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) 2010 by Djinn. This story
is Rated R.
Only Logical
by Djinn
It's
uncomfortable, when Chapel passes the Spock of her reality in the corridors of
the Enterprise. It's uncomfortable
for both of them, as he scrutinizes her with that oh-so-Vulcan look that her
Spock doesn't seem to use the same way.
Her Spock. This
Spock. Too many Spocks.
This Spock knows
she's sleeping with her Spock. Not all the time, obviously. Only when she's on
leave, on the planet that has come to be known as New Vulcan even if the
Vulcans haven't decided on a name yet.
Names are
important. Names aren't things to be given lightly, to be designated quickly.
Just as this Spock
won't use her given name even though he knows that another version of him is
having sex with her. He insists on calling her "Miss Chapel" or
"Nurse Chapel."
Just as her Spock
has never learned to shorten Christine to Chris, the name she prefers. No one
here calls her that, except Kirk, but she thinks he does it because he likes to
call her that, not because he knows she wants to be called that.
She doesn't
correct Kirk, though. It's nice hearing someone call her by the name she prefers.
She hurries, telling
herself to stop worrying about what people call her. She's on her way to the
transporter room. Sarek is beaming over, on a mission that doesn't include her
Spock. The two men have not warmed up to each other despite months of trying. Years,
actually, if she considers all the time her Spock had to work on the
relationship with his version of the Vulcan who now beams in and stands so tall
on the pad. He's vital, strong.
He's younger than
her Spock, his son-non-son.
"Hello,
Christine."
"It's
Chris," she says, the words coming out as vicious snaps. It's not his
fault that her Spock can't get her name right; Sarek has no way of knowing he
should call her something else. Even calling her Christine is a great
concession on his part.
"I am sorry. I
did not realize." He steps off the pad and walks over to her. "Shall
we start again?"
"Sir, I was
so rude right then. Please forgive me. It's been—" She shrugs. There's no
excuse for her behavior.
"It never
happened. All right? Chris?" Sarek's eyes are
gentle. The way her Spock's get when he looks at her. The way she's seen the
other Spock's eyes become around Uhura.
"Thank
you," she says softly. "Spock wanted me to be here when you beamed
over."
"It was kind
of him to think of me."
"He often
does." She knows this is true, even if he doesn't always think of Sarek
kindly. Yet he tries to please him. By doing things like this, easy things,
having his woman meet his father-not-father and make him comfortable on the
ship.
Sarek nods for
them to get moving. He strides lightly. He looks like he'd have been
comfortable no matter who met him.
##
"Nurse
Chapel," the other Spock says to her, nodding slightly as she sits near
him and Uhura for a concert.
"Sir."
Uhura smiles at
her, in the neutral way colleagues who aren't friends have of smiling at each
other. "Hello, Christine."
"Nyota."
Sarek comes in. He
sees her and walks over, taking the seat next to her, leaving a seat between
him and Spock. He nods at his son. "Spock."
"Father."
Spock looks unsure and stares at the empty seat as if it might rise up and bite
him, then back at his father with almost the same look. "If I had known
you were coming...?"
She glances at
Sarek. Her Spock knew Sarek was coming, but this Spock didn't?
This Spock
continues, his face slightly flushed, as if he's angry or embarrassed—or
possibly both, "The manifest said only that a Vulcan envoy was coming. Had
I known it was you...?"
"I did not
want you to go to any trouble, my son."
"It would
have been no trouble." Spock glares at her, as if he knows she's gone to
some trouble.
She looks away,
unwilling to be part of this. She knows this Spock wouldn't be happy to know
her Spock got the jump on him.
"Nurse Chapel
was most accommodating," Sarek says, apparently unaware of just how that
sounds given her fondness for Vulcans—or one of them, anyway.
Nyota's eyebrows go up,
and she glances at her Spock, who manages to keep his face neutral.
"Excellent,
then." Spock meets her eyes and his go hard. "And how is...?" He
trails off, clearly unsure how to refer to his other self, his older self.
"He
prospers." It's the accepted answer these days.
Spock barely nods,
as if he doesn't care about her response, even if he did ask.
When she's on New
Vulcan, her Spock will grill her in the same casually uncaring way about the
other Spock. It's all she ever talks about, it seems. One to the other. Each
pretending not to care and making her crazy with the act.
Sarek seems to
take pity on her; he turns to his son, says, "The other Spock is, of
course, very different than you, my son. So many choices lie ahead, and you do
not have to make the same ones he has." Sarek sounds as if he disapproves
of those choices.
Chapel looks down:
she's one of those choices.
"I did not
mean you, Chris." Sarek's voice is pitched low,
but she can tell by the way the other Spock stiffens that he heard what Sarek
called her. She sees Nyota's eyebrow go up again. Is
she learning that from her Spock? Copying it? Chapel resolves to make sure she
isn't doing the same thing.
"Thank you,
sir."
"Sarek. You
must call me Sarek."
"Sarek."
He sits back,
everything apparently fine in his world. Chapel can feel herself blushing, can
sense Spock glancing over at her, as if she holds the key to a room he's never been able to open.
At the
intermission, she pleads a headache and flees.
##
"Sarek spoke
most highly of you and your hospitality," her Spock says when she's again
on the planet, in his bed, lying beside him.
"It was
nothing."
"I think he
is fond of you."
This isn't the
pillow talk she hoped for as she rode the shuttle to be with him. "He's
just being polite, Spock."
He seems to
consider that, then shakes his head. "No, I believe he approves of
you."
"Can we not
talk about Sarek immediately after having sex?"
He meets her eyes
and frowns slightly. "I am...sorry."
"Good." She
rolls over. It's been a long several weeks and she's exhausted from working
extra shifts trying to earn more leave so she could stay longer this time.
"Are you all
right, Christine?"
"I'm fine. Just
tired. Is it okay if I sleep?"
As if he'd ever
say no to that? He's kind and generous, her Spock. She knows he knew her
counterpart in his own reality. She knows that Chapel never won him, yet he's
decided that she's worthy. He won't tell her things about her other life, even
if it's a life she'll probably never lead given all the changes he's indicated
have been wrought since the Narada came through.
"I care
deeply for you, Christine." His voice is low, husky. It would make her
happy, this declaration, if she didn't think that he was fully capable of using
the word love and meaning it.
But, in a way, she's
glad he hasn't used the word. She isn't sure why she's with him. She likes the
sex. She loves the discussions about science. She finds it interesting to be
with a man who's seen and done so much.
But she doesn't
think she loves him. "I care deeply for you, too, Spock."
It isn't a lie. Not
if it's possibly true.
##
Another visit, and
she walks. It's becoming a ritual, strolling through the settlement, alone,
waiting for Spock. Each time she comes, now, she does it.
She's just never
timed her walk so she arrives at Sarek's building at
the midday meal break.
"Chris."
He says it so easily it makes her smile. "You are on leave?"
"I am." She
should get moving. She should keep walking.
"Have you
eaten?" He immediately looks down. "But, no, you were of course
planning to eat with Spock."
It's funny how
Sarek can call both of them Spock and not seem to have any confusion. His son
Spock and this other Spock.
"Spock is
busy with an experiment." He's been busy with this same experiment for two
days. It hurts her that he can't put it aside while she's here. It hurts more
because she knows he didn't have to start it when he did; he knew she was
coming and embarked on it anyway, knowing it would steal time from them.
"Spock is
perhaps a fool."
She laughs at the
almost droll expression on his face. "I think so, in this case."
"You made a
special trip, I assume?"
"I did. Worked
extra shifts to stay longer."
"He is
miscalculating badly." Sarek indicates she should walk with him. "Does
he do this often?"
It's the height of
rudeness to ask this, not very Vulcan to show this kind of curiosity about
someone else's relationship. That he's asking about Spock makes it more
perverse.
She shouldn't
answer. She should change the subject. She should tell him to mind his own
business. Instead, she says, "More and more."
"Then he
clearly does not appreciate what he has."
She looks down. "He's
very busy. There's much to do here."
"My wife Amanda
used to tell me that on most occasions, nothing is more important than the
people we love."
"You loved
her?"
He looks as if he
might tell her she's inferred too much from his statement, but then he takes a
deep breath and says, "Yes, I loved her."
"I'm very
sorry for your loss."
"As am I. She
was...my world."
"She and
Spock."
He looks down. "I
think you know too much of my history with your version of my son to believe
that. I...try with Spock. But it is never easy." He
glances at her. "Was your relationship with your parents satisfying?"
"I loved
them. Deeply. They were very good to me."
"They are
dead?"
"Yes. Transport
crash on Mars."
"I am
sorry."
"I was
fourteen when it happened. My father's sister raised me." Chapel's shrink
has told her she's attracted to Spock partly to fill the void of having lost
her father. She's not sure if this is true or not.
"That could
not have been easy."
"Losing those
we love never is. You know that well."
He nods. "I
will be bold, Chris. I will ask you what you asked me. Do you love Spock?"
She meets his eyes
amd finds a lie but can't get it past
her lips. Finally, she shrugs.
"Interesting,"
he says, and for a moment, she thinks his eyes gleam.
She swallows hard.
"You invited me to lunch, I believe?"
"I did."
He indicates a dwelling just ahead, opens the door and then steps back to let
her enter first. It is scrupulously clean. And soon he has it smelling of rich
Vulcan foods he reheats in the warmer.
They eat slowly,
talking at times, silent at others. Finally, he rises and starts to clear the
table. "I do not wish to end this most pleasant meal, but I must return to
my work."
"Of
course." She hands him a few dishes. "Thank you. You made my
afternoon pass more quickly."
"It was no
trouble." His eyes shine again for a moment, a subdued twin of her Spock's
slightly easier expressions. He walks her to Spock's house before heading back
to work.
Spock doesn't come
home for many hours. When he does, he fixes dinner, and makes love to her. But
he doesn't ask her how she spent her day.
##
"We have a
visitor, Christine." McCoy's gesturing at the doorway of sickbay. "And
I don't think he's here to see me demonstrate my amazing medical
know-how."
She glances over
and sees Sarek standing, watching her, clearly watching her.
"What have we
here?" McCoy is laughing, and she'd slug him if she could do it without
Sarek seeing. "Go on. See what the august personage who is Spock's father
wants."
"You're an
ass."
"That's
Doctor Ass to you, missy." He turns away, still chuckling.
She walks with as
much dignity as she can muster over to the doorway. "Sarek."
"Chris."
She smiles. "You
do that so well." Her voice is too familiar, too friendly. She tries to
dial back her smile. Fails utterly. "What can I do for you?"
"I am here for
the Vendirian trade negotiations."
"Boring."
He concedes with a
nod. "Yes, Amanda found trade issues boring also. She enjoyed peace
negotiations, however."
Chapel laughs
softly.
"There is a
reception tonight. I am allowed to bring a guest—expected to bring one,
actually. The Vendirian do not trust a man with no
partner. I realize it is an imposition."
"You wish me
to accompany you?"
"I do." He
leans in and seems to study her. "Unless you believe that Spock would
object."
"I have no
idea what he would do." She'd like to think her Spock would object. She's
relatively certain Sarek's son would object to this. "I'm
not sure this is a good idea."
"Then you are
also not sure that it is not."
She gets lost in
the logic for a moment and sees his lips tilt ever so slightly upward. "That's
true."
"I would be
in your debt."
"All
right." She smiles. "You'll prep me, of course?"
"Yes, please
come to my quarters when you have completed your shift. We will discuss the
finer points of Vendirian culture."
"Very
well."
He nods and
leaves.
"So...?"
"None of your
business, Doctor."
"I will pry it out of you."
"No. You
won't." She winks at him and he rolls his eyes.
He doesn't pry it
out of her.
##
The reception is
very dull. Sarek, however, isn't. When he isn't making small talk with the Vendirians about grains and ores she's never heard of, he's
focusing his attention on her. The Vendirians are beaming
at the two of them as if they're the latest lust-crazed vid stars rather than
an ambassador and a nurse engaged in nothing more than conversation.
"You are an
asset," Sarek says as he hands her a drink.
"I think it's
the attention you are paying me. You don't have to overdo it."
He studies her,
one eyebrow rising slightly. "Am I 'overdoing' it?"
"I mean you
don't have to pay that much attention to me if it's just for them."
"So, you do
not mind the attention?"
She laughs. Spock,
her Spock, at first, seemed like he'd lavish this kind of attention on her. And
then...something changed. Or maybe they just petered out.
Why else is she
enjoying this simple, yet highly charged, discussion with Sarek so much more?
She can't meet his
eyes. "May I ask you something?"
"Of
course." He leads her to a balcony and nods to those they pass but makes
it clear they're going out for some air. Alone. She envies him his command of
the event, of the people around him.
"It's beautiful
here."
"It is."
He waits and sips his fruit drink, watching her.
She almost loses
her nerve, turns and gazes out at the night sky, enjoying the smell of trees,
of things green and resinous.
He moves closer.
"What do you
want from me?" she whispers. She looks up at him. "Since I first met
you on New Vulcan, with Spock, I've felt..."
"What have
you felt?"
"Drawn to
you."
"And I to
you." His look is very gentle. "Yet you are another man's woman. And
if you were not his woman, you and I would likely never have met. And this man
is my son in another reality."
"It's pretty
screwed up, isn't it?"
"Yes." He
takes a long, deep breath. "What do you wish to do, Chris?"
"I don't
know." But that's a lie. She wants to kiss him. She wants to tell him that
when they return to the ship, they should go to his quarters and find out what
this thing is between them. "What do you want to do?"
"What I wish
to do does me no honor." His lips turn up enough that the tilt is
unmistakable, but it's a sad expression, one of resignation. "I believe
our hosts will let us leave now. I should prepare for tomorrow's
negotiations."
"Of
course." She feels empty. Hollow to her core and it's wrong. She knows
it's wrong, but still it's there—the wanting.
"Thank you
for accompanying me."
"Thank you
for asking me." She leans up, glad she's tall and can reach his cheek. She
feels him push into her kiss, his skin warm against
her lips. Then she pulls away.
He escorts her up
to the ship. They say goodnight at the transporter room. He doesn't seek her
out again during the negotiations.
##
Her Spock watches
as she comes into his house holding her carryall, his head tilted as if she's
some specimen. His eyes are untroubled, but also not very welcoming.
"I'm
here," she says, trying to muster up the enthusiasm that's eluded her the
entire trip over.
"I am afraid
I have another experiment underway." He looks at her with open interest, as
if waiting for her reaction.
She swallows and
looks down.
"Are you not
curious, Christine, why I do this?" He moves closer. "Why, when you
are coming expressly to see me, I make plans to be unavailable?"
"Because you're a first-class jerk?"
He looks amused. "I
have been that, at times, to you—the other you. But this is not why I do this
now." He touches her face and pushes her hair back. "I was curious,
what it would be like with you. I am no longer curious."
She pulls away
from his touch. "This isn't making me feel better."
"You do not
understand. I...indulged myself, having you. But
having you was not my plan."
"Not
your...plan?"
He pulls her in and
hugs her close, a real hug, a sweet hug. His lips rest on her forehead. "My
father—or this reality's version of him—is alone. My mother is dead. And it is
my fault. In some way, it is."
They've talked
about this. She's told him it's not his fault. But he tells her for every
action there are consequences, and his actions have brought this to pass
indirectly, even if he wasn't to blame the way Nero said.
"In my
reality, many years from now, you and Sarek will become very good friends. You
were at ease with him in a way you never were with me. And you see, it
continues even now, here, in this new reality, where I am your lover and he is
not. Not yet."
"Not
yet?"
"My mother is
gone. In my reality, she cared for you. She would not mind that you will take
her place. She was a kind woman and she loved my father deeply. She would not
want him to be alone."
She just stares at
him.
"In my
reality, my mother died of old age. And when my father met a woman. A
blonde"—he plays with her hair—"as it happens, I did not accept her,
could not forgive him for replacing my mother with her. It ruined whatever was
left between my father and me."
She wonders if he
realizes the Spock of this reality will probably feel the same way.
"Sarek has
grieved long enough. And I have ensured that my treatment of you would gain his
interest...his sympathy." He looks down. "His rivalry, if you
will."
"You set this
up." She wishes she could truly be shocked, but she isn't. Nothing Spock
does surprises her. Nothing this Spock does, anyway.
"It was only
logical, Christine. He will be happy, and I believe you will be as well. And, I
benefitted in no small way from it—I enjoyed being with you, for what it is
worth."
She slaps him. Hard.
"It's worth that." She brings her hand back to do it again, but he
stops her, capturing her wrist, his grip like iron.
"No. Christine.
No." He lets her go. "I must go. My experiment."
"Bastard."
"Orphan. In
my time. Parent-less." He touches her face gently. "You will be a
good influence on Sarek. You will soften him, make him more open to this
reality's Spock. I don't just do this for my father or you, you see. I believe
he will accept you; Nyota will see to that—for Sarek's
sake, for their relationship's sake. She is a wise woman." There is
something in his face, something that hurts her. "I do this for her,
too."
"Forgive me
if I don't cheer your altruism."
"Of
course." He inclines his head, not with any discernable sign of regret or
victory, and then leaves her alone in his home.
A home that's no
longer welcoming.
##
She leaves her
carryall at Spock's. Doesn't want to wander the compound like some vagrant. She
finds her way to Sarek's; he's not there, so she sits
on the stoop and waits.
At lunchtime, he
comes. She's hot and unhappy. He takes one look at her and actually frowns.
"Chris?"
"He wants us
together." She laughs. "He planned this."
Sarek eases her up
and draws her inside his house. He gets her water and waits for her to finish
the glass before he says, "Spock? Spock wants us together?"
She nods. She
starts to tell him what Spock said, but he holds up his hand.
"Does it
matter?" he asks.
"What?"
"Does it
matter?" He doesn't seem perturbed at what Spock's done. He's staring at
her, as if confident she will come to the right conclusion, which apparently is
that it doesn't matter.
"Yes, it
matters."
He looks
disappointed. Under the Vulcan calm there's definitely a pang of unhappiness.
"Sarek, it
matters. You were manipulated into being interested in me."
"I have
enjoyed your company since I first met you. When Spock first brought you here,
when I was still grieving. You were a welcome presence. You made being around
Spock bearable." He moves toward her. "I am lonely, Chris. I was
married for two decades to a woman I loved very much. I miss her. I despaired
of feeling any form of contentment again. I thought my life would be only my
work; I would have purpose here, and that would be enough. But...now there is
you. And I...feel again."
"Feel?"
"Yes. Feel."
He pulls her to him, slowly leans in, his lips drawing closer to hers as he
says, "It is far from logical."
"Spock would
say it's very logical."
"Spock
perhaps overthinks things."
Sarek kisses her,
and she wants to pull away and tell him this isn't right. Except it feels
right; it feels wonderful. She lets him pull her to the bedroom, helps him get
her clothes off, then takes his off him. He's so much younger than Spock, and
he shows her what a Vulcan just entering his prime can do in bed. He murmurs to
her, sweet things that make her smile. He takes no shame in the giving of love,
in the receiving of her touch.
And she realizes
Spock will never have that. He'll fight his human side forever and never
realize that what he feels, what he wants, is Vulcan, too.
She wonders if Sarek's Spock, the Spock of her time, will get past that. If
Uhura will help him.
Then she stops
wondering and gives her full attention to Sarek, to his touch and his lips and
his body. He lets her do whatever she likes and she returns the favor. They
finally lie still, and Sarek strokes her back as she rests half on his chest. She's
exhausted, but he's still ready for her. He lets her be for a bit, then he
rolls her so she's underneath him and takes her gently, as if he can tell how
sore she is.
He kisses her,
runs his fingers through her hair, and murmurs more of his Vulcan sweet
nothings.
She gives in to
him, gives up for him. And she knows that, in time, she'll tell him she loves
him.
She meets his eyes
as he moves above her, smiles at the look he gives her.
In time, she knows
he'll tell her that too.
FIN