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) 2012 by Djinn. This story is
Rated R.
Isolated Incidences
by
Djinn
Chapel
cursed as her burned shoulder tore again.
She continued reaching for the stream anyway, intent on filling her
container.
There
was no damn food on this hellish planet.
But the water was safe to drink.
Or if not safe, at least not the kind that would kill you quickly or
make you sick immediately. She
didnÕt have a tricorder to check for impurities or bugs or anything else.
It
had been destroyed in the crash, as had most of her teamÕs equipment. Dominguez had set out a half-crushed
emergency beacon before his injuries got the better of him. Miller had helped Chapel clear whatever
they could out of the shuttle.
Miller
had been fine. Or seemed it. Until she went to sleep one night and
never woke up. Chapel suspected
internal injuries, maybe an aneurism. She hadnÕt cut into her to find out. What was the point?
She
was alone here. Had been alone here
for three weeks. The
vegetation—what little there was of it—was dangerous. Some of it was caustic if touched. Fortunately, not the grass, or sheÕd
have had nowhere to sleep. But she
couldnÕt eat any of the flora without getting sick, as sheÕd found out a week
ago, when her rations had run out and sheÕd gingerly tested bits of any plant
that looked promising.
SheÕd
gone hungry since. She was
dizzy. She was weak. Her shoulder hurt like a son of a bitch. But at least she had this water.
Her
container finally full, she walked slowly back to the little camp sheÕd made
far enough away from the crashed shuttle to be out of any immediate danger from
radiation leaks. Not that a leak
was likely—nor was she sure what she was saving herself for? Did Starfleet even know sheÕd
crashed? Dominguez hadnÕt been sure
the beacon would work or even if it did, would get through before the strange
dampening cloud, which seemed to float around the planet, came over where
theyÕd crashed. There were a few
holes in the clouds, holes through which signals could get through, but they
werenÕt fixed. Chapel figured the
next one would show up in another three weeks or so.
SheÕd
be damned hungry by then.
If
her shoulder didnÕt kill her first.
Or the water didnÕt turn out to be toxic in large doses.
Or
an animal finally showed up and ended it for her.
SheÕd
sharpened several branches, long and short, just in case there was some sort of
native fauna. SheÕd worked on a
stone knife, too. That was the
extent of her arsenal. She had
nothing to make fire with—fortunately the weather here seemed to be mild
no matter the time of day. And she
could bathe in the stream when she couldnÕt stand the smell rising off her
skin. Sand and some kind of soapy
plant sheÕd prayed didnÕt prove to be toxic worked to get her clean.
The
pain in her shoulder had nearly leveled her when sheÕd bathed that first time. She did it anyway. And did it again and again when the
smell got worse than the idea of the pain.
With no one around, she dried off naked in the sun and washed her
clothes out, too, letting them dry spread out under the gentle warmth.
Her
last bath was yesterday. SheÕd
nearly passed out in the stream when sheÕd gotten soap in the raw skin that
used to pass for her shoulder.
She wasnÕt sure she could force herself to do it again.
SheÕd
die a stinky corpse. Not that there
were a whole lot of other kinds when you got right down to it.
Or
maybe Starfleet would actually send someone.
Even
though her little teamÕs mission wasnÕt exactly by the book—or even on the books.
Even
though Cartwright wasnÕt around anymore to check on his protŽgŽÕs progress.
Even
though theyÕd thought she was an integral member of the conspiracy. Only the newest anti-deception tech had
been enough to convince them otherwise.
God,
the things she had spilled. To say
she was embarrassed when she ran into one of the examiners in the corridor was
to underestimate just how red one woman could turn.
But
despite all that, maybe theyÕd send someone. Like now, the person coming over the
rise.
The
person coming over the rise?
After
three weeks on this godforsaken rock, she was finally hallucinating. A lanky figure in Starfleet red could
not possibly be walking toward her.
A
figure that looked a little bit like a Vulcan.
She
closed her eyes, counted to ten.
There was no way in hell that a Vulcan, let alone that Vulcan, had come to rescue her.
She
opened her eyes. The figure was
still there. And getting closer.
It
really was that Vulcan.
She
struggled to her feet. ÒNot that
IÕm not thrilled to see you, Spock, but what are you doing here?Ó
ÒRescuing
you.Ó He took in her makeshift
camp. ÒI saw the wreckage. And the graves.Ó He slid the backpack he was wearing off
and pulled out a medical scanner, immediately getting to work.
ÒGive
me that.Ó She grabbed it out of his
hand. ÒWhoÕs the doctor here,
anyway?Ó
He
was staring at her shoulder. ÒI am
unsure at this point.Ó
ÒI
know how bad it looks.Ó
ÒI
am more concerned with how much it must be hurting you.Ó
ÒThatÕs
sweet. You feeling all right?Ó She straightened, felt the skin on her
shoulder pull, then tear, and tried to hide the pain.
She
could tell from the way his eyes narrowed that sheÕd failed.
ÒSpock,
you didnÕt make this little hike under the interference cloud because you need me, did you?Ó She was in no shape to help him out if
the seven-year itch had awakened his inner boy scout. Besides, she was probably assuming way
too much if she thought he couldnÕt find other alternatives closer to home.
ÒI
did not.Ó He seemed to understand
what she was asking; his face got the same ÒWhat is that smell?Ó look it always
did whenever she tried to talk to him about the Pon
Farr.
She
went back to scanning herself. The
shoulder was a mess from the burn, but there was no sign of any gangrene; she
closed her eyes in relief. ÒYou
realize youÕre stuck here with me? That cloud makes glaciers look speedy.Ó Then she met his eyes. ÒBut we could walk back the way you
came, catch up to the hole eventually.Ó
He
shook his head. ÒI was unsure what
state I would find you in. The Gasteau will not
return until the hole is in this vicinity again.Ó
ÒAnd
that will be in...?Ó
ÒTwo
point five six weeks.Ó
ÒOh.Ó Her calcs hadnÕt
been quite so spot on, but sheÕd been close.
He
handed her a hypo. ÒI brought a
great deal in this pack. I was not
sure what you might need.Ó
ÒOh,
thank God.Ó She took the hypo, shot
it into her arm, and nearly fell down as the feeling of blessed numbness crawled
through her abused body. ÒAnything
topical?Ó
He
nodded, dug in the bag some more, then handed her a container of orange
liquid. ÒBurns and abrasions are
common after crashes.Ó
ÒSo
is death.Ó
ÒI
am aware of that.Ó He met her
eyes. ÒIf you were not here,
someone else might have needed it.Ó
He looked down, said, ÒBut I was hoping you would be here,Ó so low it
was almost a mumble.
ÒWhat
was that?Ó
ÒYou
are fully aware of what I just said.Ó
He saw her grimace as she tried to apply the lotion to her shoulder and
took the medicine from her. ÒLet
me.Ó
He
was amazingly gentle; she hissed in pain despite that. But then the medicine began to work, and
she moaned in relief.
ÒEven
with such a light touch between us, I can feel your pain.Ó His voice was gentle, his breath moving
her hair as he stayed behind her.
ÒYou have lived with this pain the whole time?Ó
She
nodded.
ÒHow
did you get burned?Ó
She
turned to face him. ÒMy shoulder
was ripped in the fall. I did what
I could to fix it up. It wasnÕt
enough. Gangrene set in. I needed to stop it. I needed to kill it.Ó
His
face showed dismay—or the Vulcan version of it. ÒYou did this to yourself?Ó
ÒA
little fuel. A few other things we
had on hand. It hurt like
hell.Ó She swallowed. Better to not remember. Better to enjoy this amazing numbness. ÒI like my arm. I wanted to keep it. And the shoulder—gangrene down the
arm means amputation. But gangrene
down the torso would impact organs. And up into the brainstem...Ó
ÒI
understand why you did it. I am
just—Ò
ÒAppalled?Ó
ÒSorry. That you had to go through that. Alone.Ó
ÒI
wasnÕt alone. My team was still
alive.Ó
ÒThis
looks as if it has been ripped repeatedly.Ó He touched around the wound gently, then
understanding seemed to dawn. ÒAh. The graves. You buried your teammates.Ó
ÒI
tore the skin any number of times, yes, while I was doing it. But I had to bury them.Ó
ÒIt
was the human thing to do?Ó
She
nodded. ÒAlso they were starting to
smell. And if there are any
predators on this godforsaken planet, that smell might have attracted
them—it wasnÕt just for my comfort.Ó
He
looked surprised, then nodded.
ÒLogical.Ó
ÒI
can be logical.Ó
ÒI
am aware of that.Ó He moved away
from her finally.
ÒDo
you have any food in that magic pack of yours? IÕm starving. Ran out of rations a week ago.Ó
He
handed her several of the latest—and most compact—versions of
Starfleet MREs.
ÒI
hate these.Ó She dug in
anyway. The small amount of
material should not have been able to take the edge off her hunger, let alone
make her feel full, but the MREs did just what they were supposed to do: feed someone adequately while being highly
portable, highly compact, and not perishable.
Still, they tasted like crap.
ÒCan
you scan the water, Spock? IÕve
been drinking a lot, bathing in it, too.
Given the state of the vegetation here, that might not have been the
smartest idea.Ó
He
took his tricorder and assessed her water container. ÒIt appears to be compatible with our
needs.Ó
ÒSmall
miracles.Ó She yawned and tried to
force it back.
ÒHave
you slept much?Ó
ÒNo. The shoulder feels best when IÕm upright
and not touching anything. And it
was hard to really relax...being alone here.Ó
ÒYou
are no longer alone here. Moreover,
I need very little sleep.Ó
ÒAre
you saying youÕll watch over me?Ó
ÒThat
is precisely what I am saying.Ó He
took the pack, pulled out a blow-up pillow and thermal blankets.
ÒYou
pack really well, Spock.Ó
He
almost smiled. ÒDo you want me to inflate
this for you?Ó
She
nodded. She didnÕt have the energy
to do it, not with food in her belly and lovely pain meds coursing through her
system. She checked the hypo heÕd
given her. Standard issue painkillers
plus vitamins and some immune boosting herbs.
Lovely,
lovely stuff.
He
handed her the pillow, settled out another thermal blanket for himself.
ÒIt
doesnÕt get very cold here, Spock.Ó
ÒI
know. IÕve been walking for four
days.Ó
She
frowned.
ÒWe
could only beam into a hole in the cloud.
The nearest one was four days from you on foot.Ó
ÒI
get why you had to walk. But why
you? Why only you?Ó
ÒI
wanted to and, apparently, I made a compelling case.Ó He sighed. ÒIt is also possible they hoped I too
would disappear. I was quite
vehement in opposing their abandonment of the search for Jim. And later for Mister Scott. This time they gave me a ship and let me
embark on the search for you.Ó
She
smiled, trying to hide the fact she knew another reason they might be willing
to let Spock the Hero just disappear for a while. ÒItÕll serve them right when we both
come back to haunt them.Ó
ÒGo
to sleep. We will have plenty of
time to talk in the coming weeks.Ó
Another
yawn and she gave up. ÒGood night.Ó
ÒGood
night, Christine.Ó
##
Spock
watched as Christine slept fitfully.
Every time she moved, she moaned, and he wondered if he should give her
another hypo of the pain meds.
He had a limited amount and as Christine had pointed out, she was the
doctor and far more able to make this call.
When
he finally found her moans too distracting, he eased the blanket off her
shoulder and applied the topical treatment as gently as he could.
She
woke anyway, her eyes half slits in the low light of the lantern heÕd
brought. ÒIÕm sorry,Ó she
whispered.
ÒFor
what?Ó He kept working, the job
going faster now that she was awake.
ÒFor...for
being human.Ó
ÒFor
being afraid? You were afraid?Ó
She
nodded, then sighed as the medicine appeared to start working. ÒI thought I would die here. Alone. I wasnÕt sure IÕd gotten all the
gangrene. And without food...Ó She took a deep breath. ÒThank you. For coming.Ó
ÒYou
are welcome.Ó He eased the blanket
back over her shoulder, and she drifted off, not apparently noticing he had
only moved his hand down her arm, not completely off her.
This
need to touch her was unexpected.
To convince himself that heÕd finally managed to save a person he cared
about. And she wouldnÕt censure him
for his actions. Even if they were
highly foolhardy.
He
closed his eyes and let go of her, trying not to replay the last conversation
with his father.
Trying. Failing. Hands clenching just a bit. He was never able to keep the emotions
at bay—that was his crime always on his home planet. Never being Vulcan enough.
It
was why heÕd found Valeris so intriguing.
Why sheÕd gone a long way to making him feel Vulcan again. And accepted.
A
pity sheÕd been a traitor and only using him. A pity heÕd fallen in love with someone
whoÕd never loved him back.
A
pity he was once again suspect on his home planet. How had he not known? Their
relationship was no secret. It was,
apparently, assumed theyÕd melded.
And
why not? It was what Vulcans did. What
they were drawn to do when close to another, especially during sex.
Valeris
had never wanted a meld. SheÕd said
she wanted regard to grow naturally.
SheÕd said she viewed the meld as a crutch.
HeÕd
been fool enough to believe her.
The
only meld had been when heÕd forced out her confession. On the bridge of the Enterprise. A mind rape, Valeris had called it later,
when heÕd gone to see her, hoping to find some sort of closure.
He
had found nothing but disdain.
Nothing but the face of the same Vulcans who had always judged him and
found him wanting. Spock was sure
she hated him, but he had not been able to read it on her face. He was sure his own face had not been so
opaque.
She
had been the perfect Vulcan. Even
in defeat.
And
Spock? His father wanted him to
know that the Council—although they understood why he forced a meld and what
the price of not doing it would have been—found his actions to be
of...concern.
Yet
again.
ÒThe
good of the many,Ó Spock had said.
ÒIt
is not your reasoning, my son. It
is not, strictly speaking, the action.
It is the emotion behind it.Ó
He
could not win. He had averted
war. And he still could not win.
And
now. His best friend was gone. Lost on a launch he had been too busy to
attend.
Too
busy visiting a traitor. The only
day he could get in to see Valeris under the radar of the newsvids
was the day the news expected him to be on a ship—the new Enterprise—not at a Federation
holding facility.
He
had not made the launch. Jim had
known he would not, had known why.
And now his friend was dead.
Had Spock not been so weak, had he let Valeris go without that emotional
backward glance, he might have been able to save Jim.
Or
at least die with him, saving someone elseÕs Enterprise. Perhaps the
Council would not have condemned him for that act of heroism.
Somewhere,
deep in the pits of Rura Penthe,
Valeris was probably laughing at him.
In
a proper Vulcan way, of course.
##
Chapel
woke to the familiar pain of her burning shoulder—and the not so familiar
sensation of having actually rested.
She shifted position slightly and her shoulder exploded in agony.
She
didnÕt open her eyes, just held out her hand and said, ÒHypo. Now.Ó
Fortunately,
Vulcans were not big on the warm and fuzzy part of waking up. She heard Spock digging in the backpack
and reloading the hypospray. Then he placed it in her hand and waited
quietly while she slammed it into her arm.
ÒBetter?Ó
he asked after a few moments.
ÒIn
a sec.Ó She sat up gingerly, still
refusing to open her eyes. Somehow
the pain was more manageable with them closed.
Then
it started to recede and she sighed.
ÒBetter.Ó
ÒDo
you require coffee?Ó
She
opened her eyes. ÒYou have
coffee?Ó
He
held up the basic ingredients for camp coffee: water and coffee. ÒI must confess, I have been told my
coffee is not very good.Ó
She
held out her hand. ÒGimme.Ó
He
seemed content to let her make the coffee.
She stacked some rocks, heated them with his phaser, filled the
collapsible pot he handed her with water, and threw the coffee in. TheyÕd be drinking through grinds,
since she didnÕt trust the vegetation to filter without poisoning them, but she
didnÕt care. All she wanted was the
caffeine.
Spock
was sitting back watching her, his gaze more appraising than she expected.
ÒWhat?Ó
ÒI
am curious, Christine.Ó
ÒAbout...?Ó
ÒYou
were CartwrightÕs protŽgŽ. You
were, at one point, ValerisÕs training officer during
her interim in Emergency Ops, were you not?Ó
ÒI
was.Ó
He
didnÕt keep going.
ÒYou
want to know if I was involved in the conspiracy?Ó
ÒI
know they cleared you.Ó
ÒThen
your point is...?Ó
ÒHow
did you not know?Ó
She
smiled. And she knew it wasnÕt her
nicest one. ÒHow did you not know, Spock? You were sleeping with one of the prime
conspirators, if the rumors running rampant through Starfleet Command were
correct.Ó
ÒWere
you not also sleeping with one of them?Ó
ÒDo
you honestly believe that rumor about Cartwright and me? The man liked me for my skills.Ó Spock did not look convinced, so she met
his eyes. ÒI was not sleeping with
Admiral Cartwright. But I was his
friend. And close to him at
work. I donÕt know how I missed it. They were careful. He kept me clear of it. I think, looking back, that there were
times he sort of felt me out in terms of where my feelings lay regarding the
Klingons.Ó
ÒAnd
what are your feelings regarding them?Ó
ÒI
donÕt really have any. IÕve seen
what theyÕve done, the bodies left behind.
IÕve also been on a few joint missions where I was damned glad to have
them at my back.Ó
He
frowned. ÒWhat missions would those
be?Ó
ÒNothing
you need to know about. ItÕs
just...sometimes itÕs beneficial to both sides to cooperate.Ó
ÒI
was not aware of that.Ó
ÒNo
reason you should be. No
reason anyone should be other than a few insiders.Ó Damn, the pain meds were making her way
too talkative. ÒLetÕs just leave it
at this: my current assignment
takes me some strange places.Ó
ÒApparently.Ó
She
busied herself with the coffee. ÒDo
you want any?Ó
ÒNo. Thank you.Ó
ÒDo
you have any extra cloth in that bag of tricks? Cheesecloth maybe? Or wire mesh.Ó
He
handed her a small sheet of fabric mesh.
ÒYou
really are a boy scout.Ó She poured
the coffee through the mesh into one of the collapsible bowls that came with
the pot. ÒSugar?Ó
ÒI
did not think to pack that.Ó
ÒSÕokay. No
oneÕs perfect.Ó She sipped and the
first sip was the best thing sheÕd tasted in weeks. ÒOh. My.
God.Ó Another sip, still
heaven.
ÒI
went to see Valeris,Ó Spock said into the silence. ÒAt the holding facility. Just before she went to Rura Penthe.Ó
ÒWhy? Wallowing?Ó
ÒClosure,
I believe.Ó
ÒDid
you get any?Ó
ÒI
did not.Ó
She
laughed, then felt bad. This was
his heart she was laughing at. HeÕd
apparently fallen hard for the little bitch.
ÒDid
you meld with her again?Ó she asked, and he winced. ÒI heard about that. From multiple sources. You were the hero and not, all at once.Ó
ÒI
received some censure for my actions.Ó
ÒFrom
whom?Ó
ÒThe
Vulcan council.Ó
ÒWhy?Ó
He
looked confused—or perhaps puzzled was more Vulcan appropriate. ÒYou just said—Ó
ÒHey,
I wasnÕt judging. I happen to like
peace, so IÕm glad you forced the info out of her.Ó She studied him. ÒDid you want to force another meld on
her when you went back to see her?
Get that closure you needed?Ó
ÒPart
of me did. She must have known I
would. Her counsel required that a forcefield separate us when I visited.Ó
She
laughed meanly. ÒNow her counsel
will be a rusty batÕleth. If sheÕs lucky.Ó
He
did not seem as cheered as she was by that thought. ÒShe said something to me while I was
there. That there was someone the
investigation had missed. Someone
obvious.Ó
ÒI
think she was lying to you. Leaving
you wondering who you can trust would be the best revenge.Ó
He
met her eyes. ÒThat has occurred to
me. But she may have told the
truth.Ó
ÒSpock,
who else is left?Ó She saw him look
down. ÒWait. Did you think it was me?Ó
ÒI
donÕt know.Ó
ÒYou
damn well do know if you suspected me or not.Ó She sighed. ÒYouÕre not the only one. I got put through the ringer proving my
innocence. They used some new
devices we acquired from, well, other sources. Nasty little things. Make you spill your guts. Once they got done with me, they moved on
to Valeris. I was on the examining team.Ó
ÒAfter
being a suspect?Ó
ÒI
apparently let loose enough vitriol about Valeris to convince them I was no
friend of hers and would not worry overmuch about the effects of an untried
device on Vulcan physiology—or sanity.Ó
ÒVitriol? I thought she excelled as your intern.Ó
ÒSpock,
please. You were in love with
her. I was jealous, even if I knew
I was only ever your Pon Farr port in the storm.Ó
ÒYou
were more than that.Ó
ÒBarely.Ó She finished off her coffee and poured
another.
ÒI
am not sure I loved her.Ó
ÒShe
was sure you did.Ó She lifted an
eyebrow at him.
ÒWas
she in love with me?Ó
ÒIÕd
love to give you closure on that, but I have no idea. We werenÕt interested in her feelings
for you.Ó
ÒThen
why were you interested in my feelings for...?Ó He frowned, his eyebrows pulling down in
a way that was almost human.
ÒOh. I see.Ó
She
sighed. ÒGuess the logic train just
hit the station, huh?Ó She leaned
in, and her shoulder barely complained.
ÒYou were her lover. You
were the one whoÕd set up the entire Klingon outreach. You could have been involved in the
explosion on Praxis. You led an
investigation into the assassination on the Enterprise
that was a bit cavalier from the outside looking in. You also were the one to extract the information
from her via the meld. How many
people could you have protected while you were outing those you could afford to
expose? Those are the kinds of
things they were asking.Ó
ÒDid
you enjoy that? Knowing I was
suspect?Ó
ÒEnjoy? Spock, I was there to make sure that
unlike my turn in that device, you were actually presumed innocent as the
questioning was going on. Valeris
wanted to implicate you. She tried. She tried to implicate me, as well—while
I was out of the room on a break.
It didnÕt work. The
device—well, letÕs just say itÕs extremely good at what it does.Ó She took a deep breath. ÒShe told us a great deal. And if sheÕd said she loved you, IÕd
tell you.Ó
ÒAnd
if sheÕd said she didnÕt.Ó
ÒIÕd
definitely tell you that—still hurting a bit over being someone you just have
sex with.Ó
ÒI
have risked danger to come find you.
Surely that is more than someone I just have sex with?Ó
ÒYou
may have a small point.Ó She drank
her coffee, focusing on that for a while.
Then she murmured, ÒDid you really think I was involved?Ó
ÒNo. But I had no idea she was involved,
either. I am clearly no expert on
truth and lies.Ó
ÒNone
of us saw this coming. DonÕt beat
yourself up.Ó She nodded at the
topical lotion that sat by his blanket.
ÒCan you put more of that on me?Ó
He
came around behind her, gently applied the lotion.
It
started to work immediately, and the relief felt great. But she had to admit, the idea that
Spock was putting it on her felt even better.
ÒSpock,
how did she hide it from you? Surely you melded with her when you had sex?Ó
ÒShe
wanted to wait.Ó
ÒWait
for sex?Ó
ÒWait
for a meld.Ó
ÒSo,
you did have sex?Ó
ÒWe
did.Ó
ÒYou
always melded with me during the Pon Farr.Ó
ÒChristine,
please. I feel foolish enough as it
is. Can we find something else to
talk about?Ó His touch never
changed from the delicate one even though his voice grew more and more tense.
ÒShe
shouldnÕt have used you,Ó she whispered.
ÒShe
shouldnÕt have used any of us.Ó
##
Spock
waited until Christine had finished yet another cup of coffee before asking, ÒI
would like to go through the wreckage.
We need to ensure there is nothing left behind that will harm Starfleet
if it is discovered.Ó
She
gave him a look he could not read.
It seemed to be amusement mixed with something else.
ÒYou
didnÕt look at the shuttle yesterday?Ó
ÒOnly
long enough to ascertain no one was inside.Ó To be honest, he had been distracted by
the grave markers, had been relieved that a CC had not been engraved on either
of them.
ÒSure,
we can go.Ó She pushed herself to
her feet, barely grimacing. Either her
shoulder was healing, the medicine was stronger than she was letting on, or she
was a very good actress.
He
suspected it might be a combination of all three.
ÒWhat
was your mission, Christine? You
are very far from any emergencies I am aware of.Ó
ÒSorry. ThatÕs restricted information.Ó She smiled, an ingenuous smile that he
didnÕt believe for a moment. She
was enjoying telling him that he had no business asking, let alone knowing.
And,
in her line of work, it was entirely possible he didnÕt.
The
shuttle came into sight; she had not made her camp too far from it, about
halfway between it and the stream from which heÕd filled her water containers
last night, when she was sleeping.
She
hung back and let him go inside first.
Everything was covered with a strange chalky residue. Nothing that marked this shuttle as
Starfleet remained. In fact, the shuttle itself was old and rusted in
parts. As if it might have been a
refurbished transport.
The
kind smugglers used.
He
turned to look at her. ÒA restricted
mission? Or illegal?Ó
ÒRestricted.Ó She smiled and this time it was a
genuine one. ÒI took everything I
could use out. I destroyed the rest
per my orders with a substance you also have no need to know about. The ship was pretty stripped down to
begin with.Ó
ÒSo
I am seeing.Ó
ÒIt
was an interesting mission.Ó She
looked out toward the two gravemarkers. ÒToo interesting at the end.Ó
ÒThey
were your friends?Ó
ÒDominguez
was a friend—a lifer as we call them—but Miller was new to this
game.Ó
New
and now dead. It was how it went,
Spock knew, in the line of work sheÕd chosen. And he could see it bothered her.
ÒBut for the lucky bulkhead that ripped my shoulder but kept me from flying
across the shuttle like the other two had, IÕd be dead, too.Ó
ÒI
am relieved there was a bulkhead, then.
Even if your shoulder might have preferred otherwise.Ó
ÒMy
shoulder doesnÕt get a vote.Ó She
smiled tightly. ÒMiller had a sister
in Missouri. When I get back, IÕll go
see her. And EnriqueÕs wife. She doesnÕt like me, but now...Ó
ÒIt
is not your fault.Ó
ÒYou
donÕt know that.Ó She took a deep
breath, looked around the shuttle. ÒIÕm
so sick of this,Ó she said, and he didnÕt think she realized sheÕd said it out
loud.
He
sat quietly, watching her from the back of the shuttle, concern flooding
him. Emotion, yet again. She seemed to be forcing hers back
successfully, yet he could not keep his under control since Valeris had betrayed
him. ÒQuit, then.Ó
ÒIÕve
been doing this for so long. ItÕs
all I know how to do.Ó
ÒThat
is untrue. You are a doctor. A nurse. You clearly have many skills from this
assignment. They can all be used in
future endeavors.Ó
ÒSuch
as?Ó
He
didnÕt have an answer for that. He
could ask her to join him but as what?
His assistant? That seemed
an unlikely role for her.
And
when had he ever wanted her on his staff?
Why
did he find he wanted her there now?
ÒI
think IÕll stay put for now. The
exec is leaving in a few months.
IÕve been told IÕm under consideration. I was pretty ambivalent until crashing,
but now it sounds good. I guess
lifeÕs little catastrophes can change your attitude in a hurry.Ó
Just
as his own catastrophes had changed his toward her? Was that all this was? A reaction to his father and the
councilÕs disapproval? Rejection of
them, of Valeris and her treachery?
Some way to get Jim back through a person who was not him, would never
be him?
ÒBig
thoughts, Spock?Ó
He
looked up. ÒDid you say something?Ó
ÒI
asked if youÕd seen enough.Ó
ÒYou
have somewhere else to be?Ó
She
laughed, and the expression lit up her face. ÒNo, but this isnÕt getting us anywhere,
is it?Ó
He
joined her at the exit. ÒIt is not.Ó
ÒWhen
my shoulder wasnÕt hurting too much, I tried to survey.Ó
ÒExcellent
initiative.Ó
She
rolled her eyes. ÒI was bored
stiff. And desperately searching
for a distraction. I had nothing to
record what I found though. You wanna hand over that tricorder so we can start over? Not sure the Federation has gotten much
data on this place, given the cloud.Ó
ÒAn
excellent idea.Ó
He
handed her his tricorder and watched her face as she worked. He approved of how lost she became at
times in what she was doing. She
had her hair skinned back, was devoid of any makeup. She looked older, but then she was
older. They all were.
ÒWhy
are you staring at me?Ó she asked without looking over at him.
He
almost smiled. She was different in
other ways, too, than the nurse he had first come to after his supposition had
been proved wrong that fighting Jim for TÕPring would
make the burning go away. It had
made the fire burn lower, but he had still needed sex.
And
he had sought her out, or rather called her to his quarters and made it very
clear what he needed from her. And
sheÕd given it to him with happiness in her eyes.
Happiness
that had died when heÕd made it clear, once the burning was over, that this was
not the start of a relationship.
Her
eyes had been far more guarded when heÕd come to her the next time, and the
time after that. His cycles never
ran on time, even though she called it his seven-year itch. He thought one was probably due
soon. HeÕd thought this time heÕd
be with Valeris when it happened.
HeÕd
been wrong.
ÒYou
didnÕt answer my question. Why in
the hell are you staring at me?Ó
She handed him the tricorder.
ÒLook at this combination.
This flower would kill us in seconds if we ate it.Ó
It
was indeed an oddly lethal combination. He handed her the tricorder and
she went back to work.
What
if he had not chosen Valeris when the Pon Farr came? What if he had sought out this woman
instead? If he and Valeris had
married, had invoked the bond, then most likely he would not have done that. But without a meld, with only sex
between them, would Valeris have taken precedence over this woman he had sought
out every other time?
ÒSpock,
youÕre giving me the creeps.Ó Christine
turned abruptly, and he was thrown off balance. She reached out to steady him, her hand
firm on his arm, her motion one of practice and instinct.
What
was she doing these days on these missions she could not discuss?
ÒI
was thinking about the Pon Farr, Christine. I was thinking about how I have wanted
you each time. I was wondering if I
would have wanted you still, even if IÕd been with Valeris. Barring marriage, of course. If things had stayed as they were.Ó
She
smiled slowly. ÒMore big thoughts.Ó
ÒYes.Ó
ÒAnd
irrelevant ones. You were in love
with her, Spock. You were never in
love with me. She won, even if by
some chance you hadnÕt picked her when your body gets to run the show again. SheÕd still have won.Ó
ÒI
do not think she would have seen it that way.Ó He thought back to their meeting at the
center, the day of the launch.
SheÕd asked about Christine--had Spock seen her? ÒShe wanted me to suspect you.Ó
ÒI
told you that.Ó
ÒNo,
I mean more than just a red herring for Starfleet to chase down. She wanted me to suspect you.Ó He met her eyes, saw that she was not
following. ÒShe was jealous of
you.Ó
ÒHow
could she know about me? You said
you never melded.Ó
ÒWe
did not. But she asked me
once. What I did during the burning
with no mate at hand. I...told her
the truth.Ó
ÒYouÕre
an idiot.Ó She turned away.
ÒI
believe you are correct. At least
in this case.Ó He took a deep
breath.
ÒShe
was an idiot, too. She had you,
Spock. She had you and I
didnÕt. End of story.Ó
ÒBut
it is clearly not the end of the story.
For here we are.Ó
ÒStuck
alone on a deserted world.Ó She
pretended to clutch her chest. ÒBe
still my raging fantasies.Ó She
resumed scanning the flora.
But
he noticed she glanced back at him far more than she had before.
##
Chapel
fired the phaser at the rock circle, giving the illusion of burning coals for a
moment before easing up on the trigger.
No sense wasting the weapon, even if there did not appear to be any
predators on this world. But the
heat still felt good. Comforting,
even if they were entirely safe.
Spock
had the tricorder and was making comments on her log notes from the surveys
theyÕd been running the past few days.
He worked quickly, his focus clear as ever, whether in an office or
roughing it on a deserted planet.
She
set about opening the MREs. ÒHoney,
I made you a home-cooked meal.Ó
She saw his mouth turn up and smiled.
ÒOops,
my mistake, these are MREs.Ó
ÒAlas,Ó
he said, not looking up from the tricorder until he was done, then he set it
aside. ÒI would prefer a
home-cooked meal.Ó
ÒPlomeek soup?Ó
ÒYours
was quite good, as I remember it.Ó
ÒYou
were in no state to tell.Ó She laughed softly. ÒI could have put raw meat in that soup
and youÕd have probably said it was yummy.Ó
ÒVery
possibly. In that state, my
inhibitions were lower.Ó
ÒI
remember.Ó She knew her smile was
edging toward the naughty side and looked away.
ÒAre
you embarrassed by what we did?Ó He
dug into the MRE as he waited for her answer.
ÒWe
were pretty inventive.Ó
ÒIt
did not hurt that we are both quite limber.Ó He said it as if he was saying they were
both left handed or good at science.
ÒWas
Valeris?Ó She didnÕt look at him
when she asked, wouldnÕt push if he wanted to pretend that he hadnÕt heard.
ÒShe
was surprisingly traditional when it came to sex.Ó
Her
head shot up. ÒYeah?Ó
He
nodded.
ÒYouÕre
not just saying that because she was an evil traitor, are you? Because generally villainesses are very
good in bed.Ó
ÒI
am not just saying that.Ó
ÒHmmmm.Ó She
still couldnÕt quite see Valeris being boring in the sack. The woman sheÕd known had shown some
sass—especially for a Vulcan.
But she supposed it was possible that sass didnÕt always translate to
being a vixen between the sheets. ÒSo
I was better?Ó
ÒYes. Much.Ó
She
smiled, but she was pretty sure the look didnÕt reach her eyes. ÒAnd yet, you loved her, not me. I guess you two had more to talk about.Ó
ÒLooking
back, I think Valeris chose topics she thought I would enjoy. But she had one thing you would never
have.Ó
She
decided not to ask what that was.
Was afraid sheÕd hear Òtrue beautyÓ or ÒcharismaÓ or any of the things
she knew she lacked.
ÒShe
was a pure Vulcan.Ó
Not
what she expected. She met his
eyes, could tell he wasnÕt lying.
For some reason, pure Vulcan mattered. ÒFat lot of good that did you.Ó
ÒAgreed. In either case.Ó
ÒThatÕs
right. TÕPring
wasnÕt the greatest choice, either, was she?Ó
ÒShe
was not. She loved another. Valeris loved a cause.Ó
ÒMaybe,
in the future, you should shy away from those full Vulcan women.Ó She glanced up from her MRE to see what
his reaction was.
He
was looking at her, his eyes intense, his lips almost turned up. ÒI believe you are right.Ó
ÒIÕm
not saying you should turn your attention to me.Ó She was grinning and his eyes lightened.
ÒOf
course not.Ó
ÒBecause,
the fact that you brought coffee and food and blankets and medicine—Ó
ÒAlso
soap.Ó
ÒReally?Ó At his nod, she sighed happily. ÒNote to self: bathe tomorrow.Ó
Again
his lips ticked up.
ÒAll
of that does not mean IÕll just fall in bed with you again.Ó
ÒWe
have no bed here.Ó
ÒThe
sentiment stands even if the words do not strictly apply.Ó
He
put his MRE down, pushed himself to his feet and walked over to her. He sat in front of her, his eyes
intense.
She
forgot how to breathe.
ÒWhere
is the topical medicine?Ó
She
reached behind her, found it, and handed it to him.
He
gently applied it, and she sighed as the numbness spread over flesh that still
hurt, just not as much as before heÕd shown up with his wonderful meds.
ÒDid
you think I was coming over here to seduce you?Ó
ÒMaybe.Ó
He
put the lotion aside, moved closer, pulled her onto him, managing not to wrench
her shoulder in the process. He
snaked his arms around her waist, sat looking at her, studying her.
ÒYouÕre
making me very nervous.Ó
He
took her hair out of the ponytail.
ÒItÕs
dirty. IÕm dirty, Spock.Ó
ÒI
have been cleaner myself. We will both
bathe tomorrow.Ó He touched her
cheek, letting his fingers drift down to her throat. ÒWe are not going to make love tonight.Ó
ÒWeÕre
not?Ó She could tell that part of
him was not concurring with that statement. Part of him was fully on board with
making love.
ÒWe
are not.Ó He took her hand in his, brought it up to his face, held it there
till she started to run her fingers across his skin.
He
actually sighed and closed his eyes.
ÒYou
like that?Ó she whispered. During
the Pon Farrs, theyÕd been
inventive lovers. TheyÕd never been
tender ones.
ÒI
do. Very much.Ó He pulled her close, his lips light on
hers and she moaned as he kept it light between them, his tongue teasing hers,
his hands gently touching down.
Never straying past her side.
ÒPlease,Ó
she said, and then blushed.
ÒPlease
what?Ó He pulled her closer, kissed
her harder.
She
hated what she wanted to say.
Please kiss me. Please hold
me.
Please
love me.
She
stopped moving and he drew away slowly.
ÒPlease what?Ó
ÒNothing.Ó
He
eased her off him, reached in his bag for the hypo and held it up, a question
in his eyes. She nodded—God,
yes, she wanted that relief. That
release. Blessed sleep. Wonderful and not as confusing as this
kissing.
He
held the hypo to her skin, hit the release, and she realized her shoulder had
been hurting more than sheÕd thought, that other parts had, too. Parts wrenched in the crash. Parts strained burying her teammates.
ÒI
love you,Ó she murmured as fogginess overtook her. Damn. Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn.
ÒThank
you. I need to hear that.Ó
ÒThat
is not the right response to ÔI love you,Õ Spock.Ó
ÒI
am aware of that.Ó
She
fell asleep cuddled against him, was dimly aware of him easing her to the
ground. She woke in the middle of
the night in his arms. When she
tried to pull away, he tightened his grip, even though he appeared to be
asleep.
She
decided not to fight it and let herself fall back to sleep.
##
Spock
woke to the feeling of Christine pressed against him. It was not a new sensation—they
had fallen asleep with each other during the Pon Farrs—but she usually had not looked quite as relaxed
as she did now.
He
realized she was smiling, heard her whisper, ÒYouÕre staring at me again,Ó then
she turned and lay facing away from him, not letting go of his arm as she
turned, pulling him in so he was spooning her. ÒNot that I mind this new cuddly
version of you, but why now? Why
me?Ó
ÒIs
this easier? Not looking at me to
ask that?Ó
ÒYes.Ó She tightened her grip on his arm. ÒIf you donÕt want to answer, I can do
it for you.Ó
ÒAll
right.Ó
ÒIÕm
your sure thing. When everything
else goes wrong, IÕll still say yes.Ó
She sighed softly.
He
nuzzled her neck. ÒYou are
correct.Ó He felt her stiffen. ÒIn part.Ó
She
relaxed slightly.
ÒI
heard you were missing and I had no doubt I would look for you. I could not explain it
logically—although I clearly must have at some point for Starfleet to
give me a ship.Ó
ÒI
have faith in your ability to get your way with logic.Ó She moved away a little. ÒBut since when have I been your
way?Ó Suddenly she shifted, seemed
to need to face him, and he let her turn over. ÒOr even close to your way?Ó
ÒDoes
it matter?Ó
ÒYes. It damn well does matter.Ó She moved her arms—Spock was not
entirely sure what combination of moves she used—and she was suddenly out
of his arms and on her feet.
ÒExcuse me. Nature calls.Ó
He
let her go. They had several weeks
to work this out. As in any
diplomatic negotiations, the starting of the discussions was the tough part.
He
decided a concession was in order, though, and made her coffee. Doing it exactly as he had watched her
make it the past mornings. When she
finally wandered back to camp, her mouth set in a tense line, he held up the
cup.
ÒDamn
you,Ó she said, but with a grin.
She took the coffee from him, sat some distance away and drank it
slowly. ÒIÕm angry at you.Ó
ÒSo
I had surmised.Ó He tossed
her a breakfast ration, which was not overly different than the lunch or dinner
rations. MREs were nutritious but
provided no pleasure in eating. He
was looking forward to eating something that came out hot and recognizable as
actual food.
ÒIÕm
going to take a bath. WhereÕs the
soap?Ó
He
found it in the pack and held it up.
ÒDo you wish me to bathe with you?Ó
ÒNo.Ó
ÒWill
you hurt your shoulder if you bathe alone?Ó
ÒI
hate your logic.Ó She looked
down. ÒI donÕt want to bathe with
you.Ó
ÒAll
right.Ó
ÒBut
I did hurt my shoulder the last time.Ó
ÒI
see.Ó He waited. She was clearly not at the decision
point yet, and truth be told he was fine with whatever answer she chose. He was not planning on seducing her in
the stream.
He
was not entirely sure when heÕd decided to seduce her. But he had. Perhaps on the walk from the beam down
point to the crash site? Perhaps
when he saw how strong sheÕd been?
Perhaps the moment heÕd melded with Valeris?
He
didnÕt know. He only knew he meant
to do it.
The
fact that she was resisting, if he was honest, made her all the more enticing.
ÒCompromise,Ó
she finally said.
ÒI
am listening.Ó
ÒI
bathe alone. If it hurts too much,
IÕll yell. You can come save
me...again.Ó
ÒAcceptable.Ó He picked up the tricorder, proceeded to
ignore her.
ÒOkay
then. ItÕs settled.Ó
He
looked up. ÒYes.Ó
ÒOkay.Ó She got up, walked over, and yanked the
soap out of his hand. ÒReally,
really angry at you.Ó
He
nodded, a move sure to infuriate her more.
By the way she glared back at him as she snatched up one of the blankets,
he was not wrong.
##
Chapel
reveled in the real soap that got her so much cleaner than her homebrewed
concoction. She wished the stream
were more a river, so she could really soak, but she made the best of what she had.
Wrapping
the blanket around her as she got out of the water, she washed her clothes and
set them in the sun to dry as she finger-combed her hair and enjoyed feeling
truly clean. She was dozing
in the sun when Spock sauntered up.
ÒSpock,
you are not bathing right here.Ó
ÒYou
are correct. I am not. Soap?Ó
ÒOh.Ó
She handed it over.
ÒYour
shoulder?Ó
ÒIs
fine. You can put medicine on it
later.Ó
ÒAs
you wish.Ó He started to head
upstream.
ÒGo
downstream. I donÕt want my Zen
spoiled by your bubbles floating by.Ó
He
didnÕt argue, just followed the stream away from her, his stride easy, as if he
hadnÕt a care in the world.
She
lay back and dozed, dreaming little snippets of dreams. Some of old missions. Some of having sex with Spock. Some of the crash. She woke herself up finally with a
particularly vivid one of plummeting down to the planet.
Spock
walked into view, following the stream, his uniform over his arm, thermal
blanket wrapped around his waist.
ÒAre you all right? I heard
you call out.Ó
ÒJust
a dream.Ó She gave him what
she hoped was a game smile.
He
spread his uniform in the sun next to hers, then sat down, arranging the
blanket almost demurely.
She
realized hers had slipped down a little and pulled it up to show less cleavage. ÒI shouldnÕt be mad at you. IÕm sorry if I was a bitch.Ó
He
lay back, leaning on his arm with a Zen expression, as if this was their
personal Eden. ÒI emerged unscathed
from your anger.Ó
He
was lying very close to her. She
reached out and touched his cheek, let her finger drop to his lips. He didnÕt try to start anything.
ÒSo
much for seducing me, huh?Ó
His
lips tipped up. ÒIf you wish to
have sex right now, you will have to seduce me.Ó
ÒToo
much work.Ó She lay back, mirroring
his position, gazing at him the same way he was at her. ÒI canÕt fight you, Spock.Ó
ÒWhy
do you need to?Ó
She
refused to look away this time, held his gaze as if her life depended on
it. ÒBecause everyone wants to feel
special—feel essential to the person they love. YouÕve never made me feel that
way.Ó
Until
now. Staring at her like there was
nowhere else heÕd rather be. Damn
it all.
He
did not say anything, just watched her, his gaze untroubled.
ÒIÕve
never been what you wanted, Spock. I may have been what you needed, but thatÕs
not the same thing.Ó
Again,
nothing from the peanut gallery.
ÒFeel
free to chime in at any time, Spock.Ó
He
shook his head. ÒGo on.Ó
ÒAnd
say what? That I love you. I already blurted that out—thanks
so much for those fun drugs. Did
you plan that?Ó
ÒNo. It was, however, an interesting effect
of the medicine.Ó
ÒOh,
yeah. Tons of interesting if youÕre
not the person humiliating yourself.Ó
ÒYou
have no reason for embarrassment.
You told me you loved me years ago.
This is not new information.Ó
She
shook her head and exhaled in what was almost a laugh—a bitter, ugly
laugh, but still a sound of amusement.
ÒAnd you needed to hear it now, from what you said.Ó
ÒI
did. To think that there is still
someone who loves me. That is
welcome news.Ó
ÒYour
mother still loves you.Ó
ÒYou
are no doubt right.Ó
ÒAnd
Saavik does.Ó
ÒAgreed.Ó
ÒUhuraÕs crazy about you. Len, too. Sulu and Chekov are fans.Ó
ÒChristine. I do not need a roster of those closest
to me. I have slept with none of
them.Ó
ÒGood
thing in your momÕs case. Also
probably ChekovÕs.Ó She saw Spock
grin and laughed too. ÒDo you
really think you want me? After all
this time?Ó
ÒYes.Ó
ÒYouÕll
tire of me in days. ItÕs what you
did before.Ó
ÒNo,
the Pon Farr ended in days and my involvement with
you ended with it. This is
different.Ó
ÒYou
weave webs with your logic.Ó
ÒYou
are far from a fly. You are not prey, neither are you helpless.Ó
ÒRemember
that.Ó She rolled to her back,
crossed her arms behind her head, and closed her eyes.
ÒI
am unlikely to forget it,Ó she heard him say as she dozed off again.
Spock
was gone when she woke up. But a
cup of coffee sat waiting for her, a cover over it keeping it fresh.
##
Spock
heard Christine approaching but continued scanning a particularly toxic
plant.
ÒThanks
for the coffee.Ó
ÒYou
are welcome.Ó He glanced over at
her. She looked more rested
finally. In a way that made him
realize how deep the circles under her eyes had been when heÕd found her.
She
found the topical medicine. ÒCould
you?Ó
He
nodded and she walked over, handing him the bottle.
ÒAre
you going to seduce me as you do this?Ó
ÒDo
you wish me to?Ó
ÒDo
you want me to wish you would?Ó
ÒI
should tend to your injury, not play games with words.Ó He turned her gently, moved her hair off
her shoulder, and applied the medicine lightly but more quickly than she was
probably expecting.
Another
rule of diplomatic negotiation: do not do entirely what the other party
expects.
He
handed her the container and went back to scanning the plant. She stood there for a moment as if
unsure what had just transpired.
ÒSo?Ó She tossed the container onto her
blanket and followed him as he moved on to the next plant. ÒAnything interesting?Ó
He
showed her the scans of the last plant.
She
studied it for a moment, her eyebrows drawn in a bit as if considering
something. ÒThis is modifiable.Ó
ÒInto
a better poison?Ó
She
met his gaze. ÒI had some medical projects
I never really quit working on—albeit in my spare time, which is not
copious. This...this is really
interesting.Ó She took the
tricorder, worked for a moment, and then smiled. ÒLook.Ó Her smile grew. ÒI think this might be just
what I needed.Ó
ÒI
am still unsure what you need it for?Ó
ÒVorellian Malignancies. If we donÕt catch them when they first
start, the infected area is entirely compromised and must be excised. And they spread fast.Ó
ÒThis
is poison.Ó
ÒSo
was chemotherapy, my friend.Ó She
made some more notes. ÒIf you find
anything else like this, will you let me know?Ó
ÒOf
course.Ó He scrolled back several
plants. ÒWhat about
this? I found it when you were
sleeping.Ó
She
studied it. ÒNo. Too volatile in this sectorÓ—she
pointed to part of the biochem diagram—Òbut the
right idea.Ó She smiled at him, a
smile of pure scientific delight—nothing of seduction in it.
He
found it incredibly arousing.
ÒI
am...glad I was of service.Ó
ÒCoffee
and now this. What other wonderful
things will you do today?Ó
ÒThat
remains to be seen.Ó
She
laughed. ÒHave you ever thought
about going back to science?Ó
ÒFrom
time to time, yes. Generally when
negotiations are not proceeding as anticipated. When emotions seem to drive diplomacy.Ó
ÒEmotions
generally do drive diplomacy—and every other interaction.Ó She took his elbow long enough to
get him walking, then let go. ÒI
think about going back. Especially
after a mission like the last one. One
that ends with a nasty crash.Ó
ÒScience
is home for both of us.Ó
ÒMore
like a family home, though, not the home we live in now. ItÕs always there, but we left it for a
reason.Ó
ÒMost
apt.Ó
ÒThatÕs
me. Miss Apt.Ó She grinned at him and took his hand,
pulling him after her. ÒYou have to
see this flower. ItÕs beautiful and
it smells so good. IÕm betting itÕs
completely lethal.Ó
ÒThat
does seem to be the trend on this world.Ó
She
seemed to realize she was holding his hand and let it go with a sheepish
look. ÒSorry. Scientific discoveries just make me
giddy.Ó
ÒI
forgive you. But perhaps you could
tell me more about the mission you were on?Ó
Her
smile faded from openly happy to an ÒI donÕt think soÓ look. ÒSpock, I told you, that information is
restricted.Ó
ÒThis
planet is unexplored for many reasons.
One is this cloud. Another is
that it is adjacent to the neutral zone in a part of the sector where Romulans
are seen most often.Ó
ÒWe
crashed here, Spock. This isnÕt
where we were working. You saw the
state of our shuttle. I guess we
were lucky we didnÕt crash on some planet with an ammonia-based atmosphere.Ó She looked haunted for a moment. ÒAnd that the beacon worked before the
cloud interfered. Or IÕd still be
here alone.Ó
ÒIt
did get through; you are not alone.Ó
ÒNo. IÕm not.Ó She pointed to a pink flower. ÒThatÕs the one. Scan it for me?Ó
He
did as she asked. It was only
mildly toxic but the inner juices were caustic. He had to agree that it was beautiful
and had a lovely scent.
ÒIt
would make a nice perfume,Ó she said.
ÒWell, other than the caustic nature of the nectar. Burning off skin to smell good, not so
great an idea.Ó
ÒI
concur.Ó He nodded at her
shoulder. ÒYour burn is healing
quite well.Ó
ÒI
have a good doctor.Ó Her voice was very husky.
ÒI
am gratified you think so.Ó
She
moved closer and stared at him intently.
He
checked the flower for aphrodisiac properties. None. ÒWhat are you doing, Christine?Ó
ÒCanÕt
a girl say thank you?Ó
ÒIs
that what you are doing?Ó
She
nodded, then leaned in and gave him a long slow kiss. It was a very good kiss and he returned
it with enthusiasm. Before he was
ready for her to pull away, she did and said, ÒLet me know if you find anything
else interesting.Ó
ÒYou
are leaving?Ó
Her
smile was very bright. ÒYouÕre not
the only one who can play hard to get.
See you at dinner.Ó
##
Chapel
sat by the makeshift fire, knees pulled up to her chest, waiting for
Spock. She wrapped her arms around
her legs, then realized that the movement hadnÕt hurt.
Her
shoulder was finally on the mend.
She
sighed in relief. SheÕd been more
scared than sheÕd let on to Spock.
Her solution to the gangrene had been unorthodox—and goddamned
painful. If it hadnÕt worked and
she hadnÕt been found, she would have faced a long painful death by gangrene or
some other infection or garden-variety starvation. Or suicide.
ÒWhat
are you thinking about?Ó Spock was
watching her from across the fire.
ÒI
didnÕt hear you come up.Ó
ÒClearly.Ó
He
sat down next to her, much closer than he usually would, and reached behind her
for the pack.
She
put her hand on his arm. ÒThank
you. For finding me. I do mean that.Ó
ÒI
did this for myself as well as you, so thanks are not necessary.Ó He almost smiled. ÒAlthough I did approve of your method
of showing appreciation earlier.Ó
She
laughed, grateful he was taking them to a lighter place, and took the MRE he
handed her. ÒMmm,
Chicken Paradiso. Who comes up with these names? It should be Tasteless Chicken Number
Forty.Ó
ÒAgreed.Ó
She
leaned against him; he did not pull away.
ÒI was thinking about what might have happened if my cure for gangrene
hadnÕt worked.Ó
ÒDo
not think of that.Ó
ÒBut
thatÕs what I do. I run the
scenarios. I figure out whatÕs
going to happen.Ó
ÒAre
you good at it?Ó
ÒI
am. And IÕm not coming up with
happy endings for me without you showing up.Ó
ÒIt
could have been some other rescuer.Ó
ÒTrue.Ó
ÒAlthough
I would hope you would not kiss them with as much energy.Ó
She
laughed. ÒOr at all.Ó
ÒExactly.Ó He sounded serious now. Not the kidding he got in his voice sometimes.
ÒWhat? You suddenly want to be exclusive?Ó
ÒYes.Ó
When he didnÕt elaborate, she sighed.
ÒWas
that not the correct answer?Ó
ÒWell,
it wasnÕt a very elaborate answer.Ó
ÒWhile
we are here, I would like for our relationship to grow. Once we are rescued by the Gasteau, I wish
for our relationship to continue.
When our relationship continues, I do not wish for you to see other
people, and I will abstain from forming intimate partnerships with anyone else,
as well. Is that elaborate enough for
you?Ó
ÒItÕs
missing something.Ó
He
turned to look at her.
ÒThe
why. The emotion of it all. The crazy, ÔTo hell with it, I love
you,Õ declarations.Ó
He
took her empty MRE and put it aside.
Then he pushed her down.
ÒToo hell with it,Ó he said, just before he kissed her.
She
let him kiss her—it was a very, very good kiss—for quite some time
before pushing him off. ÒThatÕs the part you pick?Ó
ÒIt
was, I take it, an ill-advised choice?Ó
ÒIt
was.Ó She sat back up. ÒSay we were exclusive. WhatÕs in it for me?Ó
He
looked confused.
ÒIÕm
serious. YouÕre not exactly batting
a thousand here on romantic gestures.
Sex with you is tremendous, but that always ends. IÕm not sure you even really like me.Ó
ÒDo
you like me?Ó
ÒI
like some things about you.Ó
ÒBut
not enough to want to be with me?Ó
ÒSpock,
youÕre essentially telling me weÕre going to be together. Try asking.Ó
ÒAsking?Ó
She
nodded.
ÒWhat
is the logic of that? You have
pursued me for years.Ó
ÒI
pursued you years ago. ThereÕs a
difference.Ó She could feel her
blood pressure rising. ÒLet me up.Ó
He
moved aside and let her stand.
ÒYou...you
annoy me.Ó It was the best she
could do, and that annoyed her, too.
ÒNo. No to your
relationship. No to
exclusivity. Just no.Ó
And
she stormed off, into the night.
For about ten steps, until she realized how stupid it would be to
re-injure her shoulder from falling down because of a show of hurt pride. So she slowed her pace and went to sit
by the stream.
She
slept there instead of going back to the fire.
##
Spock
found her in the morning where he expected she would be. He did not bring her coffee. She did not seem to expect it.
She
sat up, her eyes still heavy lidded from sleep.
He
sat next to her. ÒIt is not my
nature to woo.Ó
ÒI
know,Ó she said, and her voice was low and sultry. And, he supposed, sad. ÒI donÕt want it to just be about sex.Ó
ÒNeither
do I.Ó
ÒAnd
you think that makes this a romance?Ó
He
brushed her hair back and checked her shoulder. It was healing nicely. If they were careful, they would not
injure it.
He
drew back, studied her face, then ran his finger down her cheek. ÒI find myself wondering what sex will
be like if we both want more.Ó
She
sighed. It was the sound of defeat.
He
did not want to defeat her. This
could not be a zero sum game.
He
wanted both sides of this negotiation to win.
He
started to get up, but she stopped him.
ÒHow
do you know IÕm even free? Maybe
IÕm in a happy relationship and donÕt need this from you.Ó
ÒAre
you?Ó
She
was blinking back tears. ÒNo.Ó
ÒAnd
I knew that. I asked our
friends. Nyota. Leonard. They told me you were not seeing
anyone.Ó
ÒWhen
did you ask them this?Ó
ÒBefore
I set out to find you.Ó
ÒYou
wouldnÕt have come to get me if you thought sex wasnÕt in the offing?Ó
He
could feel the smile that she seemed to bring out of him starting. ÒI would have. I just would have lowered my
expectations.Ó
She
laughed, but it was a sound he didnÕt like. Not joy. Not even real amusement. Just...acceptance.
He
wanted her to be happy. He wanted
her to be happy with him.
He
pulled her to him, kissed her as tenderly as he could, and heard her sob. But she kissed him back. He let her control the pace, let her
decide when to open her mouth to his, when to pull him closer.
But
when she started to pull his shirt off, he stopped her.
ÒI
think, for now, this is best.Ó
ÒYou
just want to make out?Ó
ÒCall
it what you like.Ó He pulled her
back to him, half onto his lap and she crawled the rest of the way until she
was straddling him. He knew she
could tell he wanted her.
Her
eyes were suddenly peaceful. SheÕd
stopped crying. And she leaned in
and kissed him, and he closed his eyes and kissed her back.
For
a very long time.
When
they pulled away, she ran her fingers down his jaw, then over to his ears,
making him sigh. ÒI wish I didnÕt
love you so much,Ó she whispered as she went back to kissing him.
They
stayed by the stream for a long time.
Kissing. Touching places
that were safe, that didnÕt mean sex was the only thing they had. Talking finally, about things that
didnÕt matter but counted anyway.
Her
eyes were closing as she lay nestled in the crook of his arm, and he wondered
if sheÕd gotten any sleep while sheÕd been alone on the planet.
ÒIÕm
sorry, Spock. IÕm just so sleepy.Ó
He
kissed her check, running his fingers through her hair, across her neck. ÒI do not mind.Ó
ÒYou
can be so nice,Ó she said, just before she dropped off.
He
wished she didnÕt sound so surprised.
##
Chapel
watched as Spock continued his survey.
He seemed loathe to wander very far from her, so had transferred his
attention to the geologic properties of the immediate area.
For
days, heÕd been content to talk, kiss, or leave her alone if that was what she
wanted.
He
suddenly glanced over at her, like he knew she was thinking of him. His gaze was soft. Much softer than it had been before.
What
if he loved her? What would it feel
like? Was this gentle happiness the
real thing? Or just relief that
they could be close for longer than it took passion to burn out?
And
what happened once they did have sex?
Would the rest of this just end?
It
was her job to run scenarios.
She
stood up.
It
was also her job to test the scenarios.
She
walked over to him.
He
turned to her before she got to him, welcome clear on his face. He pulled her in to nestle at his side,
kissed her as if that was the most normal thing in the world for them to do.
ÒI
want you,Ó she said, her voice unsteadier than she
would have liked.
ÒI
want you, too.Ó His eyes held a
question and she answered it for him by taking the tricorder and laying it on
the ground, then pulling off his shirt.
He
returned the favor, then kissed her, their chests pressed skin to skin, his
hands burning down her back lightly.
He pushed off her pants, then his own, and followed her down to the
grass.
He
held himself above her, not moving, and she finally pulled him down and wrapped
her legs around him, but still he did not enter her.
She
met his eyes, knew her own were confused.
ÒPlease?Ó
ÒDo
you have any doubt why I am with you?Ó
ÒI
donÕt know.Ó
He
seemed to hesitate.
ÒSpock,
thatÕs an improvement on yes, isnÕt it?
Would you make love to me already?Ó
ÒNow
who is lacking in romance?Ó
And
then he was inside her, moving in ways that left her unable to think up a smart
retort. He kissed her the way heÕd
been kissing her. Long, slow kisses
as he moved in similar rhythms, building her up and up and up and...there. She was very loud as she floated down.
Surprisingly,
so was he.
She
smiled as he opened his eyes. ÒA
bit vocal for you, wasnÕt it?Ó
ÒIt
was very, very good. Do you wish me
to curtail my expressions of pleasure in the future?Ó
ÒHell
no.Ó She laughed and pulled him
down to kiss her. They kissed for a
long time, him still inside her, finally rolling off her and pulling her on top
of him to kiss some more.
And
then he was adjusting her position, pulling her up to straddle him. There was so very much to be said for
Vulcan physiology.
They
made love several more times before she slapped him lightly on the behind and
said, ÒWerenÕt you supposed to be working.Ó
ÒAnd
I believe you are supposed to be recovering.Ó
She
moved her shoulder gingerly but it was all good. ÒIÕll get right on that. Thought I might start with a nap.Ó
He
leaned down and kissed her very soundly.
ÒI approve of your plan.Ó
Then he got up pulled his clothes on, and went back to working.
She
felt a bit bereft without him, even if sheÕd been the one to send him
packing. She reached for her
clothes and he said, ÒDo not put those on.Ó
ÒNo?Ó
ÒNo. I enjoy looking at you. And it will make this work more
enjoyable if I take frequent breaks to do just that.Ó
ÒYou
think IÕm going to lie around here naked just because you like to sneak peeks?Ó
This
time he did smile. ÒYes. I do.Ó
He
wasnÕt wrong, so she just smiled, closed her eyes, and went to sleep.
##
Spock
looked over at Christine, sleeping peacefully, one arm thrown over her face,
but her body his to look at—his to have.
But
her body had always been his to have, and heÕd availed himself of it more than
once. It was her heart that was new
territory for him. And her
wonderfully agile mind that heÕd never fully appreciated when they were both
younger.
He
thought of Valeris. How free sheÕd
seemed to him as she interacted with her colleagues at Starfleet. Human, Vulcan, it hadnÕt mattered. SheÕd related effortlessly. HeÕd expected that kind of ease in bed.
And
truth be told, this women lying in the grass naked solely for his amusement had
been his measuring stick. Sex with
her had always been wonderful. HeÕd
just never let his feelings develop for her, had shut down his emotions and
needs and wants the minute he no longer required her sexually.
And
why? Because she was not Vulcan.
Valeris
would never sleep naked on the grass just so he could enjoy her. She had been—now that he was far
enough away emotionally to not tint their relationship with the rose colored
glasses his mother always referred to—rather a prude.
He
had become a prude along with her.
Tempering his needs.
Bending to fit her. Asking
less and less of her.
What
if sheÕd been that way so heÕd make fewer demands of her? What if sheÕd loved someone else? Like Cartwright possibly. Or one of the other conspirators. What if with them sheÕd been free and
open?
What
if? An amazingly futile
question. Unless used in scientific
inquiry, which this was most certainly not.
Even
if it did deal with biology.
Christine
stirred, sat up with a lack of modesty that pleased him. She reached for her clothes, looked over
at him with a grin, ÒIf itÕs okay with you?Ó
ÒIf
you must.Ó
She
laughed and pulled on her pants.
ÒHow long was I out?Ó
ÒNot
long.Ó
She
checked her shoulder and he said, ÒIt is fine.Ó
ÒYou
checked?Ó
ÒIt
is possible I was in your immediate vicinity and made sure we had not re-injured
it.Ó
ÒBig
softie.Ó She pulled on her
shirt. ÒIt doesnÕt even hurt. God, thatÕs wonderful.Ó
ÒI
am relieved it is getting better.Ó
ÒYou
and me both.Ó She got to her feet,
walked over to him with a growing smile.
ÒI need a kiss.Ó
ÒFortunately
for you, I am quite adept at that activity.Ó
ÒWhy
donÕt you let me be the judge of that?Ó
She pulled him to her, kissed him tenderly.
He
heard a soft moan, realized the sound had come from him. She pulled away and grinned at him. ÒYouÕll do, I guess.Ó
ÒYour
enthusiasm is not overwhelming.Ó
She
kissed him again. A long, sensuous
kiss that left him wanting much more from her. Then she took the tricorder out of his
hand and walked off, looking back to give him a silly grin before disappearing
into the woods.
He
stood and stared at the place where she disappeared for far longer than was
logical.
##
Chapel
found Spock later, after sheÕd catalogued enough new plants to make her feel
useful. He was sitting by the
stream, his feet out of his boots and dangling in the water.
ÒLook
at you, Huck Finn.Ó
He
reached out for her and she came and sat next to him, much closer than she
would have before. He put his arm
around her, pulled her in close, as if they were an old married couple used to
just sitting by the crick shooting the shit.
She
wrestled off her boots and let her feet soak too. The stream felt great—water that
was not the warmest to bathe in felt terrific on tired feet.
ÒSo,
Spock, it turns out the sex is great even when weÕre looking for more.Ó
ÒI
concur.Ó His arm tightened around
her.
ÒThat
said, the sex was pretty damn good before.Ó
ÒIndeed. A quandary.Ó He leaned in, kissed her on the
cheek. ÒWhat do you suggest we do
to resolve this?Ó
ÒHave
more sex.Ó
ÒAh,
a sound suggestion.Ó
She
laughed. ÒI thought you might like
it.Ó She nuzzled his neck, heard
him make a low, happy growling sound so she kept it up, licking, kissing, even
biting. She worked her way to his
ear, whispered in it, ÒAnd this time, you can lie naked on the grass affording
me a nice view while I work.Ó
ÒNot
an unacceptable proposal.Ó He
tipped her face away from his neck, kissed her hard on the lips. ÒShall we start now?Ó
ÒI
think it would be wise. We only
have a week and some left here, correct?Ó
ÒThat
is so. But, there is no reason we
cannot continue our scientific inquiry long after we are rescued.Ó
ÒYou
think we have a shelf life, you big romantic?Ó She realized what sheÕd said and frowned
a little. Was it possible that
Spock actually was the bigger
romantic of the two of them?
ÒI
think it is extremely likely.Ó He
was pulling up her shirt, kissing his way to parts oh so naughty.
She
moaned and let him ease her to her back.
He removed her pants quickly, left her shirt on, got rid of his own
pants and was on top of her and in her, playing peekaboo with her shirt,
sucking under it, then through it.
He stopped his breast play to kiss her every so often. Long, sweet, happy-making kisses that
left her breathless.
ÒI
want to meld with you,Ó he said as he moved firmly and slowly inside her. ÒI want to be with you.Ó
SheÕd
wondered why heÕd waited. Was
suddenly glad he had. This wasnÕt
some pro forma meld, some thing they did when they had sex but meant
nothing. They could have great sex
without the meld.
He
had waited to ask for it. He had
waited till she was ready for it.
She
reached up, pressed his fingers into the meld points, and didnÕt let go as he
initiated the meld. It was more
intense than sheÕd ever felt it—or maybe he was just more open, going
deeper, not trying to keep her out as he enhanced their pleasure.
Emotion
spilled out of him. Emotion sheÕd
never felt from him. Sadness. Guilt. Anger. Frustration. None of those directed at her but
lingering for Jim and Valeris and his father and the Council.
Was
she not even in there?
But
then she felt it, pushing its way through the other emotions like a rude
commuter getting off a crowded shuttle.
Lust. Admiration. Affection. Enjoyment—such deep enjoyment of
her.
None
of it was love. But was love a
thing of its own? Or did all these things come together to make it? Over time, could these things be love?
She
realized he was waiting for her to finish her assessment. Had stopped moving inside her, was
pressing his fingers almost painfully into her cheekbone.
She
rocked her hips up into him, felt him push even harder into her temple and
almost cried out as the meld seemed to deepen on its own. She could feel how it felt for him to be
inside her. She could feel what he
was feeling of her own sensations.
It was almost dizzying: not being able to tell what was her and what was
him and what was just echoes of both of them. Endless, pleasurable echoes she could
follow down and down and--
ÒStay
with me,Ó he murmured and the meld eased off.
ÒOh
my God, Spock. What are you doing
to me?Ó
ÒThat
was too much. IÕm sorry.Ó He began to move. So tenderly it was clearly an apology.
ÒItÕs
all right,Ó she said. ÒSomeday it
wonÕt be too much.Ó And she pulled
him down to kiss her, the meld now only a light thrum in the background. ÒWhen IÕm sure you love me, I wonÕt be
afraid anymore.Ó
ÒYou
were barely afraid this time, Christine.
I thought I was going to lose you inside the connection.Ó
ÒIt
was like a drug.Ó
She
could tell the meld was still giving him a great deal of information about what
she was feeling. He built her up
and up and up and then didnÕt let her fall over, dialing back on the intensity,
leaving her pleading and kissing him and finally begging him to let her go, let
her fall. Let her come.
He
did and held her as she made noises that were barely human, the pleasure deep
and wild and almost painful. She
thought she was going to black out at one point but held on to consciousness
somehow.
When
it was over, Spock pushed damp hair off her face, studying her carefully. ÒDid I hurt you?Ó
ÒOh,
God, no. Or if you did, please do
it again.Ó
He
smiled. A real smile, as if he was
too lost in what had just happened to care that he looked a long way from a
proper Vulcan.
But
maybe that was the point?
ÒWhat
about you?Ó She was breathing hard,
and she could barely move, but she could feel he still needed release. ÒTake me. Take what you want any way you want it. I wonÕt break.Ó
ÒWhat
you ask...it is—Ó
ÒSavage.
Primal. Do it. IÕll let you know if itÕs too much.Ó
He
wanted to do it. She could tell
because he didnÕt argue. She lay,
half drunk from the pleasure heÕd given to her and let him pound into her. But it wasnÕt mindless. Not like the hottest parts of the Pon Farr. Spock
was watching her closely, holding her carefully to not injure her shoulder as
he thrust and claimed her.
His
cries, when he found release, did not sound human—or Vulcan—either
as he collapsed on top of her.
She
kissed his damp hair. ÒOh, my.Ó
ÒI
quite concur.Ó He rolled off to her
good side, lay wrapped around her, his lips nestled on her neck, nuzzling
lazily. ÒI have never let go
that way. Not without the Pon Farr being the impetus.Ó
ÒYou
liked it.Ó
He
was silent for a moment, then he tipped her chin so she was looking at
him. ÒI liked it with you.Ó
She
smiled.
ÒI
trusted you. I trusted myself with
you. I wanted to possess you, not
to hurt you.Ó
ÒYou
didnÕt hurt me. IÕm fine. IÕm more than fine.Ó She kissed him lazily, her tongue
finding his.
Then
they lay quietly, and he kissed her cheek and her forehead and her lips and she
let him do the work as she fell asleep in his arms, fully at peace.
##
Spock
let Christine sleep, reeling a little from what they had just done. But content as well.
They
had connected. In a way they never
had during the Pon Farrs. And the reason had been her
trust—and his need of her, as something well beyond just a willing body
to spill his seed in.
He
had wanted her, he had wanted to
bring her pleasure and take it in equal measure. To own her completely, to know she was
his and was not going to go away this time.
Even
if he had been the one to send her away all the other times.
It
was illogical. But then, if it was
love that was growing between them, that was to be expected.
He
tried to imagine Valeris telling him to let go, to take her fully. He could not visualize it, although it
was more and more apparent that perhaps she had indeed been keeping him at bay,
the same way he had with Christine.
Being less available the deeper they got.
It
was time to stop thinking about Valeris.
To stop worrying about why or how much or if. She was gone. SheÕd never loved him and no matter how
much Spock wanted that to not to be true, it was.
HeÕd
loved her and sheÕd never loved him back.
Just as Christine had loved him and heÕd never loved her.
But
did he now?
She
moaned softly, moved closer to him, her leg moving over his. In the past, it might have made him feel
claustrophobic. Now, he simply
tightened his hold on her, ran his fingers down her back lightly, making her
sigh in her sleep.
Maybe
his body had known best all along?
If heÕd listened to it after that first Pon
Farr and not sent her away? How
different would their lives have been?
He
remembered the words of the priestess at Gol, when he
had voiced discontent that it had taken him so long to seek Kolinahr
out. ÒEverything happens in its own
time, exactly to its own schedule.
The Spock who is destined to be at Gol is here
before me. The man of before, even
the man of after—for who knows what will come of this—are
irrelevant. This moment and the you
of this moment, that is the all of it.Ó
Even
if Gol had not proven his answer, some of the
insights gleaned there still rang true.
##
The
Gasteau
arrived before Chapel was ready to leave.
She hated to admit that some part of her was afraid of what waited off
this world, out from under this cloud.
SheÕd
been happy here. With nothing to
eat but MREs. With nothing to drink
but water and coffee. With no one
but Spock for company.
With
nothing to do except inventory the planet and have sex that got better and
better. Nothing to do but kiss and
hold each other, take long walks, and talk about this and that and, well,
everything.
It
was wonderful. But...was it real?
Or
would everything change now?
Spock
came and stood near her as he talked to the captain of the ship on his
communicator, the backpack already loaded and ready to go. She had nothing but the clothes on her
back and the small amount of items sheÕd salvaged from the shuttle, now in a
little bag Spock found inside his backpack. He seemed to know she would need to take
her stuff with her. Restricted and
all that.
ÒReady?Ó
he asked her.
She
nodded. She knew her face
wasnÕt the normal expression of someone about to be rescued.
ÒChristine?Ó
She
looked over at him.
He
gave her a smile. A real smile, even if a small one. And said, ÒI love you.Ó
ÒNow
you tell me.Ó
The
transporter took them. His smile
faded as they reformed, but he nodded and said, ÒEverything will be all right.Ó
And
then she was hustled off by someone she recognized from earlier days in
Ops—Turner? No, Tanner. Spock was led off elsewhere by another
crewman. She didnÕt look back, knew
she had a monster of a debrief waiting her. About the mission—not about Spock.
She
wasnÕt wrong. But Tanner did, at
least, ask if she needed to go to sickbay before they started.
ÒI
need to go there eventually. But
letÕs get this done.Ó
He
nodded and they spent the next several hours going over the mission, the
outcome, and what they would say to the families of Dominguez and Miller.
ÒAll
right, Commander,Ó Tanner said. ÒI
think I have it all. This is good
stuff. I know a lot of people will
be happy with what you got.Ó
ÒYeah. It came dear, though. Make sure they know that.Ó
He
nodded. ÒEnrique was my
friend. IÕm really sorry. I didnÕt know Miller.Ó
ÒNone
of us did. She was new.Ó
He
looked down. ÒTo the broken, the
missing, and the dead.Ó It was the
Ops toast. They had no booze but
she echoed with the customary, ÒNever forgotten.Ó
ÒI
heard youÕre maybe taking over Ops.Ó
ÒWhat? No.Ó
ÒWith
Cartwright gone and all. I mean now
that they know youÕre alive—they want you back tout suite.Ó
ÒI
think youÕre wrong. They talked to
me about the exec position.Ó
ÒMaÕam,
I have excellent sources of information.
I think you wonÕt have to worry about crashing again any time soon. Unless itÕs on an Earth shuttle.Ó
ÒRight
now, not crashing on cloud-infested worlds with nothing to eat and crappy
bathing facilities doesnÕt sound too bad.Ó
He
laughed. ÒI always enjoyed working
with you. I hope you get the nod. One of the good guys in charge.Ó
She
studied him. ÒAm I?Ó Did he mean because she wasnÕt part of
the conspiracy? Or because he was
sympathetic and thought she was too?
ÒHell,
yeah. I mean I have no love for
Klingons, and I know we do some pretty underhanded shit here in the back end of
Ops, but the Conspiracy was way beyond whatÕs right. Working with the Romulans and the Klingons? Jesus.Ó
She
nodded. ÒYeah. Someone needed a perspective
adjustment.Ó
ÒAnd
stat.Ó He closed up the file theyÕd
been working on. She knew no one
would be able to find it on his padd unless they knew exactly where to
look. ÒCommander, IÕm a little sick
of this gig. If you need someone
back at Command, IÕd love to get my feet back on the ground.Ó
ÒThanks,
Tanner. IÕll definitely keep you in
mind.Ó Although she knew if he was
right and she was selected, there would be a lot more former colleagues
darkening her door offering their services. It was just how things worked.
Tanner
took her to sickbay, and she could tell the doctor on duty was taken aback by
what she had done to her shoulder.
ÒIÕm
not sure I could have done this.Ó
ÒYouÕd
be surprised what you can do when youÕre out of options.Ó
HeÕd
nodded, but hadnÕt looked convinced.
Once he was done cleaning it up and checking out the rest of her, a
corpsman led her to guest quarters.
She resisted asking him where SpockÕs quarters were; he probably
wouldnÕt have known anyway.
She
lay down on the bed and groaned at the lovely comfort of a real mattress. She dozed off, woke when she heard the
door open.
Spock
walked in, backpack now gone.
ÒWell,
hello.Ó
ÒI
took some liberties,Ó he said, nodding at the bed.
ÒThis
ship doesnÕt come with double beds standard?Ó
ÒIt
does not. These are coupleÕs quarters.Ó
ÒYou
lied?Ó
ÒI
said we were together, which is not a lie, is it?Ó
She
smiled. Felt the worry that had
been growing all day fade away.
ÒItÕs not a lie. But they
donÕt normally let unmarried, unbounded couples shack up.Ó
ÒI
may have implied our connection was very significant.Ó
ÒYou
led them to the lie, then. That we
were married and deserving of a nice big bed.Ó
ÒThat
I accept.Ó He came over to the bed
and lay down next to her. ÒHave you
been to sickbay yet?Ó
ÒI
have. IÕm ship shape, sir.Ó She crawled on top of him. ÒAnd I heard the most interesting
rumor.Ó
ÒYes?Ó
She
nodded.
ÒAre
you going to tell me what it is?Ó
ÒNope. But itÕs about me and my next
assignment. I donÕt want to jinx
it.Ó
ÒVery
well. Will it take you far from
me?Ó
ÒNo
place is that far from you. You
write your own ticket.Ó
ÒTrue. And I would most assuredly write it to
allow me to see you.Ó
She
kissed him. ÒYou can be so sweet.Ó
A
slowly rising eyebrow was her only answer.
ÒWill you be on Earth?Ó
ÒMayyyyybe.Ó
ÒIf
you are on Earth, that would be convenient. It is my home base.Ó
ÒI
know.Ó She began to ride him, even
though they were both fully clothed.
He
moaned and rolled her off him, began to remedy the Òfully clothedÓ
problem. ÒIt would be pleasant to
be able to do this whenever we wished.Ó
ÒIs
that your roundabout way of asking me to move in with you?Ó
ÒNo.Ó
She immediately felt stupid and turned away.
He
looped a finger under her chin, very gently turned her back so she was looking
at him. ÒYou cannot move in with me
because I stay in the Visiting Officers Quarter whenever I am on Earth.Ó
ÒOh.Ó She knew she only sounded somewhat
mollified.
He
kissed her, slowly working her into a much better state of mind. ÒI would not be averse to securing more
permanent lodging. With you.Ó
ÒSo
you are asking me to move in with you?Ó
ÒI
am asking you to live with me. We
will both move in together. Equal
footing, is it not?Ó
She
pulled him on top of her. ÒYou can
be a very wise man.Ó
ÒI
am aware of this.Ó
ÒA
vain and pompous very wise man.Ó
He
busied himself with making her feel very, very good.
She
sighed happily. ÒA vain and pompous
wise man who is, fortunately for him, extremely talented in bed.Ó She rolled him off her, climbed on top
of him, and held his arms over his head.
ÒDo you really love me?Ó
ÒI
do.Ó
ÒHow
do you know?Ó
ÒI
just do.Ó He freed his arms with
very little effort and rolled her onto her back again. He lost no time in moving over her, into
her, distracting the hell out of her with very good sex.
ÒThe
walls are not terribly soundproof on this ship,Ó he said, as he put his hand
over her mouth as she began to come.
She
returned the favor for him.
Afterwards,
they lay together, her curled around him, and he said, ÒIÕd like to live by the
water.Ó
ÒReally?Ó
He
nodded.
ÒThose
places are expensive.Ó
ÒThat
is not a problem provided that you, too, would like that.Ó
She
kissed him. ÒI love the water.Ó
ÒThen
it is settled. That is where we
will look.Ó
ÒWhen
we move in together?Ó
ÒYes.Ó
ÒWhat
if I donÕt get the job on Earth?Ó
ÒWill
you not still want a choice in the house you would inhabit whenever you are
here?Ó
ÒWow,
presumptuous.Ó
He
began to run his fingers lower and lower and lower and—oh, holy
crap. ÒChristine, I believe it would
be difficult to engage in these kinds of activities if you chose to live
somewhere else.Ó
She
nodded. Words were a bit advanced
at the moment.
ÒI
want you to live with me, Christine.
I want to live with you. We
have been cohabiting for the last three weeks quite successfully.Ó
ÒNot
a house, a whole planet,Ó she managed to get out before his amazing fingers
sent her back into a word-free place.
ÒAgreed. We will have to make concessions. But the amenities will be much improved
from that planet.Ó
She
nodded, then gritted out, ÒSpock, for GodÕs sake, finish me off.Ó
He
didnÕt. Not for a long time. Not until she said, ÒPlease.Ó
She
lay like a ragdoll in his arms and murmured, ÒI love you.Ó
He
pulled her close and kissed her, his hands working on her again but this time
in a soothing, not arousing, way.
As she fell asleep, she heard him say, ÒAnd I you, Christine.Ó
##
Spock
walked into Emergency Ops, unsure of the reception he would get. Even if those left from CartwrightÕs
time had been cleared of any wrongdoing, they still might harbor sympathies for
their old C.O., if not the cause.
He
saw some hard looks from a few, but most just nodded to him or were working
intently and didnÕt see him as he walked to ChristineÕs office.
The
job she hadnÕt been willing to jinx had been offered to her. Head of Emergency Ops. It was an outstanding assignment. One that she clearly deserved. And she hadnÕt hesitated to take it.
She
looked up as he stood in her doorway watching her. ÒHowdy, sailor.Ó
He
could feel his mouth turning up and fought the expression. She was a bad influence on him.
He
was not, however, complaining.
ÒYou
ready?Ó At his nod, she turned off
her terminal and got up. ÒSo you
think this is the one?Ó
ÒI
do.Ó He said that every time and it
never was. He had not expected
house hunting to be as difficult as it had proven. Christine was being excessively
selective and he suspected it was because she wanted to see if he would grow
weary of the search—and by extension her.
He
had not. If she wanted to make him
work for the experience of living with her, he was not opposed to that. As in any negotiation, the longer you
fought for the win, the more you valued it.
Not
that they were fighting. Far from
it. When they werenÕt looking for a
place to live, they were quite compatible.
It
was a short walk to the transport heÕd reserved, a longer ride to a house that
sat on the cliffs. They stood at
the top of the curving walkway and looked at the house.
It
was small. Barely more than a
cottage. She bumped into his arm,
an easy way she showed affection without being overtly demonstrative. ÒDecided against opulence this time?Ó
ÒYou
said the last house was overdone.Ó
ÒThatÕs
because it was overdone.Ó She took
his hand and he let her, following behind her as she led him to the door. Then she stopped and did whatever
mystical meditation she practiced when standing on the threshold of property
she might someday secure.
ÒYour
verdict?Ó he asked.
ÒItÕs
feeling like a winner. But the proof
is just beyond this door.Ó
He
put his hand to the annunciator, and it opened for them. Programmed by their realtor.
The
house was unfurnished and very clean.
And while the area that faced the street had few windows, the front was
a solid wall of them. They could
see the water below them, crashing on rocks.
She
walked to the windows and stared out.
He stood behind her, his arms around her waist, and said, ÒThis is
beautiful.Ó
ÒYes
it is.Ó She turned and kissed him,
a sweet and happy kiss that he took as a good sign for perhaps securing a
domicile before they retired from Starfleet.
They wandered through the rest of the house. A kitchen that appealed to
him—Christine didnÕt cook; the Plomeek soup had
been the exception not the rule, and now that she had him, sheÕd said she
didnÕt intend to expand her repertoire.
Now
that she had him. He smiled. SheÕd actually said that. Finally.
Two
guest rooms in back were pleasant, if small, but the master bedroom had the
same view as the salon, looking out on the water.
She
turned to him and smiled. ÒDo
you like it?Ó
ÒI
do.Ó
ÒI
do, too.Ó
He
decided to refrain from pointing out that this house either lacked things that
sheÕd felt crucial in other houses or had things sheÕd said she hated. Like in any other part of life, it was
often less the elements than the synthesis.
ÒCall
the realtor,Ó she said.
He
made the call from the house communicator, but only after Christine had done
something to the outgoing channel.
She gave him an innocent look with much batting of eyelashes and said,
ÒWe donÕt want to give anything away.Ó
ÒOf
course not.Ó The arrangements were
easy. Their realtor handled the
negotiations, and since the sellers were off world, their broker signed the
deal. The access codes were reset
and a moment later, Spock and Christine stood at their new windows and took in
the view.
Spock
cut the channel and Christine moved in again and did something else he couldnÕt
quite follow to the comm system. ÒGonna have to
get that upgraded,Ó she muttered, and he decided not to point out the system
was already state of the art.
ÒThis
is our house, Spock.Ó
ÒIndeed.Ó He checked to the sides of their house. No neighbors within view. No boats anywhere nearby. He pulled Christine to him, began to
take off her uniform, then his own.
ÒDid
I say you could do that?Ó
ÒYou
did not.Ó He pushed her against the
window, hiked her up and then lowered her onto him. She arched her back and leaned her head
against the window, riding him, murmuring something he couldnÕt quite catch.
When
they finished, they sat naked in front of the window, her inside the ring of
his legs, leaning back against him as they watched the sunset from their house.
Their house.
It
had the most satisfying ring he could imagine.
She
ran her hands over his bare thighs and sighed.
ÒHappy?Ó
he asked.
ÒI
am.Ó She sighed again as he wrapped
his arms around her. ÒYou?Ó
He
could have told her happiness was an emotion. He could have told her real Vulcans did
not seek happiness. He could have
told her any number of things that would have been true for the old Spock, the
one who only wanted a pure Vulcan.
Instead,
he just said, ÒYes.Ó
FIN