heading. You wonder what he read from that brief
touch—did he read anything?
Why
is he here? You have never seen him
strolling along the corridors just for the hell of it, but he is walking next to
you, unhurried, saying nothing.
You
glance at a chrono on the wall monitor, note the
time, and when you pass the next one, seven minutes have gone by. With no words. With him simply walking close, but not
too close, to you.
His
support is clear. But support for
what?
The
old you would think perhaps his death has left him open to new things. But the new you knows
better. If he is here with you, it
is probably because he is concerned that you are not at one hundred percent.
That you are a danger to the ship.
If
he transfers you off, you do not know what you will do.
You
take a deep breath, then murmur, ÒPleasant night for a walk.Ó
ÒIs
it? Your state of mind seems far
from relaxed.Ó Apparently he could
read quite a lot from that touch.
ÒDoctor McCoy is worried about you.Ó
ÒBut
you arenÕt.Ó You turn and smile at
him. ÒOr youÕd be sending me to the
counselor—or getting my transfer arranged.Ó This, too, is Ops behavior. Face your greatest fear head
on—find the scenario thatÕs most likely and turn it on its goddamn head.
You
were good at Ops. Even if it ate
you alive and then spat out this little bit that now roams the corridors for no
good reason.
ÒI
know what itÕs like to feel broken.Ó
He says it so evenly that there is no judgment in it.
You
did not expect this—this honesty.
Or for him to give you something so personal.
ÒWhen
were you broken?Ó You know of
course. After he died. Possibly after Gol
when VÕger inserted all the emotion into an
emotionless husk. But you want to
hear him talk—you want to hear him talk to you.
YouÕve
known him half a lifetime and never exchanged more than a few words unless it
was for work.
ÒThe
re-fusion process left me disoriented.
Left me struggling to put the pieces of myself together. And there was a sense of...wrongness to
being alive again.Ó
ÒYou
were dead. Then you werenÕt. That doesnÕt happen, not unless youÕre
only dead for a few minutes.Ó
He
nods. ÒIt was more than that. I was...ready, in some sense, to make
the sacrifice that I made. It was
my time and I could see that—and I accepted that. I put my katra in Leonard and did what I
had to do.Ó
You
wonder why he is telling you this.
He would not do it just to share deep feelings. There is a way he believes this relates
to you.
Oh. The mission at the Fonnelli Colony. When you survived—but just
barely—and most of your team didnÕt.
It was right before you transferred to the ship. Does he think it left you broken?
You
were lucky. You didnÕt die, not
like he did. You werenÕt resurrected, only able to duck when ducking could save your
life. You were injured and dirty
when they found you, but nothing they couldnÕt fix, unlike the bodies lying near you.
Bodies
were a way of life in emergencies.
You donÕt tell him this, though, because unless youÕve lived it, you
canÕt possibly understand how a person can almost not see them anymore. Can will yourself
to ignore, to not cry, to not feel.
Why
canÕt you ignore your parentÕs death?
They are just bodies, too.
Why do you feel as if youÕre mourning for yourself as well?
Again, the Ops persona surfaces. ÒIÕm not sure I get where youÕre going
with this, Spock.Ó
ÒI
am not going anywhere. I am
sharing.Ó
ÒOh.Ó You process that. ÒWhy?Ó
ÒBecause
you are in pain. You seem...lost. And I can resonate if I call up that
time—it is the closest thing I can find.Ó
ÒIÕm
not lost for the same reasons, though.Ó
You realize the better counter would have been saying youÕre not lost at
all. YouÕve as much as admitted
youÕre compromised now.
ÒExplain.Ó He does not seem to care that you have
admitted it. But then if he
believes youÕre lost, you are
lost. His belief is his reality.
ÒMy
parents died.Ó
ÒYes,
I saw that in your file. I grieve
with thee.Ó
ÒThatÕs
an odd saying, Spock. When youÕve
never met the people who died. When
you barely care about the person who lost them. Will you really grieve with me? Or are you just sorry for my loss?Ó
ÒYou
wish to debate cultural norms for expressing condolence?Ó He moves closer to you. ÒOr to berate me for never having let
you in?Ó
Okay,
that was more honest than you expected.
YouÕll be blunt right back.
ÒBoth, I think. And to ask
why you are doing this—itÕs not just that you never let me in, but now
you seem to think IÕll let you in.
Why? Because I
love—loved you?Ó
ÒYour
change of tense is telling.Ó
ÒYour
ability to read into things is, too.Ó
He
sighs, the sound filling the empty corridor he has somehow steered the two of
you into. It amazes you that in a
ship this well staffed, there are still corridors like this, where you can walk
and not run into anyone.
ÒHowever
you wish me to say it, Christine, I am sorry for your loss.Ó
ÒThank
you.Ó You yawn, and you know he is
wondering why you are not in bed if you are tired. ÒSleep is an enemy sometimes.Ó
ÒElaborate.Ó
You
are getting tired of his one-word dictates. ÒNo.Ó
He
stops, puts his hand out to stop you.
ÒIf you would prefer, you can talk to a counselor about this.Ó
You
glare at him; it has no effect.
ÒWhy not just refer me immediately?
YouÕre hardly qualified to deal with me.Ó
ÒI
wish to help you.Ó
ÒWhy?Ó
ÒBecause
when my personality was reintegrating, when I was recovering my memories, you
figured prominently.Ó He cocks his
head and studies you. ÒYet I could recall
no long conversations. It appeared
that I barely knew you. Yet...there
you were in my mind.Ó
ÒProbably
because youÕd filed me away as a port in the storm in case the Pon Farr struck and you found yourself partnerless.Ó You can see that comment does not make
him happy.
His
mouth tightens and his eyes narrow.
ÒI do not believe that is why.Ó
ÒWell,
it certainly wasnÕt love, Spock. Maybe just lust.
I made it very clear over the years that I was willing to give you just
about anything.Ó You turn and walk
away from him.
He
catches up in just a few strides.
ÒWhy else are you sad?Ó
ÒA
set of dead parents isnÕt enough for you?Ó
ÒI
understand that losing one parent, let alone both, can leave you
depressed. But I do not think that
would cause you to be so adrift professionally.Ó
ÒIÕm
tired.Ó ItÕs out before you can
call it back.
ÒAnd
yet you do not sleep?Ó
ÒNot
that kind of tired.Ó Although you
think you could sleep for days if you just let yourself. Instead you stay up too late and then get
up and start your day sleep deprived.
ÒYou
are exhausted. I felt it when I
touched you. If I touched you now,
I would feel it again. Are you
having nightmares? Is that why you
said sleep is the enemy?Ó
ÒNo. IÕm just...Ó Just what? A mess? At a crossroads? Wondering what the hell youÕve done with
your life—being back on the ship after all this time, working in sickbay.
He
waits for you to finish what you were saying. When you donÕt, he doesnÕt seem to mind,
just says, ÒI followed you because I would like to propose an idea.Ó
You
glance at him. By the seriousness
of his face, you donÕt think heÕs going to proposition you. ÒOkay, letÕs hear it.Ó
ÒYou
have served in sickbay for too long.
There is a science billet coming up that is appropriate for your
experience and rank. I suggest you
transfer out of Medical. I believe
you will find life more stimulating if you are not doing a job that is in a
section you have already left twice.Ó
You
blink. This is not what you were
expecting. ÒWhose billet is it?Ó
ÒCommander
CarsonÕs. She is being reassigned
to the Maxilla Array.Ó
ÒOh. I didnÕt know.Ó YouÕve always thought the section she
worked in looked interesting—more like what you used to do when you were
first working with Roger.
Theoretical stuff.
Things
you canÕt do in your sleep.
ÒHave
you talked to Len about this?Ó
ÒI
have. He is not happy to lose his
deputy so soon after appointing you, but he will not oppose it. As I said, he is worried about you.Ó
You
should think about this. You should
talk to Len about this. You should
at least get some goddamned sleep before you say anything. But you donÕt. ÒYes.Ó
ÒYes?Ó He sounds as if he thought it would take
much more convincing to get you to take the spot.
ÒYes. ItÕs a good idea. Thank you.Ó
ÒYou
are welcome.Ó He turns you and
again gets you walking, moseying alongside you.
ÒIsnÕt
your work here done?Ó
ÒIt
is.Ó He does not look at you, but
you think he knows you are staring at him.
ÒSo,
youÕre going to walk the corridors with me?Ó
ÒI
am.Ó He finally looks over. ÒUnless that idea is unpleasant.Ó
You
are not sure if it is or not.
YouÕve wanted him for so long.
You used to fantasize about all the ways you might spend time with him.
This
was never on the list.
ÒHave
you ever been burned out, Spock?Ó
The question comes out almost against your will, but once it is out, you
feel a sense of relief.
ÒI
have not. But I believe Vulcans are
far more accustomed to doing the same thing over and over.Ó He seems to frown slightly. ÒBut that is not why you are burned out,
is it? Not the repetition, but the
stress.Ó
You
nod. ÒAnd the death. The days where
no matter how hard you try, you make no damn difference to anyone. We were there to help people—to
make things better—but we often didnÕt.Ó
ÒIs
that why you went back into medicine?
To...make things better? To
help people?Ó
You
laugh softly. You didnÕt think about
it this consciously, but that is no doubt exactly why you went back into a job
you didnÕt really want to return to.
YouÕd still have bodies around, but youÕd be trying to save them, not
walking by them because there was nothing more left to do. ÒDyingÕs made you insightful.Ó
ÒNo,
Christine, dying made me dead.
Dealing with the repercussions of being brought back to life gave me
whatever insight I may have into this.Ó
You
smile. The first
real smile of the night—possibly of the week. ÒI stand corrected.Ó
##
You
are happier now, in this science billet Spock has found for you. There were other people hoping to get
in—one of the other scientists told you that. You think possibly one of the people who
lost out was his friend, that he is trying to make you
feel guilty that you got the job from association.
He doesnÕt know very much about you if he thinks you will.
YouÕve
filed this incident away in your memories.
ItÕs good to remember who made you feel unwelcome. Not for vengeance, but for how you deal
with them in the future. This man
will always be suspect, even if you smile and act like you are fine with him.
Mostly,
you ignore him and focus on your own work—and it is your own work, not
the crisis de jour, and you are only now realizing how much you have missed
that, the feeling of ownership, of being able to plan long-term rather than
just react.
You
havenÕt felt this excited about science since you first studied with Roger.
You
often lose yourself in the lab; hours go by and you forget to eat. YouÕve done that again tonight, and you
look around and realize only two people are left in the room.
Two
people who start to pack up their things when Spock comes in and takes a seat
at his station. YouÕve seen this
happen before. No one wants to be
in there when heÕs working after hours.
Probably because it gets a little more rowdy after hours—if by
rowdy you mean its dull cousin. But
no one wants to be yelling across the room or smuggling in a beer when the
First Officer is in the room.
You
watch him as he works. He stopped
being the First Officer to you a long time ago. Not that you donÕt fully realize that
heÕs your superior in rank, but you just donÕt feel that sense of...wariness
you think the others do. Or maybe
you just donÕt care at this point—what more could you do to embarrass
yourself with this man?
He
looks up when the other two leave, sees you watching, and lifts an
eyebrow. ÒThey do that whenever I
come in.Ó
ÒNo
one wants to work with the boss watching, I guess.Ó You smile and go back to your
experiment.
ÒYou
are thriving here?Ó He can see you
are, but you like that he asks.
ÒI
am. Thank you for suggesting it.Ó
ÒI
am pleased.Ó
You
turn to look at him. ÒIn a professional
way, you mean?Ó
His
lips tick up a little. ÒYes. And also in a personal one.Ó
You
laugh. ÒTwo for one, then.Ó You turn back around.
ÒAre
you planning on spending time on Dalisha?Ó He is talking about shore leave, and it
amuses you because he is speaking loudly enough for you to hear him across the
room rather than coming over. Would
the others relax around him if they knew he could act like a normal person, not
just the impeccable Vulcan officer?
You
get up—your back could use a break—and walk over to his
station. ÒI donÕt think so. IÕm not really in the mood these days
for endless shopping and drinking.Ó
You play with one of his padds, pushing it around the table, and he does
not tell you to stop. ÒWhy?Ó
ÒThere
is a restaurant on the western continent.
A place not usually visited by outworlders. I discovered it some years ago. It serves excellent food and the host
hires skilled musicians to play in a courtyard.Ó
You
think it sounds like a romantic place to eat. You donÕt say that, of course. ÒSounds nice.Ó
ÒIf
you would like to accompany me...?Ó
ÒTo
a place where the food is good and thereÕs music playing while we eat?Ó You start to smile, canÕt stop it from
growing broader as you think about it.
ÒSounds like a date, Spock.
You might want to rethink.Ó
You go back to playing with the padd.
ÒI
have no wish to rethink. And there
will be no drinking or endless shopping, so I think it meets your criteria for
things to not do while on shore leave.Ó
Again the slight uptick of his lips—youÕre finding it a very
appealing expression.
ÒWhy?Ó
ÒWhy
ask you to accompany me?Ó
You
nod and donÕt look up from the table, from watching the padd as you push it
around.
He
reaches over and stops your hand.
ÒBecause I wish to.Ó
ÒWhy
do you wish to?Ó Your voice is so
soft you donÕt think a human would have heard you.
ÒBecause,
as I told you, you were present in my thoughts as my personality
re-formed. And I find I wish to
spend time with you.Ó He moves his
hand off of yours. ÒDo you no
longer wish to spend time with me?
Once you would have found it most agreeable.Ó
ÒItÕs
not that. IÕm not exactly good
company these days. Not sure IÕll
be much fun.Ó
ÒHow
much fun do you think I expect to have, Christine?Ó
You
laugh because it is ironic: heÕs not known as the cut-loose king.
You
nod.
ÒIs
that a yes?Ó
You
nod again.
ÒExcellent.Ó He takes the padd from under your
fingers. ÒI am sorry to deprive you
of your toy, but I need this.Ó
You
smile because the way he has said that is so light. It strikes you that Spock might be a
lighter person than you right now.
Life
is so weird.
##
You
sit with Spock in the restaurant he told you about. The food is delicious, just as he said,
and the music is lovely but not overpowering. You and Spock can talk all you want and
hear each other just fine.
The
trouble is, you canÕt think of anything to talk to him about, other than
science, and you think you might owe him something more personal given heÕs
invited you to eat with him. For
the old you, this would be a huge moment.
For
the you who barely remembers how to be happy, it is
just a nice thing.
ÒWere
your parents happy together?Ó he asks you.
ÒThey
were. But they were passionate
people—they fought a lot.Ó
You look away. ÒThey... Have you ever seen two people so in love
they needed nothing else?Ó
ÒI
do not believe I have.Ó
ÒWell,
they were like that. They fought,
they made up. They had each other
and that was their whole world.Ó
ÒBut
when you were born, surely their world expanded?Ó
ÒNot
everyone makes great parents, Spock.
Their world didnÕt expand. I
was...this other thing in their life.
Something they made, were responsible for, but had little interest in.Ó
ÒYou
have always been lonely, then?Ó
You
are surprised that is where he goes with your statement. Although heÕs right: that is a core
truth of your life. ÒYes. Always.Ó You are not sure why you are telling him
this. It may be a core truth, but
it is one you donÕt share with others.
ÒI guess it explains some of my choices.Ó
ÒI
can see how it would have made Doctor Korby an attractive choice. Was he a father figure at some
point—as an advisor?Ó
You
nod. He was exactly that. Until he saw you as more—until you
made him see you as more.
ÒI
am unsure, however, how I fit into your pattern. I have been neither nurturing nor in
your direct chain of command.Ó
You
laugh softly. ÒYou were cold and
disinterested. Roger started out
that way. I had to win him over,
too. Only he actually was won
over. You—you never did fall
for me.Ó
Spock
lifts an eyebrow. ÒAre you certain
of that?Ó
You
laugh again, not sure if he is kidding but amused either way. ÒFor you, dying may have made you more
open to me. For my father, my
motherÕs death left him...so alone.
I tried to reach out to him, but...Ó You realize you are about to cry
and stop talking.
ÒDid
you think he would finally be open to you?Ó
ÒYeah,
but I thought wrong. He only needed
her. And when she was gone, he died
of a broken heart. The diagnosis
was something more prosaic, but thatÕs what it was.Ó
ÒI
am sorry. I know what it is like to
not be close to a parent.Ó
ÒBut
you have your mom, right? YouÕre
close to her?Ó
He
nods. ÒNot as close as she would
like, I think. I try too hard to be
Vulcan when I am around her.Ó
ÒBecause
your father is watching?Ó
He
nods. ÒSometimes I feel as if all
of Vulcan is watching.Ó
ÒThatÕll
teach you to die and be reborn when you were famous already.Ó You smile, are surprised to see his lips
form a real, if tiny, smile.
ÒIndeed.Ó
ÒI
have no idea what that feels like.
To be so exposed—so on trial, or thatÕs how IÕm reading what
youÕre saying.Ó
ÒAs
judgment is assumed, on trial is apt.Ó
ÒAt
least youÕre connected to something.
I feel like I could disappear and very few people would care.Ó
ÒI
would care.Ó
You
meet his eyes, try to read whatÕs there, why heÕs
suddenly so interested in you.
There are no answers in his expression. He is here, though, because he wants to
be. You are here with him because
he also wants that. It is pointless
to seek the reasons; perhaps you should just enjoy what you have always wanted?
It
figures you would get what youÕve always wanted at a time when you are floundering
and have no idea what to do with it.
ÒThe
Christine I used to know would have wanted to pursue my statement.Ó
ÒYou
never knew me, Spock.Ó You smile
tightly, even though he is right.
The Christine you were would have wanted to know all the reason why he
cared. And what he planned to do
about it. She would be flirting
with him, working the connection heÕs started.
You
do not know that you want to do that.
ÒI
would like to get to know you.Ó His
voice is matter of fact, as if he is talking about anything, not something that
makes him uncomfortable.
ÒThereÕs
not much left to get to know.Ó More
honesty. Why are you doing this?
ÒI
do not believe that. You have
changed. You are going through a
hard time. That does not mean you
are no longer a complete person.Ó
ÒAre
you so sure about that?Ó You busy
yourself with the food, not making eye contact with him.
ÒI
am certain of it.Ó He sighs. ÒIt has been my experience that life has
a way of bringing things—people—together when they are ready.Ó
You
laugh, and you hate how mocking the sound comes out. ÒOr maybe itÕs when theyÕve had a
life-changing experience—death in your instance—and they think they
want to reach out. Because theyÕre
afraid not to.Ó
ÒYou
think I am afraid?Ó His eyebrow nearly
disappears into his hair. ÒBravery
is required to woo you right now, Christine. Not fear.Ó
ÒAre
you wooing me?Ó
ÒI
am.Ó
ÒThat
might be incredibly stupid of you, not brave.Ó
ÒThey
are often one and the same.Ó He
holds up his water glass to you. ÒMay
I propose a toast?Ó
ÒCan
I stop you?Ó
He
ignores you. ÒTo exploring the
options ahead of us. Whatever they
may be.Ó
You
clink your glass to his. ÒYouÕll be
sorry.Ó You are teasing—sort
of.
ÒI
highly doubt that.Ó
##
You
are in the lab, working. Everyone
has left and you are enjoying having it to yourself. You have skipped dinner again, and you
tell yourself that you will work just a few more minutes and then go get
food. But a few minutes turns into
many minutes, then hours, and you still have not eaten.
The
door opens, you hear footsteps, then Spock sidles up behind you—you can
tell itÕs him from the smell of incense and the slight swish of his robe. ÒHave you eaten?Ó
ÒI
will.Ó
His
arm bumps yours and you turn to look at him.
ÒStop
mothering me, Spock.Ó
Mothering—as if youÕd have any idea what thatÕs really like.
ÒI
think you should take a break. It
is time to eat.Ó He looks at the chrono on the wall.
ÒLong past time, to be more accurate.Ó
ÒIÕm
not hungry.Ó Your stomach chooses
that moment to rumble, giving lie to the statement.
ÒChristine.Ó He touches your neck, and you lean back
into his hand before you can think better of it. He rubs gently, and you imagine he is
feeling all sorts of interesting things from you.
ÒWhat
are you sensing when you do that? I
assume thatÕs why you suddenly canÕt keep your hands off me?Ó Your tone is not pleasant.
ÒTo
be honest, I am getting very little from you. You are either highly trained in
shielding, which I doubt, or you are extremely shut down.Ó
ÒDidnÕt
I tell you I was?Ó
ÒIt
is possible I thought you were exaggerating. Many humans say they are shut down but
broadcast with abandon.Ó He rubs
your neck some more and says, ÒLet me in.
Relax.Ó
ÒMaybe
I donÕt want to let you in, Spock.
Has that occurred to you?
You wait all these years to finally get interested, and maybe I donÕt
want that kind of sharing anymore.Ó
ÒDo
you believe that? That you donÕt
want me?Ó He pulls you back against
him and you feel trapped.
ÒStop
it, Spock.Ó
He
lets you go immediately. You wonder
if itÕs because heÕs afraid youÕll make trouble for him or if heÕs finally read
something he doesnÕt like from you.
ÒI
apologize. My mother always says
that my father and I are alike in our determination—and our inability to
know when not to push.Ó
ÒYour
mother is right.Ó
ÒI am sorry for forcing the issue.Ó He moves around so you can see his
face—out of touching range.
ÒConsider dinner. I do not
wish to eat alone.Ó
ÒGo
ask the captain.Ó
ÒWhy
do you never call him Jim?Ó
ÒBecause
heÕs never told me to. WeÕre not
friends. IÕm just one of his
crew.Ó You watch
SpockÕs face as you say this, see his expression
change. ÒWhat?Ó
ÒHe
is worried about you. I believe
itÕs why he wanted you back here, away from Emergency Operations. He was most positive about the change
from a medical billet to a science one.Ó
ÒHeÕd
feel the same way about Sulu or Nyota.Ó
You exhale loudly, hoping heÕll leave you alone. You didnÕt come here to analyze your
life or your relationships—you could have stayed in your quarters to do
that.
ÒI
am confused by your attitude, Christine.Ó
ÒWhat? You thought IÕd fall at your feet in
gratitude? That everything thatÕs
wrong would magically disappear if only you were interested in me? Do you think IÕm that one dimensional
and pathetic?Ó
ÒI
meant none of those things. But you
pursued me for so long that it never occurred to me that you would not now be
interested. I will leave you
alone.Ó He moves away and goes to
his station.
There
is a tension in the room now, and somehow you feel you have hurt his feelings,
which annoys you. How is this your
fault? You never asked him to feel
whatever it is heÕs feeling.
Your
stomach rumbles again.
Damn
it all.
You
get up and walk over to him. You
stand behind him so he canÕt see your face and rub his neck the way he was
rubbing yours. ÒIn Ops, we see so
much. We smell and hear and
sometimes taste so much that we have to shut down. You donÕt survive if you canÕt.Ó
He
leans back slightly into your touch but says nothing.
ÒI
did that. For
several years now. And IÕm
not sure I can open back up. IÕm
not sure I want to feel things that way again.Ó
ÒYou
are not happy the way you are now.
I can feel that through your touch.
You are very far from happy.Ó
ÒAm
I some kind of project to you? Make
Christine happy?Ó
He
reaches up, takes your hands and pulls you slowly—holding on very lightly
in a way that lets you know you could escape at any time—against
him.
You
wrap your arms around his neck and lean in. ÒWhy are you doing this?Ó
ÒBecause
I wish to.Ó He cocks his head to
the side, giving you access to his neck.
You are already resting your chin on his shoulder; it is a small thing
to move enough to kiss his neck.
ÒComputer,
lock doors,Ó he says, then he goes still as you touch
him, as you let your lips slide from his neck to his ear.
ÒWhat
are you getting now?Ó
ÒArousal. Confusion. Desire.Ó
You
pull away. ÒThatÕs a probably a
good summation of what IÕm feeling.Ó
He
moves enough to pull you onto his lap on the stool, and you donÕt fight him
because the stools arenÕt that big and you donÕt want to make you both
fall. You think he will kiss you,
but he doesnÕt. He studies you for
a long time, then he puts his fingers on your face, on the meld points, and
murmurs, ÒGive me permission.Ó
It
strikes you as typically Spock that he would ask by way of a command. You almost rebel, but then see something
in his expression that makes you want to let him in. ItÕs been so long since anyone really
touched you. When you shut down,
you made yourself into an island, in the middle of a huge ocean. Even the lovers youÕve really liked have
barely made waves.
You
loved this man once beyond all reason.
He didnÕt want you and that only made him more attractive.
Was
it because you wanted him to let you in?
Or because he never would and you would never be in danger of being
hurt?
Or
was it that you thought he would love you—if he ever did fall for
you—the way your father had loved your mother. To the exclusion of
all else.
But
that was then and you know better now.
Spock will always love other things: his parents, his captain, possibly
Len, you have never been sure how deep their affection goes under all the
mocking. If they are truly friends
or just friends of the same man and forced to interact because of it.
Spock
is waiting patiently for you to give him permission. His expression has lightened, as if he
is amused by your need to think this through. He has probably always considered you
emotionally spontaneous.
You
were; you are no longer.
ÒNot
tonight,Ó you murmur and he pulls his fingers back as if you have burned
him. ÒI am hungry, though. If you still want to get dinner?Ó
He
nods slowly, and you realize you have surprised him. He expected you to say yes.
ÒIÕm
not saying not ever. Just...not
right now.Ó
His
eyes narrow and he brushes back your hair.
Then he leans in and kisses you.
It
is a quick kiss. Nothing
too demanding. Just his lips touching down on yours and his hand on the back of
your neck, his skin hot against yours. Then he lets go and slides you off his
lap. ÒDinner, then.Ó
You
smile as he stands up and say gently, ÒDonÕt you want to save your work?Ó
He
looks at the terminal as if surprised, then reaches in and saves. ÒI am distracted. You distract me.Ó He sighs. ÒI do not distract you, though, do I?Ó
ÒYou
do. YouÕve gotten further just now
than men who were in my bed for weeks did.Ó
That
seems to make him feel better. He
straightens up, tells the computer to unlock the doors, and leads you off to
dinner.
##
You
are in your quarters, tossing and turning with the
low-grade fever thatÕs come with the Darlevian flu
thatÕs hit the ship. You thought
you might avoid it—youÕve been exposed to so much in Ops—but it
caught up with you. ItÕs not life
threatening, not when youÕre strong and healthy, but it still makes you feel
like a shuttlecraft ran you over and then did it again for the hell of it.
Your
door chime sounds and you say, ÒCome,Ó hoping itÕs Len with a hypo of something
or Nyota with chicken soup. It is
neither. It is Spock and he is
carrying a small bottle of something and a small glass.
ÒYouÕre
half human, Spock. You can catch
this.Ó
ÒI
already have. I have been out the
last two days just as you have.Ó He
comes over to the bed and pulls the cover up, kicking his shoes off and not
asking you if you mind that heÕs sliding into bed with you. ÒAre you coughing?Ó
You
nod. The cough is the worst part. You cannot sleep; the minute you lie
down, the cough starts back up.
ÒThis
is a concoction my mother makes. It
is quite effective.Ó He pours some
into the tiny glass he holds and hands it to you.
It
smells like whiskey. You drink it
and it tastes like whiskey, too.
With honey and lemon and herbs of some kind. ÒSpock?Ó
ÒYes.Ó He takes the glass from you and puts it
and the bottle on your nightstand, then pulls the covers over both of you.
ÒWhy
are you in bed with me?Ó
ÒBecause
I have been sick and do not wish to be alone. Because since I do not wish to be alone,
I am assuming you do not as well.Ó
He pulls you down into his arms.
ÒIf my assumption is a bad one, tell me and I will leave.Ó He rubs your back
as you get comfortable next to him.
ÒI was worried about you. I
wanted to make sure this sickness does not progress to pneumonia or something
worse. That is common, is it not? Secondary infections?Ó
You
nod. That is indeed common. ÒIÕm strong.Ó
ÒYou
are exhausted. You have not been eating
consistently. And psychologically
you are not at your best. You are,
in fact, exactly what a secondary infection would look for in a host. Is that not true?Ó
You
sigh. He is not wrong.
He
kisses your forehead, and you yawn.
ÒShe puts sedating herbs in the cough syrup as well as strengthening
ones,Ó he murmurs.
ÒIÕm
so tired.Ó
He
kisses you again, this time on the mouth, not seeming to care that you probably
donÕt smell your best after having been sick. Then he pulls you in closer, and you roll
to your side and slide your arm around his waist.
ÒThank
you.Ó You close your eyes, are
already so close to drifting off you barely hear him say, ÒYouÕre welcome.Ó
You
wake hours later, and find him still in your bed, covers pulled up
tightly—is he too cold? You
nuzzle his neck and he slowly wakes.
ÒAre you working today?Ó you ask him softly and he nods. ÒThen itÕs time to get up.Ó
He
reaches for the bottle and glass, pours out another dose and hands it to
you. ÒI expect you to take another
day off.Ó
ÒHas
anyone ever told you youÕre incredibly bossy?Ó You drink down the syrup.
ÒYes.Ó He leans in and gives you another kiss,
and as he does it, he runs his hands down your side, his touch incredibly
possessive for someone who has wormed his way into your bed when you are not at
your best.
You
are about to ask him if you said he could do that when he opens his mouth and
his tongue finds yours and you decide the question is moot. You did not tell him he could do this,
but heÕs doing it, and you like it.
You
like it a lot. ItÕs the most youÕve
felt for months now.
ÒWe
have time, if you want to...?Ó You
rub against him to let him know what you are talking about.
ÒWe
do have time—there is no rush, Christine. So I am going to wait.Ó He kisses you again, as if he wants to
show you that he does want you, that this isnÕt like
before. And itÕs the kind of kiss
that leaves you wanting more.
ÒSleep now. Take another
dose in six hours if you need it.Ó
He touches your cheek, then gets out of bed, slips his shoes on, checks
his hair in the mirror, and leaves.
The
pillow smells faintly of his incense, so you hug it to you and let his motherÕs
magic cough syrup send you back to sleep.
##
Spock
does not come to you that night to check on you, but he comes around to your
station the next morning, and his expression seems to lighten when he sees you
working. ÒGood morning. Are you feeling better?Ó His voice is pitched low, only the two
of you can hear what heÕs saying.
ÒI
am. Thank you for...everything.Ó
He
nods. You wonder if he realizes
youÕre including waiting in that list of everything. You would have given him your body, but
youÕre glad now he didnÕt rush, that he feels enough security in your future
that he was willing to say no, not this time.
Then
again, a cynical person could say it was payback for you rejecting the
meld. But you are trying not to be
a cynical person, and he was sweet to you when he held you in bed, so you donÕt
want to think that of him.
ÒI
am gratified you are recovered.Ó He
seems to be searching for more to say, an excuse perhaps to linger, but it is
clear he canÕt think of one, and you canÕt think of much to say either with so
many others around you, so he nods and moves on.
He
stops to talk with several of your colleagues, you notice. CanÕt be seen playing favorites,
although you think he does not deliver cough syrup to them and hold them while
they sleep. At least you hope he
doesnÕt.
When
your shift is over, you go back to your quarters. The cough syrup is still on your
nightstand, so you pick it up and take it down the corridor to SpockÕs
quarters. You imagine he will be
meditating, and when you go in after hearing him say, ÒCome,Ó you find him
sitting cross legged on the floor.
ÒI
brought this back. Do you think
your mom will give me the recipe?Ó
ÒYou
can ask her yourself, if you like?Ó
You
frown. ÒWhen?Ó
ÒNext
month, when we are on Earth for updates to the warp drive. If you would like to come to dinner at
the embassy, I know she and my father will be most pleased.Ó
You
arenÕt sure what to say.
ÒAm
I pushing again?Ó
You
laugh. ÒNo. IÕm just not sure IÕm ready to meet the
parents.Ó
ÒYou
have met my parents.Ó He
frowns. ÒYou know my father well
enough to ask him to testify on JimÕs behalf.Ó
ÒYou
know what I mean. Or maybe you
donÕt. If I go with you, wonÕt that
be sort of as your...Ó
YouÕre unsure how to phrase it. ÒAs someone of importance to you.Ó
ÒI
have never brought a potential mate home, so yes, it will be a momentous
occasion, Christine. There will be
parades and a large band.Ó
ÒSarcasm? YouÕve been hanging around Len, too
much.Ó You smile and walk over to
him. You plan to sit next to him,
but he pulls you down, into his lap.
ÒInteresting meditation technique, Mister.Ó
His
lips go up, a real smile. ÒYou
joked. I am relieved to hear you
are still capable of it.Ó Then he
pulls you closer and kisses you, and this time he is not holding back.
You
kiss him back but when he eases away, you murmur, ÒThat, however, might be
pushing it.Ó
ÒEven
I can tell you enjoyed that.Ó His
eyebrow goes up and it makes you laugh, how the expression can punctuate his
humor. He exhales slowly, runs his
hand over your hair, then says, ÒIs this unwelcome?Ó
ÒYouÕve
just decided IÕm yours, havenÕt you?
No fuss, no muss, no inner struggle. Me want Christine. Me take her.Ó
ÒIf there is someone else you prefer, I will desist.Ó He pulls you close again, but doesnÕt go
the few inches to touch you. ÒIf,
however, there is no one else, then yes, I think you are mine and I suggest you
kiss me. I am tired of going
first.Ó
You
smile. ÒWhat if thereÕs no one
else, but I donÕt want you?Ó
He
runs his fingers up your spine, pressing hard, and watches you intently as he
does it. ÒI think we both know that
is an unlikely scenario.Ó
You
decide to kiss him, if only to stop him from staring at you in that almost
unnerving way. He wraps his arms
around you as you kiss, and then he lifts his hand and settles his fingers on
the meld points. They rest lightly,
and you realize he is waiting for you to give permission.
You
donÕt want to break the kiss, so you reach up and push his fingers more tightly
into your skin. And just like that
he is with you, his mind familiar even though itÕs been years since you shared
consciousness with him.
His
presence is so...warm. He isnÕt
pushing, doesnÕt seem to be doing anything other than hovering at the edges of
your awareness, a deep affection coming from him. Complete acceptance.
You
feel something in you break at the warmth, at the sense of belonging. You pull away and he barely gets out
before youÕre scrambling off his lap.
ÒIt
is too much?Ó He looks
concerned—and a little hurt.
ÒIt
is too much right now. Maybe not in
the future.Ó You feel as if you
will cry and push yourself to your feet and head for the door.
He
is up and to the door before you can open it. ÒChristine, do not run away. I accept that the meld may be too much
for you at this point, but do not run away from everything I offer.Ó
You
want to stay. You donÕt want to
hurt him. You still love him, and
you wish you could tell him that in a way that makes sense, but it barely makes
sense to you. ÒLet me go and IÕll
come back. Force me to stay here
and youÕll lose me.Ó
ÒI
am not forcing you.Ó He sounds
deeply offended.
ÒThen
get out of my way.Ó
He
moves instantly, and you realize he is thinking how he has made the first moves—how
this would look to an inquiry board.
You think you see something like panic—or the
Vulcan equivalent—cross his face.
ÒSpock.Ó You reach out for his hand, hold it
gently. ÒIÕm not going to make
trouble for you. DonÕt go wherever
it is youÕre going.Ó
He
studies you. ÒDo you believe IÕve
forced myself on you?Ó
You
let out a hollow breath, a bitter form of laugh you learned at Ops. ÒIt would be ironic if I did, wouldnÕt
it? After all those years of
chasing you.Ó You pull him down to you, kiss him as fiercely as you can. ÒJust give me time. I love you. IÕm just...IÕm not ready.Ó
He
frowns, and it is a poignant expression given his normal lack of
expression. ÒI wish to help.Ó
ÒYou
are. That may be hard to believe,
but you are.Ó You kiss him again,
more tenderly this time, and he wraps you up in his arms.
When
you donÕt let go, he hikes you up, and you wrap your legs around him and kiss
him the way youÕve always wanted to.
He pushes you against the wall and you can feel how badly he wants you.
Then
he lets you down.
ÒI
will see you tomorrow, Christine.Ó
You
nod and hurry out while you can still think.
##
You
avoid Spock for the next few days.
It would make you laugh if you still had much of a sense of humor that
youÕre doing this. You wanted him
for so long and now you can have him—and youÕre...what? Afraid? Messed up? ItÕs not that youÕre not
interested. YouÕve thought about
him every night when youÕve gone to sleep, have sniffed your pillow to see if
any trace of incense remained.
It
hasnÕt.
It
would be an easy thing to just walk down the corridor to his quarters. To ring for admittance
and then when he answered, to go willingly into his arms, into his bed, into
his life.
ItÕs
what heÕs decided he wants from you.
But
does he even know you? The real you?
The one who canÕt seem to get over losing parents who didnÕt even like
you as far as you could tell. No
matter what you did, no matter how hard you tried, they never noticed you. They left this enormous hole in your
life and you know you never even broke the surface of theirs.
And
how do you know Spock wonÕt go away, too?
ThatÕs one thing you learned in Ops: people die, and heÕs already died
once.
You
shut down for protection in Ops, and it was easier to live that way. Why would you want to open yourself back
up again?
What
if he doesnÕt like you once he gets to know you? And youÕve gone and torn down all your
walls for him?
ItÕs
questions like these that make you avoid him.
Until
you walk into the mess and see a lieutenant commander from xenobiology
hitting on him. You assume thatÕs
what sheÕs doing. You recognize the
stance from your own days of trying to get him to notice you. The open body
language. The
shy smile. The nervous lick
of the lips.
Spock
sees you come in. He lifts an
eyebrow and you almost laugh at how eloquent a plea it is for rescue.
You
probably owe it to him after all the times you did the very same thing to him.
You
stroll up, ease past the woman, and say, ÒIÕm sorry IÕm late, Spock.Ó Then you give him your very best smile,
the one that made unhappy administrators on ravaged worlds do your bidding, and
turn to the woman. ÒIÕm sorry. I donÕt think weÕve met. IÕm Commander Chapel.Ó
ÒLieutenant
Commander Parkinson.Ó The woman is
a pretty thing. Dark
blonde hair. Green
eyes. She is younger than you are,
thinner than you are, too. You can
tell Spock wants nothing to do with her, so you give her the smile that says,
ÒWhy are you still here?Ó and narrow your eyes.
Parkinson
moves on. You think Spock heaves a
sigh of relief—in a restrained, Vulcan way.
ÒGot
a new admirer, huh?Ó
ÒSo
it would seem.Ó
ÒYou
need to quit being so tall, dark, and unfathomable. Then maybe you wouldnÕt collect so many
stalkers.Ó
ÒDid
you not leave out handsome?Ó
ÒCaught
that, did you?Ó You smile and it is
an easy smile to give him. All the
back and forth you have been doing in your head disappears in the face of
hunger and a mission of mercy—you never could resist those, even if
youÕre only rescuing Spock.
ÒSit
with me?Ó His voice is tentative
and you realize he is not sure how long your rescue will last.
ÒI
have to, donÕt I? She might come
back.Ó You move closer and he
moves, too, so your shoulders bump.
ÒMissed me the last couple of days, huh?Ó
ÒI
have. Although it
is illogical to do so. We
have no history to miss, nor have we spent enough time together recently for me
to miss what was.Ó
ÒLoveÕs
funny that way.Ó Shit. Why did you say the L-word?
ÒIt
is indeed.Ó He doesnÕt seem to
pause over his response. He
considers himself in love with you, then.
Not just interested. Not
just in lust. He thinks he loves
you.
The
idea is nice. You lean in again,
and he pushes back. It is subtle,
what you two are doing, but you are doing it in a crowded mess. That, too, is unexpected. And nice.
You
get your food and follow him to a table.
ÒThereÕs a booth left,Ó you murmur, unsure if he will want to indulge
you.
He
changes course, heading for the last booth, even hurrying when it is clear
another pair of crewmen want the booth, too. They see him headed toward it and veer
off. You smile—there are
perks to being with the First Officer.
YouÕve
never had a problem with those kind of perks. Spock apparently doesnÕt have any problem
letting you benefit from his position.
At least not while heÕs still hungry for your body and hasnÕt had the
taste he wants. You wonder if heÕll
be as indulgent once heÕs screwed you a few times.
Although heÕs a Vulcan.
If heÕs being indulgent, heÕll probably stay that way. In all the time youÕve known him, heÕs
been pretty consistent in behavior.
Even his aberrations are consistent when you look at the root cause:
honor a secret or help a friend or both.
ÒThank
you,Ó you murmur as you slide into the seat.
He
takes the opposite seat. ÒYou are
most welcome.Ó
ÒThose
two wanted this booth.Ó
ÒI
am aware of that. I would not have
increased my pace otherwise.Ó
ÒBut
since I wanted it you did?Ó
ÒYes,
since you wanted it.Ó He looks a
little sheepish.
You
smile. ÒDo you even like booths?Ó
ÒI
am agnostic as to the practicality and comfort of these as opposed to
tables. I tend to gravitate to
tables, though, now that I consider it.Ó
ÒBut
you donÕt not like booths?Ó
ÒI
would not have acquiesced to your request if I disliked them. I am of a mind to give you what you
want, but not if it is something I do not enjoy.Ó
ÒGood
to know.Ó You wink at him. It is a very lighthearted thing to do
and you canÕt remember the last time you did it.
He
almost smiles. You think he is
fully aware that youÕve probably not winked at anyone in a very long time.
##
You
are in the rec lounge with Nyota.
The band that is playing old standards is made up of crewmembers who fancy themselves the next big thing. As far as you tell, the only thing they
can lay claim to is being the most out of sync with each other.
ÒCanÕt
you go join them and make them at least stay together on the chorus?Ó You smile at Nyota. ÒThey clearly need a new lead singer.Ó
ÒEven
I canÕt help them, honey.Ó Nyota
rolls her eyes and makes you laugh.
She smiles broadly and you realize you havenÕt laughed very much around
her. ÒSo, I saw you with Spock the
other day in the mess. Something
you forgot to tell me?Ó
YouÕve
left her out of the loop on this.
That, too, is different.
Before you would have spent hours with her deconstructing what he said
and what it meant. Now, youÕre
doing it alone. ÒI think he wants
me.Ó
ÒWell,
itÕs about damn time.Ó Ever since
Ny hooked up with Scotty, she thinks everyone should be paired up and
happy. ÒHow did this start?Ó
ÒCan
we not talk about it?Ó
Her
eyes open wide. ÒWow. Okay. Sure.Ó She studies you. ÒIs it something youÕre ashamed of? Is he doing something to you that—Ó
ÒNo. No.
And in what way is this not talking about it?Ó Your voice comes out harsher than you
mean.
She
holds up a hand. ÒOkay. Sorry.Ó She stirs the ice around in her drink,
then looks up and meets your eyes.
ÒOps changed you, Christine.
And not always for the best.Ó
ÒI
know. Trust me: I do know
that.Ó You reach over, take her
hand, and squeeze it. ÒIÕm just...Ó
ÒReally
fucked up these days.Ó She doesnÕt
look away when you give her a shocked look. ÒWhat? You think I canÕt say that word? Christine, this is what youÕve always
wanted. And you canÕt talk about
it? Or wonÕt? Can you tell me if youÕre with him? You say he wants you—do you still
want him?Ó
Ny
is still weak on the not talking concept.
You take a deep breath and try to hold in the frustration. ÒIÕm not sure.Ó
ÒYouÕre
not... What the hell is wrong with
you? If he wants you—and the
way he was looking at you in the mess was light years from how he used
to—then what is your problem?
The man died, for GodÕs sake.
You lost him.Ó
ÒI
didnÕt lose him. I never had
him.Ó Your voice is bitter.
ÒAnd
that was probably confusing. I know
how I felt when he died and I wasnÕt in love with him. YouÕve loved him for as long as IÕve
known you. And you were never a
part of his life. But you were of SarekÕs—I
heard that you were the one who got him to testify. That must have been odd, being friends
with SpockÕs parents but not him.Ó
You
donÕt answer.
ÒEspecially
when you werenÕt close with your parents.
Sarek is fond of you, isnÕt he?Ó
ÒWhat
are you saying?Ó
ÒNothing
bad. Just that...heÕs the closest
thing youÕve had to a father, maybe?Ó
ÒHeÕs
a friend, not my father.Ó
ÒBut
you look up to him. I know you
do. YouÕve told me you do.Ó Ny leans in. ÒYou could lose him if things with Spock
didnÕt go well.Ó
ÒThatÕs
not why IÕm unsure.Ó
ÒThen
why are you?Ó
ÒYouÕre
right. Spock could die. He could leave me and
what then? I let him in and
I love him and IÕm left with what? A broken heart and nothing else. IÕve been through that. IÕve lived most of my life without love,
Ny. IÕm good at it. But being with someone—when has
that ever ended up happily?Ó
ÒChristine,
thatÕs Roger. Who else have you
been with that you really cared about whoÕs left
you? You were never with Spock.Ó
ÒBut
he died. I still loved him. I still felt it. I donÕt want to feel it again.Ó You take a ragged breath. ÒIt doesnÕt make a lot of sense. I know that.Ó
ÒIt
actually does. In
a really sad way. I think
you picked him to fall in love with because you knew heÕd never love you
back. You could be in love but not
ever have to deal with the loss because youÕd never have him. Am I close?Ó
ÒIt
wasnÕt that calculated. I fell in
love. End of story.Ó
ÒBut
thatÕs why you never moved on, and there have been plenty of men who would have
liked to have had more with you.
You stayed in love with him because it was safe. And because itÕs what youÕre used
to—because your parents were shitty, and they made you feel that you
donÕt deserve love.Ó Ny takes your
hand. ÒAnd I bet with them dying,
it brought it all up again. You
loved them—I know you, you would have loved them because thatÕs what you
do. And that love just hung out
there, unaccepted.Ó
ÒUnwanted. Ny, they never wanted kids. IÕd hear them say that to people when
they thought I wasnÕt around.Ó
ÒIÕm
sorry. You canÕt make them better
at loving you, Christine.Ó
ÒNot
now, thatÕs for sure.Ó
ÒNot
ever. They werenÕt the kind of
people who were going to. And you
have to let go and move on. Because
you are capable of love—I know you are. And there is a man you have wanted
forever who wants you back, and youÕre going to go to his quarters right now
and find out just what youÕve been missing.Ó
You
start to laugh. ItÕs a hell of a
speech. And a
good message for you to hear.
ÒWhatÕs
so goddamn funny?Ó
ÒIÕll
be waiting in the corridor if I go now.Ó
You point to where Spock is sitting with the captain and Len.
ÒOh. Well, once he leaves, then.Ó She starts to laugh. ÒYouÕre gonna
lose all the momentum from my great pep talk, though.Ó
You
smile. ÒIt was a great pep
talk. You could be a motivational
speaker for the lovelorn.Ó
ÒWell,
IÕve had my own epiphany lately on waiting too long. IÕm happy and I want you to be happy.Ó
ÒI
know.Ó You motion the bartender
over. ÒAnother round. On me.Ó
##
YouÕve
looked over at Spock enough times that heÕs caught on that youÕre interested in
what heÕs doing. He gets up, says
something to Len and the captain, and walks over.
Ny
gets up and says, ÒIÕm going to go find Scotty,Ó and you are alone with Spock
at the bar.
ÒSorry. SheÕs the antithesis of subtle.Ó
ÒShe
knows?Ó
ÒKind
of. She figured it out.Ó You pitch your voice lower. ÒShe thinks I should go to your quarters
and find out what IÕve been missing.Ó
ÒI
heartily concur with that.Ó His
expression is light, his eyes very soft.
ÒWhat do you want to do?Ó
ÒI
want to stop being afraid.Ó You
finish your drink and push it aside.
ÒI want to let you in.Ó
ÒI
suggest we leave, then.Ó He waits
for you to get off the stool before he strides off. He is not walking slowly, either.
You
smile, and when he turns around to look at you, you laugh. ÒEager?Ó
ÒYes.Ó
You
decide that Vulcan directness is something you can get used to. You increase your pace and catch up to
him. He stares at the turbolift
doors once you get on, and you murmur, ÒAfraid youÕll spook me if you look at
me?Ó
The
look he turns on you is the louder, bigger cousin of intense.
ÒOkay,
look at the doors. You will spook me.Ó
You rub his back to take any sting out of the words.
He
goes back to his study of the doors.
ÒI want you intensely. Being
denied, having to wait, it has perhaps been good for us.Ó
ÒHas
it?Ó
ÒYes. I will fully appreciate what I share
with you, since I have not been sure it was even within my grasp.Ó
ÒWhat
are the odds IÕd say no to you?Ó
ÒVery
high, from my perspective. If you
thought it was more in my favor, you did not let on.Ó
You
shrug. ÒGirlÕs gotta
maintain her mystery.Ó Then you
bump up against him.
ÒHold
lift.Ó He pulls you into his arms,
pushes you against the wall of the lift, and kisses you in a way that lets you
know the mystery worked. More than
worked. Maybe too much mystery if
the way he is holding you is any indication.
He
kisses you for a long time before he pulls away and says, ÒResume lift.Ó
You
are grinning like a fool as you wait for the doors to open. He glances at you and gives you a stern
look.
ÒWhat? This is my fault?Ó You grin even more and it feels good to
be this light—this happy and excited about something.
He
leads you off the lift—is in fact double-timing it to his quarters and
you have to half-run to keep up. He
palms open the door and lets you in, then pulls you into his arms once the door
has closed behind you.
He
is startlingly efficient, getting your pants off, then his own, and hiking you
up onto him, until—there. You
close your eyes and breathe out, and you think you are letting go of more than
just air, that you are letting go of fear.
You kiss him as he moves inside you, running your hands through his hair
as he says your name, and then, as he comes, he changes to, ÒMine, mine, mine.Ó
No
one has ever wanted you enough to lay claim to you. You hold him as he rests with you up
against the wall, his head nestled against your
shirt. Then he lets you down and
pulls off the rest of your clothes and pushes you to his bed, to lie under him
as he kisses you gently and begins to get to know your body.
Some
parts he gets to know especially well, kissing and licking and sucking until
you are writhing underneath him and calling out his name.
He
smiles, a real smile, as you pull him up to you, as you murmur, ÒI love
you. I still love you. IÕm sorry IÕve been so weird.Ó
ÒAs
we are here now, I am feeling quite sanguine about your past actions.Ó
You
laugh. ÒYouÕre afraid if you agree
IÕve been weird, IÕll leave and you wonÕt get any more sex.Ó
ÒPerhaps.Ó He moves over you, his eyes never
leaving yours, and takes you again, going slower this time, making you moan and
clutch at him, and as he finishes, he closes his eyes and calls out loudly.
You
are not sure youÕve ever seen him lose control before. You love that he is willing to let go
this way with you. When he finally
opens his eyes, you smile, a sweet smile, one that you havenÕt used in a long
time because it belongs to a younger you, a kinder you.
He
seems to understand that. He
touches your lips, tracing your smile, then kisses you
so tenderly it leaves you shaken.
ÒI would have waited much longer for you.Ó
ÒForever?Ó
He
nods.
ÒForever
is a long time.Ó
ÒIt
is. My estimates were slightly more
optimistic than that.Ó His lips
tick up and you laugh at the way it makes him look, how content he seems.
ÒDid
you think it would be tonight?Ó
ÒI did not. I believe I will put
Commander Uhura in for a commendation.Ó
You
laugh, a spontaneous, straight-from-the-gut bark of laughter. He is good for you. Spock with his Vulcan/Human humor is
good for you.
He
rolls off you. ÒWill you come with
me to my parents?Ó
ÒItÕs
important to you, isnÕt it?Ó
He
nods. ÒI want them to know we are
together.Ó
ÒDoes
the captain know?Ó
ÒYes. I have told him I am pursuing you. He is in favor of the match. You must call him Jim.Ó
ÒMaybe.Ó You kiss him gently to let him know that
while he canÕt order you around, you donÕt mind when he tries to do it for your
own good.
You
lie quietly together, and he plays with your hair and scratches your back so
lightly it makes you shiver.
You
turn to look at him. ÒMy parents
were crappy parents, Spock.Ó It
feels strange to say it so definitively.
To not try to soften it or give them an out. ÒI wanted them to be good parents, but
they werenÕt and now they never will be.Ó
ÒI
am sorry.Ó He kisses your forehead,
and you realize that is the most tender kiss he has in
his repertoire. The one that isnÕt
about sex, but is about love, about connection and
understanding. ÒI have struggled
with Sarek as you know, but I was always secure that my mother approved of me
and loved me. I would not want to
imagine a life where I could not be sure of either of them.Ó
ÒIt
wasnÕt good. And losing them...I
guess I always hoped it would be different. That theyÕd come to
their senses. But now
theyÕre gone and they never will.Ó
He
kisses you again, this time on the lips.
ÒI did.Ó
ÒYes,
you did. And itÕs scary for me,
Spock. Opening back up.Ó
ÒI
know.Ó
ÒItÕs
scary, but IÕm willing to do it. Because youÕre not them. And neither am I.Ó You lift his hand to your face. ÒIf you want to, IÕm ready.Ó
He
presses his fingers into the meld points and is with you. You close your eyes and allow yourself
to drift along with him, and when he tentatively moves deeper, you get out of
his way and welcome him.
You
feel overwhelmed for a moment by the emotions he is giving you, but then you
tell yourself to relax. That this
wonÕt hurt. That he wonÕt hurt you.
You
hear him echo back that thought, are unsure if he has spoken it with words or
said it mind to mind. But however
he said it, the reassurance pulses between you.
He
will not hurt you.
You
let go and let him in the rest of the way.
##
You
are walking next to Spock and Jim and Len.
They are headed for a club that is in the same direction as the Vulcan
embassy, so they are tagging along with you.
Len
has been giving you shit about living up to SpockÕs parentsÕ standards. And Jim has been telling him to shut the
hell up.
And
youÕve been laughing and smiling and just enjoying the fact that SpockÕs
friends like you, want you to be with him, and are your friends now, too. Not that Len wasnÕt before, but Jim was
always something separate, and who Len was when he was with Jim never included
you. Now it does.
The
minute Jim told you to call him by his first name, everything changed. At least for you. You realize that things probably didnÕt
change that much for him, that he did consider you a friend, that he did rescue
you when he talked you out of Ops and back onto the ship—with the help of
Len. That there
are people who care for you without ever being family.
Because youÕve had no luck with family to date.
You
hit the place where Jim and Len turn off, and Len says, ÒBreak a leg,
Christine,Ó and Jim gives you a grin and rolls his eyes at Len.
And
then it is just you and Spock. And
he looks over at you and almost smiles, and you feel the warmth that he gives
you, that has filled you since you let him in with the meld.
Since
you quit fighting what was happening.
He
stops just before you get to the embassy and turns to you. ÒI love you.Ó
It
is the first time he has told you that.
You smile and say, ÒI love you, too.Ó
ÒI
want you to know that. Before we go
in. My father sometimes makes
me...Ó
ÒAngry?Ó
ÒYes. Unfortunately. I will hide it, but I may shut down
some. I do not want you to think it
is about you in any way. I am proud
of you. I am happy with our relationship. And I love you.Ó
ÒYouÕre
incredibly nervous, arenÕt you? Do
you want me to head down to the club with Jim and Len, and you can say I got
sick or something?Ó
ÒNo. I will persevere.Ó He starts walking. ÒAt any rate, you must not think my
parents will disapprove of you. My
father has been your advocate for some time. If anything, he is disappointed I took
this long to realize he was right.Ó
You
laugh. ÒKiss of death. Approval of parents.Ó
ÒOn
the contrary. I am pleased they are
in favor of our relationship.Ó He
looks at you, a strange expression on his face.
ÒWhat?Ó
ÒYou
are closer to my father than I am.
I have, at times, been jealous of the easy way you interact with him.Ó
ÒI
wasnÕt aware you even knew I did interact with him.Ó
ÒI
knew. It was ironic in some ways,
given the nature of our relationship.
Yours and mine, and mine and SarekÕs.Ó
You
want to take his hand and squeeze it.
Settle for a shoulder bump instead.
ÒIÕm sure my father would have liked you better than me, if itÕs any
consolation. He was a
mathematician.Ó
ÒSo
you are saying my father does prefer you to me?Ó His tone is light and he bumps up
against you.
ÒYou
know what I mean.Ó You smile and
see the embassy, follow him up the stairs and past the guards.
Amanda
is waiting in the salon, beams when she sees you both. ÒThere you are.Ó
She
gives Spock a hug, and you notice he hugs her back with more freedom than you
think she is expecting judging from the surprise on her face. Then she takes your arm. ÒOh, my dear, we are so happy youÕre
here.Ó She leads you off, grilling
you in a subtle way about how you ended up with her son.
You
can feel how much she cares for Spock, can feel how much she cares for you even
now—and itÕs more than your own mother ever did. You sigh and push that thought aside.
Your
parents were shitty. Ny had it
right. Let it go.
You
see Sarek up ahead. He nods at you,
his eyes lightening, and then he looks at Spock. You think Spock is wrong if he believes
his father does not love him. There
is a look that you recognize because youÕve seen it in the mirror. The look of constant
misunderstanding.
Amanda
lets you go and waits for Spock to catch up, and you move on to Sarek. You smile and say, ÒFor once thereÕs no
crisis for me to bother you with.Ó
He
says, ÒIt is never a bother, Christine.Ó
Then he looks at Spock. ÒMy
son.Ó
ÒFather.Ó
You
could cut the tension with a butter knife.
You take SarekÕs arm, smile up at him, and say, ÒSpock is so pleased
that you approve of me. HeÕs very
sorry he didnÕt listen to you all those times you talked me up.Ó
Surprise shows on SarekÕs face, then it is gone and he says to
Spock, ÒEverything happens in its own time, my son.Ó
Even maybe their relationship. They love each other. You can tell that. They both care.
They
are light years ahead of the relationship you had with your parents. Even if they donÕt get on the way they
might like. At least they arenÕt
ambivalent.
You
let go of Sarek and move closer to Spock.
Your shoulders bump gently and you smile.
ÒWill
you have some wine, my dear?Ó
Amanda is holding up a bottle with a hopeful look on her face, and you
smile and nod, giving her the reason she needs to open the bottle. She pours you a glass, hands it to you
with a wink and a mouthed, ÒThank you.Ó
You
nod and sip the wine, which is excellent.
You feel yourself calming, even as Sarek and Spock start to
argue—discuss, theyÕd probably say.
It is something about a recent treaty that Sarek negotiated. They are soon lost in the details and
you give up trying to follow them.
You think if theyÕd both stop talking and start listening, theyÕd realize
they are arguing the same thing.
You
smile at Amanda, and she grins back.
ÒFamily,Ó she says, rolling her eyes.
ÒFamily,Ó
you say, happy to finally have one.
FIN