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) 2002 by Djinn. This story
is Rated PG.
Once Upon a Shore Leave
by Djinn
Christine Chapel woke slowly
and sat up with a groan. Her short black dress had pulled up and she was
chilled where her bare skin had rested on the stone floor. Either this had been
the best shore leave ever or something had gone very wrong on the way down to
the Amusement Park Planet. She looked over and saw Spock lying on the floor
next to her. He appeared to be sleeping peacefully, his chest moving up and
down in a slow, sure rhythm. She leaned down to kiss him, thinking maybe this
was the best shore leave ever, after all.
"Miss Chapel. What
exactly are you doing?" He was staring at her with a look of alarm.
She stopped, her lips not
quite touching his before pulling away with a start. "Mister Spock?"
"You were expecting
someone else?" He sat up gingerly, touching his head. "I do not
remember anything other than beaming down."
She nodded. "Same here."
He stood up and surveyed
their surroundings. Chapel pushed herself to her feet with a groan and watched
as he walked around a room they appeared to be trapped in.
"There are no exits, no
windows, no skylights, no visible means of access." He touched the wall.
"The stone wall seems to be created from one complete piece of material. There
are no seams or mortar. Yet despite all this, the air is fresh." He looked
over at her. "You do not remember anything?"
She shook her head.
"Where were you beaming
down to?" he asked, as he knelt to examine the spot where the floor met
the wall.
"To the planet."
"For shore leave?"
"No, for a lecture on
hygiene—of course for shore leave." She tried to tug her dress down a bit
but gave up when she noticed that her actions only pulled it lower than it
already was on top.
Spock ignored her. "I,
too, was on my way to the planet."
"What for?"
He shot her a look. "For
shore leave, Miss Chapel."
"Shore leave? You?"
She laughed outright.
"Doctor McCoy convinced
me that I might find shore leave, if properly utilized, refreshing. I decided
to see if he was correct."
She frowned. "McCoy's
the one who convinced me to come here too. I'd planned to stay on the
ship."
"Intriguing
coincidence," he said, rising slowly. "There is no seam where the
wall meets the floor either. This entire space seems to be carved out of one
piece of rock. There is no way in and no way out."
"Yet here we are."
"We were beamed in, obviously."
"Great." She kicked
at the wall softly.
"Which means that the Enterprise
can beam us out."
"If they even know we
are gone. And if they can find us."
"When, not if. They will
find us."
She laughed. "Who knew
you were such a Pollyanna?"
He raised an eyebrow slowly.
"Ooh, points off for
lack of familiarity with classic Terran literature." At his look, she
explained, "It means an irrepressible optimist."
"Ah."
"I can't believe you
never read it. Wasn't your mother a teacher?"
"Yes, a teacher of
linguistics, not literature."
"Still, Mister Spock, we're
talking the classics. Treasure Island, Moby Dick, Alice in
Wonderland."
"My father found such
works bad for my character."
"Even The Adventures
of Tom Sawyer?"
Spock seemed to sigh. "Especially
that one. I..."
"You what?"
"I read that one when I
was very young. It made quite an impression on me. In fact, I decided that I
could gain good will with my father and his neighbors if I whitewashed our
house."
"What was wrong with
that?"
"Our house was made of
sandstone. A rare color of dark reddish brown."
"Oh."
He nodded. "It took eight
months, four days, five hours, sixteen minutes and forty-seven seconds for it
to fade."
"Yikes."
He didn't respond, just began
another sweep of the wall, looking for what she wasn't sure. When he was
halfway around, he turned to her. "What I cannot resolve is why you are
here?"
"It's your worst
nightmare?"
"Possibly."
"It's certainly not my
fantasy either."
He studied her. "What
exactly was your fantasy?"
"Well now, that
question's a little intrusive, don't you think?"
"Not if the answer is
relevant to our situation."
"I wanted to spend some
time alone with you," she mumbled.
"What?"
"I wanted to spend some
time alone with you." She turned away and could feel her cheeks flushing.
"It appears you got your
wish."
"This isn't what I had
in mind, Mister Spock." She sighed wistfully. "I was thinking a
secluded but tastefully appointed bungalow. Champagne, chocolates,
caviar."
"I do not eat
caviar."
"Well, the robot Spock
might have." She frowned at him. "So us being here is obviously not
my fault. That leaves you. What was your little shore-leave scenario?"
"To solve a
near-impossible problem."
She just stared at him.
He stared back. "What?"
"That was your idea of
relaxation. To solve a near-impossible problem?"
"Yes, it was." He
turned away. "At least my idea did not involve a facsimile of a fellow
crew member." He looked over at her. "I suppose I do not wish to know
what you planned to do with this copy of me. Although by your attire, I can
only assume the worst."
"You don't like this
dress?"
He didn't answer.
"So I guess the robot
you wouldn't have either."
"There is nothing wrong
with the dress."
"Then you do like
it?"
"I did not say that,
Miss Chapel."
"So you don't like
it."
"The dress is very
nice."
She smiled. "So what do
you like about it?"
"Miss Chapel, the dress
is irrelevant." His words were clipped, his voice louder than normal.
She held up her hands. "Fine.
Never mind." She ran her hand along the stone wall. "So why are we
here then?"
"Perhaps with such
similar scenarios the planet decided to conserve resources and simply put us
together."
"Logical."
"Or Doctor McCoy had
something to do with this."
"He knows how this place
works and has an in with the caretaker." She nodded. "I'm going to
kill him as soon as I get out of here."
"Not if I do it first."
"We could do it together.
Would serve him right. And be poetic justice."
"Indeed." He
studied the wall and appeared to be calculating something.
She was quiet for a while,
not wanting to interrupt his figuring. But then her stomach growled loudly.
He looked over at her.
"What? I'm hungry? Can't
a girl be hungry?"
"If you had stayed on the
ship, you would even now be sitting down to a meal."
"Right, because this is
my fault."
He didn't answer.
"You couldn't have asked
for a lavishly catered near-impossible problem?"
"I was not expecting
guests."
"Big surprise
there." She looked up. "You know, this sort of reminds me of a tower.
Like in a fairy tale." She glanced over at him. "I don't suppose you
read those either?"
"I did not. But I'm sure
you are well versed on such fantasies."
"Okay, that was just
mean." She scowled at him but he didn't look up from the wall. "I do
happen to remember some of them."
"And I'm certain that
you will enlighten me."
"Well, the most obvious
one is Rapunzel. She was a beautiful maiden trapped in a tower by an old woman.
A prince fell in love with her and would call up to her. And she would let her extremely
long hair down from the window. He would climb up her hair to be with
her."
"That sounds like a
painful experience for the maiden. This story is obviously not useful as we
have no windows and your hair is not that long."
"Plus you're not a
prince."
"Actually, I am."
"What?"
He turned to look at her. "If
you were to translate my Vulcan rank to its Terran equivalent, prince would be
the closest term."
She stared at him. "I
stand corrected. I think it's safe to say, I'm not a princess."
"That much is certain."
"Or a beautiful maiden."
He said nothing.
"Well, at least you
don't insult me to my face."
He looked over at her again. "I
said nothing because I am unsure as to how to define maiden and whether it
applies to you. As for beautiful, that is surely a subjective concept."
She looked down. "Surely."
There was a long silence. She
didn't look up, feeling like an idiot as she blinked back tears.
"I am sure many men find
you beautiful, Christine."
"Thanks a bunch." She
realized what he'd just called her and looked over at him.
He was staring at her. "I'm
sure the robot Spock would have found you beautiful."
"Really?"
His eyes were gentle as he
nodded. "I think he would have liked your dress."
She nodded then turned away.
"It is most
attractive." He met her eyes as she turned back to look at him in shock. "Black
is flattering to your coloring. But I do not remember you wearing it
before."
She laughed. "I wear
black all the time. You just never see me when I'm off duty. What? Did you
think my entire wardrobe was made up of light blue?"
He looked uncomfortable.
"Oh God, you did." She
shook her head. "There's a lot you don't know about me. Which I guess is
kind of the point of this whole little fantasy thing with you...I mean the
robot you. It wasn't what you think." At his look of skepticism, she
blushed. "Okay, maybe it was sort of what you think. But mostly it was so
I could say goodbye."
"You are going
somewhere?"
"Figuratively," she
said. "You know. Goodbye to the whole fantasy, the crush, the infatuation.
Whatever you want to call this whole 'I love Spock' bull. Adios. Sayonara. Good
riddance. Don't let the door hit you on the way out. Get the hell out of—"
"I believe I grasp the
concept." He turned back to the wall.
"Are you upset?" She
walked toward him. "You're upset, aren't you?"
"I am not upset. That is
an emotion." He moved away from her. "You said there were other fairy
stories that had a tower?"
"Fairy tales. And yes,
there are. There's Rumpelstiltskin. But that may have been a dungeon, not a
tower."
Spock shot her a glance. He
clearly didn't see how it mattered.
"Fine, at any rate,
there was a beautiful princess—don't say a word, Spock—who was locked in the
tower until she could spin straw into gold."
"That is
impossible."
"Well near-impossible,
at any rate." She laughed. "Luckily for her this dwarf came by. Or
maybe he was an imp or an elf or a goblin or something." She waited for
the look that told her to get on with it. She wasn't disappointed. "I'm
sure whatever he was, he had pointed ears."
He ignored the jibe. "Did
he get her out of the tower?"
Chapel had to think about
that. "I'm pretty sure he did. Well, she did actually. She guessed his
name and he stomped himself right into hell. I think."
"Your storytelling
skills leave something to be desired. I will refrain from asking why she had to
guess his name." He gave up on the wall, turned and faced her with his
arms crossed against his chest.
"Good, because I've kind
of forgotten that part." She smiled sheepishly. "I read these a long
time ago, Spock." She sighed. "The only other one I remember is
Sleeping Beauty. A beautiful princess—"
"It is never an ugly
princess, is it? Or a plain but vastly intelligent princess? Humans are
obsessed with beauty."
"Spock. Please. I've yet
to see a homely Vulcan. You have no room to talk."
"Proceed with the
story."
"Sleeping Beauty was
cursed and on her sixteenth birthday...or was it eighteenth?" She saw his
look and hurried to continue. "Well one of those, she pricked her finger
on a spinning wheel needle and fell asleep for a hundred years. In a tower,
surrounded by thorns."
"That is the
story?"
"No, there's a prince of
course."
"Of course. A handsome
one, no doubt?"
"Does anyone want an
ugly one, Spock? Come on, you said it yourself: we're obsessed with
beauty."
"Indeed."
"So this prince, he
hears about her and he wants her and he hacks his way through the thorn bushes,
and climbs the many stairs to the tower..." She noticed that Spock was
walking toward her slowly. "And, uh, he comes to the room where the
princess lies sleeping."
"Yes?" He was
standing right in front of her.
"Yes. And he tries to
wake her up."
"But she does not
wake?"
"No. He has to kiss
her."
"Ah. Of course." Spock
turned and walked back to the wall. "A kiss would wake her up?"
"In this case. And in
Snow White's too. But there wasn't a tower in that one."
"I think these fairy
stories are not helping us, Christine."
"But you didn't even
try." Chapel's voice sounded pathetic, even to her.
"Well, you are not
asleep. There are no thorns to fight through, and no curse that put us here. I
must use logic to figure this out. I must forget you are here and
concentrate."
Stung, she turned away. "That
sounds like a great idea, Mr. Spock. You just forget I'm here. You just forget
that you were about to kiss me until you thought better of it..." Chapel
was suddenly very dizzy. She took a breath but didn't feel like the air was
reaching her lungs. The world started to spin. She didn't mean to call out to
him, didn't want to reach out as she started to fall. "Spock?"
He was there in an instant,
easing her down to the cold floor. "What is it?"
She could barely keep her
eyes open. "Can't breathe. No air."
"The air is fine,
Christine. You are fine." His voice sounded very far away. "Christine?"
She felt her strength giving
out. "Spock?" And then she felt something else, something strange. Something
touching her lips, pressing on them. She groaned and the pressure increased. It
took her a long time to realize Spock was kissing her.
She opened her eyes and saw
muted sunlight coming in from the windows of a snug and wonderfully warm
bungalow. Champagne on ice and fancy chocolates sat on the table by the bed
that she and Spock were lying on. "What the hell?" she said as he
pulled away from her.
"We appear to be free of
the tower." He stood up and walked to the door. "It was the most
logical choice of action."
"Logical?"
"Yes, logical," he
said firmly as he reached for the door and opened it.
They were immediately back in
the tower again. She started to laugh and he turned to glare at her.
"You find this
funny?"
She nodded. "In that
really bad way when you're at the end of your rope."
He walked toward her. Pulling
her to him, he kissed her soundly. When he drew away, they were back in the
bungalow. He pushed himself off the bed and headed for the door. As he tried to
go out the door, the bungalow disappeared and they were back in the tower. He
stalked over to her and reached for her again, but she held up a hand.
"You're a stubborn man,
Spock."
He stared at her.
"It's either your
fantasy or mine. This"—she pulled his face down to hers and kissed him
gently—"appears to be the way out of yours. But obviously the door is not
the way out of mine."
He raised an eyebrow.
"I was supposed to say
goodbye, remember?" She looked over at the champagne. "Sayonara."
"Good riddance," he
said softly.
She nodded. "I think
that's the only way for this to end. You solved your near-impossible problem. But
I haven't solved mine yet." She turned to him and ran her hand down his
face, then moved it to stroke his ear. "I've always wanted to do
that."
He closed his eyes at her
touch.
She forced herself to pull
away from him. "I won't get the fantasy part. But that's okay. It wasn't
right to think I could have that, I suppose." She looked down. "I'm
sorry, Spock. Sorry I thought it was okay to make you part of this, even a
robot you."
She looked back up at him. "I've
loved you—thought I loved you, anyway, for a long time. But I guess you can't
really love someone you don't even know. I mean I think this is the longest
conversation we've ever had. Isn't it?"
He nodded.
"That's really
sad." She laughed as a bitter feeling crashed over her. "This crush I
have on you isn't healthy for me."
"Or for me?" he
asked.
She laughed. "I doubt
that for you it's much more than an occasional annoyance. It's not like you're
suffering from feelings you don't want to have." She took his hand and led
him to the door. "I'm sorry if I've ever embarrassed you. I know I've
embarrassed myself. Goodbye." She opened the door and watched him walk
through into the sunshine—finally free of her fantasy.
He turned to look at her, his
hand resting on the door.
"I'm sorry for
everything," she said as she turned her back on him and walked over to the
bedside table. She lifted the champagne out of the ice bucket. "Here's to
me," she said softly, trying not to cry as she peeled off the foil.
"You are dripping ice
water on the bed." Spock's voice behind her made her jump.
She turned. "No, I don't
want the robot."
"I am not the
robot."
"Then why do you care
about water on the bed?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Neither
of us will want to sleep on that side, which could lead to a
disagreement."
She was so confused. "We'd
never disagree otherwise."
"Certainly not." He
took the champagne from her and began to take off the wire muzzle.
She snatched the bottle away.
"Spock! You'll put your eye out that way. Haven't you ever opened one of
these before?"
"I have not."
"Then let me show
you." She carefully pointed the bottle away from her face as she opened
it.
"Is the cork not supposed
to fly wildly at the ceiling?"
"You've been watching
too many Terran vids."
"And the champagne is
not supposed to spray out?"
"Why waste it?"
"Logical." He took
the bottle and poured two glasses. "No caviar?"
"I noticed that," she
said as she took the glass. "Curious."
"Curious indeed."
He raised his glass. "We should toast the end of your infatuation with
me."
She studied him. His
expression was even. "I guess we should."
As she raised her glass to
his, he said, "We should also toast the beginning of our getting to know
each other in a more meaningful way."
She frowned. "You're not
Spock. You really are the robot." She turned away.
"No. I am not."
"Prove it."
He turned her to face him. "I
like your dress."
"Why?"
"Because the color
flatters you." He set his glass down on the table.
She frowned, still unsure.
"I left something out
when I told you I liked your dress earlier." He took her glass from her
and set it down on the table next to his.
"You did?"
He nodded, running a finger
down the front of the dress. "It enhances your beauty."
She could feel herself
blushing. "Thank you."
"One does not thank
truth." He moved closer.
She shook her head. "You
don't have to do this."
"I believe I do."
"Why?"
"I must solve this
problem."
"What if it is
near-impossible."
He pulled her into his arms
and kissed her gently. "It is very near."
She smiled. "But what if
it is impossible?"
"Oh, it is impossible. Maddeningly
impossible."
She grinned. "Really?"
"Distractingly
impossible."
"That's a shame."
"Yes," he said as
he unfastened her dress. "It is." As the dress slid off her, he
stared at her. "You would make a beautiful princess."
She smiled. "Flattery
will get you everywhere, Spock." As he moved in to kiss her, she said,
"Why?"
He stopped. "Why did I
come back?"
She nodded.
"You intrigue me." He
ran his hands over her. "And I find that you move me. In ways I did not
expect."
"And you like to argue
with me," she said with a laugh.
"I do," he agreed
as he pushed her onto the bed and followed her down. "Very much."
"I don't want to argue
right now."
"Neither do I. Fascinating."
She laughed as she pulled him
down to her. Much later, as they lay wrapped in each other's arms, she asked,
"Was he right?"
Spock tightened his hold on
her. "Who?"
"McCoy?"
"I believe he was correct
that shore leave, if properly utilized, can be most refreshing."
"You believe?"
He nodded as he pulled her to
him. "Fortunately, there are many hours left to test out his theory."
Hours. She tried to pull
away.
"Did I say something
wrong?"
She shook her head. It wasn't
his fault that she'd thought this was more than a shore-leave fling. She tried
to pull away from him again but his grip was like iron.
"Christine?"
"It's nothing."
"No, you are suddenly upset.
Why?" There was a long silence. Then he said softly, "Do you not wish
to spend the hours remaining in our shore leave with me?"
She rolled over and stared at
him. "Of course I do."
"Then why are you
upset?"
She looked down.
"I cannot guess, Christine."
"I just thought...it was
stupid...I thought maybe..." She couldn't finish.
He looked severely confused.
"I thought that this was
more than just a fling."
"A fling?"
"A one night...well, two-nights
in this case, stand." She pulled away again. "How stupid is
that?"
"You think I do not want
to see you after we get back on the ship?"
"Do you?"
He nodded.
"You do?"
"Yes." He stroked
her face gently. "Near-impossible problems are usually solved using an
approach of trial and error over the course of a long period of time."
"That's true." She
looked up at him searchingly. "So you didn't mean that this was only
for..."
He shook his head.
"That's good," she
said with a small smile. "So trial and error, huh?"
"I will endeavor to
avoid the errors whenever possible," he said as he leaned in to kiss her.
"I endorse that plan
heartily."
"But I'm sure there will
be some errors that occur."
She nodded. "I'm sure
there will be."
She forgot about errors and
anything else but Spock for a long time. She was settling back into his arms
when he asked, "How do those fairy tales of yours end?"
She smiled. "And they
all lived happily ever after."
He considered that. "That
is highly illogical. Even the most evolved species will find things to disagree
on from time to time—"
"Spock. Shut up." She
silenced any retort he was going to make with a long kiss.
FIN