DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters are the
property of Paramount Studios, Inc and Viacom. The
story contents are the creation and property of Djinn and are copyright (c)
2013 by Djinn. This story is Rated R.
What We Ought Not To Have
by Djinn
We desire nothing so much as what we
ought not to have. - Publius Syrus
Chapel
stepped out of the shower; her skin was raw from where she had scrubbed it
until her allocation of hot water had run out. She stood, dripping wet, looking at her
reflection in the mirror and hating herself. How could she have not known Roger was
an android? How could she, for one
moment, have thought the man sheÕd loved—the man sheÕd
idolized—could do any of the things that this android Roger had done?
Her
door chime sounded, and she ignored it.
She ran a jagged fingernail down the inside of her arm, pushing deep,
drawing beads of blood to the surface.
Roger
hadnÕt bled. Instead the burning
smell of electrical wires, of circuits and controllers, had filled the room
when heÕd caught his arm in the door.
Roger had malfunctioned, not been injured.
Her
chime sounded again, and she wrapped her robe around her and strode to the
door, ready to give whoever it was a piece of her
mind. What part of the Privacy Requested symbol sheÕd set for
her status was unclear?
As
she palmed the door open, she realized her thin robe was plastered to her
body. DidnÕt matter. It was probably Jan or Ny.
It
was not Jan or Ny. It was Spock.
He
couldnÕt goddamn read?
ÒNurse.Ó
ÒI
had my door set to privacy.Ó
ÒI
am aware of that.Ó He seemed to be
taking in the way her robe clung to her, then looked
up, meeting her eyes, his expression giving nothing away. ÒMay I come in?Ó
ÒNo.Ó
ÒNurse
Ch—Christine. I believe it would be beneficial for you
to talk.Ó
ÒTo
you? I acted like an idiot over you
when that virus hit. Why in GodÕs
name would you want to talk to me?Ó
He
gently pushed her aside and walked in.
ÒI know what it is like to lose someone. To watch them leave, to keep in contact
for a time, and then to have that contact stop. If I put myself in your place, if I imagine
finding that person only to realize they have changed beyond all reason, I can
only envisage pain.Ó
ÒYou
care if IÕm in pain? Since when?Ó
His
face changed, the softness shifting to something she thought looked a little
like guilt. ÒI am not in a position
to offer you anything other than empathy, Christine—I must make that
clear. But I do care that you are
in pain.Ó His eyes narrowed, and he
gently pulled up the arm sheÕd scratched.
Blood had soaked into the pale yellow of her robe. ÒYou are injured.Ó
ÒI
injured myself. Bit of a
difference.Ó She yanked her arm
away.
ÒDo
you know that I am a touch telepath?Ó
She
closed her eyes, could imagine what he had just read. ÒBully for you.Ó
ÒThe
grief and anger, I understand. But
shame? Why would you feel shame?Ó
ÒMy
God, you really think weÕre going to talk about this, donÕt you?Ó She moved away, then
realized her robe was probably as wet in back as the front. She was giving him one hell of a
show. ÒLet me get dressed,Ó she
said as she grabbed the first pair of sweats and an old shirt she found in her
dresser and went into the bathroom.
When
she came back out, he was sitting at her desk, looking as though he would have
waited all night for her. He met
her eyes as she sat on the bed, then asked, ÒWhy shame?Ó
ÒI
wasnÕt at my best on this...mission.
Ask the captain.Ó
ÒI
do not need to. I read his
report. He did not censure you in
any way.Ó
ÒWell,
heÕs too kind for his own good, then.Ó
She took a deep breath. ÒI
just spent twenty minutes in the shower trying to rub this day off me.Ó
ÒI
understand how the disappointment of not finding your fiancŽ after all this
time might hurt you, but it should not make you feel ashamed.Ó
ÒI
did find him, Spock. He was down
there. The captain should write
fiction: heÕs very good at creative reinterpretations.Ó
SpockÕs
eyes narrowed. ÒYou did not find
the Roger you knew. I am well aware
of how actual events differed from the official report. The captain is, as you say, kind.Ó
ÒToo
kind. I said he was too kind.Ó She looked down. ÒI let him down. But thatÕs not why IÕm ashamed. I can make up for that
someday—when he really needs me, IÕll be there.Ó
She
realized the scratch on her arm was bleeding still and went back into the
bathroom, running a small personal healer over it until the torn pieces of skin
knit together.
She
heard Spock coming up behind her.
ÒPlease
let this go.Ó
Spock
did not say anything, just leaned against the wall behind her and met her eyes
in the mirror.
ÒI
fucked Roger. He was a machine and
I had sex with him. IÕve been
trying to scrub that off me. ThatÕs why IÕm ashamed.Ó
ÒYou
did not know he was a machine when you did it, did you?Ó
ÒNo,
of course not. But I should
have. He was...different. More vigorous.Ó She looked away from his reflection. ÒAs if you want to hear the gory
details.Ó
ÒI
will listen to whatever you need to say.Ó
ÒWhy?Ó
She turned and pushed past him,
going into the bedroom, getting the bed between them as she stood on the far
side of it. ÒWhy are you here now?Ó
ÒBecause
now is when you need me.Ó
ÒI
donÕt need you. I donÕt need
anyone.Ó She began to scratch her
arm again, could feel the skin sheÕd just healed begin to tear.
He
moved toward her. ÒChristine, stop
doing that.Ó
ÒYouÕre
calling me by my name. You never
call me by my name.Ó She held up
her hand and he stopped. ÒI should
have stayed on Earth. I shouldnÕt
have given up everything to look for him—to find...what? A goddamned machine? IÕve wasted so much time and for what?Ó
He
walked back to her desk, sat and studied her. ÒI believe that had you not been on the
planet with the captain, events might have unfolded very differently. Your presence may have been a mitigating
factor, bringing out whatever humanity was left in Doctor Korby.Ó
ÒYou
think I helped? I in no way helped. I was useless.Ó She practically spit the last part at
him.
ÒHe
was your betrothed. You were
naturally torn. And perhaps felt called
to him after such a long absence.Ó
ÒQuit
being nice. ItÕs very
confusing.Ó She sank onto the bed,
curled up on it, facing him. ÒHe
was...extraordinary—the man I knew, the man I remember. To see him like this...Ó
ÒIt
was very clear from his voice that he cared for you deeply. I would suggest focusing on the man he
was, not what he became.Ó He stood,
walked over, and laid his hand gently on her hair. ÒI regret that your search ended in this
way. But closure is an often underrated thing.
The person I lost remains that way.
I have never known what happened.Ó
ÒIÕm
sorry.Ó She put her head over his
hand, was surprised when he did not pull away. ÒThank you for coming to check on me.Ó
He
nodded and walked out, leaving her to cry herself to sleep.
##
Chapel
saw Spock ahead of her in the corridor and followed him into the observation
room. ÒAre you all right?Ó
He turned to look at her. ÒIf you
were trying to exercise stealth, you failed.Ó
ÒThese
boots have heels that click—canÕt really help that. Are you all right? This whole thing with Captain Pike...?Ó
ÒIt
is not to be spoken of.Ó
ÒJust
like Roger?Ó She moved closer and
he met her eyes—he looked so tired.
ÒWhen was the last time you slept?Ó
ÒVulcans
do not need as much sl—Ó
ÒWhen
was the last time you slept?Ó
He
seemed to give up then. ÒIt has
been some time.Ó
She
smiled. ÒSuch lack of precision
means itÕs been so long that you know IÕll order you to bed as soon as I hear
the exact number of days.Ó
A
rapidly rising eyebrow was her only answer.
ÒSpock,
get some sleep. Now. If I see you anywhere in the next eight
hours, I will tell on you to McCoy.Ó
He
seemed to slump a little, the characteristic perfect posture slipping. ÒI am
tired.Ó
ÒSaving
someone you love can be hard work.Ó
She held up her hand when he started to say something. ÒI know, I know, not to be spoken
of. Or maybe it was my using ÔloveÕ
that you were about to object to.
DonÕt really care. Now,
letÕs get you to your quarters—I donÕt trust you not to get distracted
along the way.Ó
He
actually followed her. ÒYou are a
kind woman, Christine.Ó
ÒI
know. ItÕs a curse. Men never like nice girls.Ó
ÒI
do not believe that is true.Ó
ÒYou
donÕt like me. Not enough to...Ó She sighed and
waved away what she was going to say.
ÒNot
enough to what?Ó
ÒTo
pursue me.Ó
ÒI
am in no position to pursue you.Ó
They
were at his door, so she turned to him and gestured for him to palm his door
open. ÒI have no idea what that
means to you, but it sounds fairly weak to me. Either you like me or you donÕt.Ó
ÒYou
have many good qualities.Ó
ÒAnd
so does a prize heifer.Ó She
laughed. ÒNext time, if I fall for
an alien, IÕm going to go for a more promiscuous type.Ó
He
glanced at her arm, and she realized it was where she had scratched herself
months ago, after Roger. ÒI do not
believe you really mean that. You
do not strike me as promiscuous.Ó
ÒI
know. Not a sexy bone in my body.Ó
ÒThat
is not precisely what I said.Ó He
closed his eyes for a moment.
ÒGet
in there before you drop. And remember,
eight hours or IÕll sic McCoy on you.Ó
ÒUnderstood.Ó He let the door close behind him, and
she turned and tried to tell her heart not to make too much of anything heÕd
said. The man was sleep deprived
and probably saying things he didnÕt mean.
##
Chapel
saw Spock come into sickbay; he seemed surprised to see her still on the ship
instead of on the pleasure planet.
ÒDonÕt ask why IÕm not down there.Ó
ÒYou
do not find the idea of your wishes coming true appealing?Ó
ÒWhat
would I wish for? Roger back? You? The life I never had on Earth as a
scientist?Ó She shook her
head. ÒLet Len and Tonya enjoy
their courtly fantasy or Sulu be DÕArtagnan. IÕm fine here. Reality is the thing for me.Ó
He
studied her for a moment. ÒHave you
eaten?Ó
ÒIÕm
on duty—well technically IÕm off duty and covering for someone else, but
IÕm stuck here. I appreciate the
offer, though.Ó
ÒWe
can eat here in sickbay. There is a
skeleton crew aboard.Ó
ÒOh,
so itÕs safe, you mean? No one will
see you with me?Ó
ÒPerhaps
I meant no one will see you with me?Ó
His eyebrow seemed to punctuate the humor.
She
smiled. ÒEither way.Ó
ÒSo
you do not wish to eat with me?Ó
She
decided truth was the best response.
ÒIf IÕd gone down there, Spock, it would have been you that I would have
wanted. DoesnÕt that make you want
to run and hide, not bring me food?Ó
Truth was pretty damn embarrassing; she knew she was blushing madly.
ÒYou
did not go. I admire that.Ó
There
wasnÕt a trace of sarcasm in his tone.
He admired her? ÒFine. You can bring dinner.Ó
ÒWhat
would you like?Ó
ÒSurprise
me.Ó
ÒDo
you enjoy spicy food?Ó
ÒTo
some extent. Not so spicy it will
burn skin off, but moderately.Ó
He
nodded and walked out, and she wondered for a moment if she had gone down to
the pleasure planet after all and was too lost in the fantasy to realize
it.
She
went back to the inventory she had started to keep herself busy and tried to
imagine what her friends were getting up to on the planet. She hoped Jan and Ny had settled far
away from each other because she could imagine them both featuring the captain
in their little fantasies.
Or
maybe Ny wouldnÕt do that. She had
to see the man every day. Jan
wouldnÕt, not now that she was leaving the ship. Chapel felt a bit at loose ends at the
idea of Jan not being there to talk to.
She loved Ny, but she didnÕt talk about her crushes the way Jan
did—in fact, Chapel suspected that Ny also harbored a crush on Spock.
So
maybe Jan was fine wherever she was on the planet, and it was a good thing
Chapel wasnÕt down there to see who was starring in NyÕs
fantasy.
Fantasy. Like a robot fiancŽ who made love to you
better than the real thing ever had?
She should have known right then.
Roger hadnÕt been what you would call talented in bed—but sheÕd
loved him for his mind, not his ability to pleasure her.
She
heard the sickbay doors open and turned to see Spock holding a tray. ÒSo what did you get?Ó
ÒVulcan
staples.Ó He put the tray down on
the nursing desk, and pulled an extra chair over. He was going to eat with her? Not just
bring her food and skedaddle?
Strange.
She
pinched herself, just to make sure she hadnÕt fallen asleep at her desk. Nope, wide awake.
She
sat down across from him and studied the green soup. ÒIs this pea soup?Ó
ÒPlomeek. It is
often consumed at breakfast rather than dinner, but humans tend to enjoy it, so
I ordered it for you. There is
another variety, far more highly spiced, made with red plomeek
that is a favorite of mine.Ó
She
tried it. Only a little spicy,
definitely an earthy taste—almost fungal. Reminded her of some tea sheÕd once had
that came in tightly packed cakes.
ÒItÕs...different.Ó She
moved on to the plate that had some kind of stew.
ÒThat
dish is called Tal-kanshak. It is a specialty of the ShiKahr region.Ó
The
taste was savory and rich. It
reminded her of the sauce on Indian butter chicken. ÒThis is good. Really good.Ó
ÒIt
is one of my motherÕs favorites. I
thought you might enjoy it as well.Ó
They
ate in silence for a few minutes, then she said, ÒIs
the pleasure planet repellant to you?
The idea of...fantasies?Ó
ÒI
understand the human need to indulge in them, so it does not repel me, but I do
not see any need to experience it.Ó
ÒYouÕd
rather sit in sickbay with me?Ó
ÒYes.Ó He leaned back. ÒTo be frank, I have a proposal for
you. I have noticed that you are
underutilized here in sickbay.Ó
ÒYou
think IÕm not working?Ó
ÒI
think you are not working to your full potential.Ó He reached for the padd on her desk. ÒMay I?Ó
She
nodded.
He
worked on it for a moment, then handed it to her. ÒI am working on this experiment but the
segment I have highlighted is one I do not have time for. Would you be interested in participating?Ó
She
started to read and a smile began almost against her will. ÒThis is interesting.Ó
ÒYes. I would not work on it otherwise.Ó
ÒAnd
youÕd trust me to do this? I mean, your last parts will depend on me doing this right.Ó
ÒDo
you not trust yourself to do it?Ó
ÒWhat
an excellent question.Ó She put the
padd down and went back to eating.
ÒItÕs been a long time since I worked on anything like this. I sort of shoved it all aside when I
talked my way into Starfleet.Ó
ÒDo
you think it is like riding a bicycle?
I have never understood that saying, by the way.Ó
She
smiled at the slight annoyance in his tone. ÒDo you know how to ride a bicycle?Ó
ÒI
learned as an adult.Ó
ÒThatÕs
probably your problem. Gotta master bike riding as a kid when you have no idea how
far the ground is or how hard it will feel when your bones are older.Ó She reached for the padd again, read the
prospectus over. ÒYes. Yes, IÕd like to do this.Ó
ÒExcellent. I will assign you space in a lab.Ó
She
started to laugh. ÒIs this your way
of keeping me away from you in my free time? Is the lab going to be very far from
yours?Ó
ÒWould
I be sitting here, Christine, introducing you to Vulcan food if I was unduly
worried about your activities when you are not on duty?Ó
She
studied him, head back, one eye closed, like an old time surveyor. Her grandfather used to give her this
look and it always made her laugh—Spock didnÕt laugh but did look
slightly amused. ÒI guess not.Ó
ÒThen
it is settled.Ó
ÒSo
it is.Ó She took another sip of the
soup. ÒI canÕt say IÕm a huge fan
of this.Ó
ÒIt
is all right. There are many human
foods I find less than pleasant.Ó
ÒBut
the stew is going into my list of personal favorites on the synthesizer.Ó She took another bite and sighed
happily. ÒThank you for bringing me
dinner. And science.Ó She tapped the padd and smiled.
His
eyes were very gentle as he said, ÒYou are welcome.Ó
##
Chapel
saw Spock and the Kalomi woman in the corridor and
stopped. Spock met her eyes, and
she ducked into another corridor and double-timed it to the lift. She had seen enough of them on the
planet. Doing
whimsical things like swinging in trees and smelling the roses—or the
planetÕs version of them.
Not that Chapel hadnÕt been busy doing stupid things
herself. Like, for instance, Ensign Lewis. Nice boy—and he was a boy, just
out of the Academy. What the hell
had she been thinking?
He
was following her around now like a little puppy. Cute as a button but
not really her type. She
tended to chafe under too much adoration.
Probably something she should see a shrink about—her tendency to
go for emotionally repressed men—but at least she was used to not being
fussed over. Lewis was giving her
hives with his sweet nothings whispered in the mess line.
She
decided not to chance seeing him in the mess and went straight to her
quarters. She was just settling in for
a nap when her chime rang.
Holy
God, would this kid never give up?
She
got up and stomped to the door, intent on giving him a taste of evil Christine,
but it was Spock, not Lewis, who waited on the other side of her door. ÒOh. Hello.Ó
ÒYou
do not look happy to see me.Ó
ÒI
thought you were Lewis.Ó
His
expression seemed to darken. ÒAh,
yes, your paramour from the planet.Ó
He
pushed past her and she said, ÒNo, really, Spock, itÕs fine, barge right in.Ó
He
turned to her. ÒI wished to see if
you were all right.Ó
All
right from what? Too
much sex? How the hell was
he if that question was being asked?
ÒIÕm fine.Ó
ÒYou
were quite busy.Ó
ÒAnd
you know this how?Ó
ÒI
saw you with him.Ó
ÒAnd
I saw you with ÔIÕm supposedly a scientistÕ Kalomi. I find it curious that you are in a
position to offer me nothing and yet you were screwing her brains out when Lewis
and I passed you in the meadow.Ó Screwing
with great abandon, and Spock had been kissing Kalomi—Chapel
had always wondered if Vulcans kissed.
He
blushed. Deeply. ÒThat was the influence of the spores. I am not given to such displays. Intimacy is for private times.Ó
She
wanted to give him hell, but she knew he was probably right. SheÕd never have had sex with Lewis but
for those goddamned spores. ÒWhere
is the lovely Leila?Ó
ÒShe
beamed off the ship.Ó
It
was probably too much to hope that sheÕd been beamed off into space. Also unprofessional from a medical
standpoint: first, do no harm, and all that. ÒGuess youÕll miss her.Ó
ÒShe
is a woman of good character.Ó
ÒWhen
spores arenÕt involved?Ó She
studied him. ÒBut youÕre not crying
in your beer over her?Ó
ÒI
do not indulge in crying or in beer.Ó
His eyes were untroubled—he didnÕt look like heÕd lost the love of
his life.
ÒGuess
IÕm glad I ended up with Lewis instead of you. He at least wants something from me
afterwards.Ó
ÒAre
you interested in him?Ó SpockÕs eyes
narrowed and he looked...strange. Possessive, maybe?
ÒWhat
if I am? YouÕre in no position to
offer me anything, remember?Ó She
sat down on the bed.
ÒI
did not realize you had feelings for him.Ó
She
rolled her eyes. ÒI donÕt,
Spock. HeÕs a kid, for cripeÕs sake.
But if I did, you would not have a thing to say about it, got it?Ó
He
nodded, then sat down next to her. ÒI know I have no right to be, but I am
relieved.Ó
ÒI
really donÕt understand you. IÕm
sitting right here. I confessed
love to you like an idiot already, so thatÕs out of the bag. IÕm not going to say no if you ask me to
dinner.Ó
ÒI
am aware of that.Ó He took a deep
breath, then exhaled slowly. ÒI should leave you in peace.Ó
ÒUh
huh. I always feel so peaceful
after these non-conversations of ours.Ó
As
he stood and headed for the door, she remembered something she wanted to show
him. ÒHey, before you go, look at
this for me.Ó She handed him the
padd with the results of the experiment so far.
His
eyebrow rose. ÒThis is most
unexpected.Ó
ÒI
know. I ran it three times, under
three different conditions. Always
the same.Ó
He
handed the padd back and she said, ÒKeep it. ItÕs one of my spares. I back up everything. Two to three times.Ó She smiled, felt back on easy ground now
that they were talking science.
ÒI
will change my tack on the next phase of my work based on this. Excellent work.Ó
ÒThank
you, kind sir. Now, if you donÕt
mind, IÕm going to take a nap. IÕm a little worn out.Ó Now, she was blushing.
He
met her eyes; his expression was unreadable. ÒI will let you rest.Ó He stood there a moment longer, then
turned on his heel and left.
##
Chapel
carried a tray to the lab and was not surprised to find it locked—she was
relatively certain that Spock was inside.
She considered ringing for admittance, then on a whim palmed the door to
see what would happen.
It
opened.
She
stepped inside and saw Spock standing at the viewscreen,
his posture not his normal stick-straight perfection. ÒSpock? Did you program the door to let me in
when you have it on privacy lock?Ó
ÒI
did.Ó His voice was off, and she
realized the certainty that was normally in it—the almost
arrogance—was gone. ÒYou are
contributing to the experiment, are you not?Ó
ÒI
am.Ó She put the tray down and
walked over to him. ÒAre you all
right?Ó
ÒDo
you have a reason to think I would not be?Ó
ÒYou
were with Len and the captain on that planet. Len is holed up in his office drinking,
and IÕve seen the captain three times in the corridors today and he didnÕt
smile once. And you—itÕs not
like you to lock up a whole lab just so you can stare out the window.Ó
ÒIt
was a difficult mission.Ó
ÒAnd
you canÕt talk about it?Ó
ÒI
can. I am not sure I want to.Ó
ÒOkay.Ó She stared out the viewscreen,
standing closer to him than she normally would, and waited.
He
turned to her, seemed to be studying her intently. ÒI made a man ignore his heart and do
the right thing for the universe.Ó
ÒWell,
if that man was Len or the captain, I doubt you made them do anything.
They would do it. DonÕt
blame yourself.Ó
ÒA
woman died because of me.Ó
Suddenly
some of the things that Ny had said about the landing party made sense. ÒIsnÕt it more that you ensured what was
supposed to happen did happen?Ó
He
closed his eyes.
ÒYou
like your version better? Easier to
beat yourself up?Ó She took his arm,
and he didnÕt shake her off. ÒCome
on. I got you some soup. I found a recipe for red plomeek in the synthesizer—figured it was the kind
you liked.Ó
ÒI
am not hungry.Ó
ÒI
donÕt care. Eat.Ó She pushed him onto a stool and slid the
tray over to him. Once he lifted
the spoon, she said, ÒIÕll leave you alone now.Ó
ÒChristine. Stay. Talk to me of our experiment. Have you made further progress?Ó
ÒI
have. IÕll gladly distract you with
science if thatÕs what you want.Ó
ÒIt
is not what I want.Ó The look he
gave her was searing, and she found herself blushing. ÒBut it will do.Ó
ÒStop
that. YouÕll give me the wrong
idea.Ó She smiled at him. ÒAlthough it might be fun to see LenÕs
face if you actually were interested in me.Ó
ÒHe
is unkind to you?Ó
ÒHe
embraces sarcasm like itÕs a lost art form. And I donÕt think he knows quite how
mean he comes off sometimes. I can
handle him.Ó
ÒDoes
he not know we are working together?Ó
She
shook her head. ÒI told Ny. But I wasnÕt sure if you really wanted
it widely known.Ó
ÒWe
may be published at some point.
Your name will be on the paper.Ó
ÒI
know. I just—with Roger, I
was used to being discreet. He was
my professor and then my advisor.
YouÕre the First Officer. I
thought discretion would be in order for this, too. Did I do wrong?Ó
ÒNo. But you do not have to keep it a
secret.Ó
She
smiled. ÒIÕm glad to hear it. But IÕd hate to take away LenÕs fun by
letting him know you and I are actually friends.Ó
ÒFriends.Ó Again the intense look. ÒYes, we are friends.Ó
ÒQuit
talking, keep eating, and let me distract you.Ó She waited until he put the spoon back
in the soup, then proceeded to tell him all the latest
from her part of the experiment.
##
Chapel
stood in front of SpockÕs quarters holding a tray, unsure even though heÕd asked
her to make him soup, if she should ring for admittance. After having it thrown at her, nearly
wearing it—after the odd thing heÕd said just before heÕd asked for the
soup—she wasnÕt sure she should
go in.
But
he needed her. She could tell
that. SheÕd spent enough time with
him, even if suddenly he was being too formal, calling her ÒMiss ChapelÓ
instead of ÒChristine.Ó
She
sighed and rang the chime; the door slid open. His room was warmer than before. ÒSpock?Ó She would be damned if sheÕd add the
ÒMisterÓ this time. They were
friends, werenÕt they? They were
working on a project together. Just
because he was being formal didnÕt mean she had to be.
He
walked out of the bathroom, stared at her with an intensity that made her
vastly uncomfortable.
ÒYour
soup.Ó
ÒRemind
me where the ship is headed.Ó
She
narrowed her eyes. ÒVulcan.Ó
He
took a ragged breath. ÒYes. Vulcan. I can wait.Ó
She
put the soup down on his desk then retreated toward the door. ÒWhat did you mean earlier? That it would be illogical for us to
protest against our natures?Ó
He
sat, picked up the spoon, and his hand shook violently as he ate. In any other case, she would feed a
patient too weak or shaky to eat.
But she did not think trying it would be a good idea—sheÕd end up
wearing the soup again.
ÒI
was speaking in a way I should not, Christine. There is what is prescribed and then
there is that which is desired.Ó He
nodded as if the conversation was closed.
Well,
that cleared it right up. ÒIÕm
going to go now.Ó
ÒThat
would be best. I am deeply
appreciative of your kindness. And
I regret yelling at you before.Ó
ÒWhy
did you?Ó
He
held the spoon over the bowl. ÒIt
is not fitting that you feed me, and yet I eat what you brought.Ó
ÒYou
need to keep your strength up.
That, in my book, is completely fitting.Ó
He
did not look at her as he said softly, ÒThe depths of your intellect are a
constant surprise to me and yet you do not see.Ó
ÒI
see that youÕre acting really strangely.Ó
He
laughed. A soft,
puff of air, but still a laugh.
ÒAnd
it just gets stranger.Ó She found
herself inching toward the door, stopped and forced herself to walk more normally. ÒWeÕll be at Vulcan soon.Ó
ÒYes. We will.Ó
ÒEverything
will be all right then.Ó
ÒIt
is good that you think so. I will
see you when my leave is over.Ó He
sounded...sad about that, and she didnÕt think it was the seeing her part of it
that made him sad.
She
decided not to ask him about it. He
might think she wasnÕt seeing what was right in front of her, but she could see
enough to know that she didnÕt belong in his quarters right now.
Even
though she thought he wanted her there very much.
##
Chapel
was in her quarters changing out of her uniform when her comm
terminal buzzed. She saw a message
waiting for her, read it and then had to reread it.
It
was from Spock. It said: ÒWould you
come to my quarters?Ó
ÒWhen?Ó
she sent back.
ÒNow.Ó Nothing else.
She
started to laugh. He was a man of
so few words at times. She sent
back ÒKÓ and wondered if he would be amused that sheÕd managed to answer with
less letters. Or if heÕd even understand
what she meant. Did he text-comm people very often?
She
looked at the outfit she was going to put on—a simple pair of black pants
and a grey sweater—and for a moment debated picking out
something...sexier.
No. What she had picked would do. She took her hair down from the curled
bun sheÕd created, then pulled it back into a simple pony
tail. Studying herself in
the mirror, she reached for a cleansing cloth and scrubbed off her makeup, then
applied just a coat of mascara. Let
him see her when she wasnÕt trying.
Somehow that seemed important.
She
walked to his quarters, buzzed for admittance, and the door slid open.
Spock
stood near the entrance to his sleeping area, and he stared at her in a way
that completely unnerved her. ÒYou are
beautiful.Ó
She
knew she was blushing. ÒIs that
what you called me here to tell me?Ó
He
shook his head.
ÒAnd
thanks, by the way, for leaving me in the dark. You had a goddamn fiancŽe?Ó
ÒI
told you repeatedly I was in no position to pursue you.Ó
ÒYou
could have been more explicit. I
would have understood if youÕd said there was a woman in the way. When you leave it ambiguous, IÕm afraid
it translates to rejection.Ó
ÒI
did not mean for my words to be read as that.Ó He moved closer. ÒHow much do you know of what has gone
on these past days?Ó
ÒI
know you were different—emotional.
I know your hormones were out of whack. And now theyÕre not. I know you said some very strange things
to me in here—protesting against our natures and such.Ó She inched closer. ÒWere you seducing me?Ó
ÒNothing
so sophisticated. I wanted
you. I would have taken you, but
for your announcement that we were bound for Vulcan.Ó
ÒTo
your...wife, or fiancŽe, or whatever she was.Ó
ÒYes. A betrothed I am now free of.Ó
She
held her chin up in the haughtiest way she could. ÒAm I supposed to care about that?Ó
ÒI
had anticipated it might be welcome news.Ó
ÒBig
ego, Spock.Ó
His
eyes were amused. ÒI believe you
want me. I know that I want
you. It seems...elementary.Ó
ÒI
heard some things—that you needed to mate or die. Is that still the case? Is that why IÕm here?Ó She really did not want that to be the
reason she was here.
ÒI
wish to have sex with you. The
urge...it did not die during the combat, it is just no longer focused on
TÕPring. And I will not die if you
deny me your body. I called you
here because I desire you.Ó He
moved toward her, until they were standing very close. ÒI want you. Only you.Ó
ÒJust
for tonight?Ó
ÒNo,
for much longer than that.Ó He
eased her hair out of the elastic that held it back, let if fall around her
shoulders. ÒI have wanted you for
some time. But I was not free to
take what I wanted.Ó
ÒTake? What about asking first?Ó
He
almost smiled. ÒI stand corrected. You are not as accommodating as you
initially appeared.Ó
ÒYou
mean IÕm not the doormat you thought I was? Wow, great compliment.Ó She smiled to show him she didnÕt really
mind him saying that; she knew some people thought of her that way. ÒSo you think IÕll just say ÔYes, Spock,
please screw the living daylights out of meÕ?Ó
ÒThose
were not the words I had practiced before you came.Ó
ÒYou
practiced? For
me? Awwww.Ó She reached up, was charmed when he
pressed his cheek into her hand.
ÒYou remember when I told you that I loved you—when I was under
the influence of the virus?Ó
He
nodded, his cheek still pressed to her palm.
ÒI
didnÕt even know you back then. So
clearly I didnÕt love you. But
now...now I think I might.Ó
His
eyebrow went up. ÒYou think you might?Ó
She
laughed softly. ÒYou expected a
declaration of undying love?Ó
ÒTo
be honest, yes.Ó He pulled her
closer, surprising her again with how gentle he was being. ÒI am finding this somewhat frustrating. Do you wish to have sex with me?Ó
She
grinned. ÒYes, you big dope. Are you ever going to kiss me?Ó
He
looked immensely relieved as he leaned in and touched his lips down on hers. He opened his mouth and moaned when she
did the same. She pressed herself
against him, realized that he really
wanted her.
She
thought sheÕd worn something simple, but he seemed to be having difficulty
removing her clothing. She finally
pushed him away and began to peel off his uniform, but he stopped her.
ÒNo. You first. I want to see you.Ó
ÒNever
let it be said I donÕt grant wishes.Ó
She grinned as she slowly eased her shirt off, as she took her pants off
even more slowly. She tried not to
feel self conscious as he stared at her as she stood in her bra and panties.
ÒThe
rest. Take it off.Ó
She
realized she was getting a little tired of the he-man approach. ÒNo. You next. Shirt and pants, mister, and make it
snappy.Ó
The
man could double-time the hell out of uniform removal,
he even pulled off his underwear in the process. As he stood in front of her, she smiled
and said, ÒSo handsome.Ó
ÒI
am marginally handsome on my planet.
Some consider me too human looking.Ó
ÒWell,
to be honest, I was talking about him.Ó
She reached down and illustrated what part of him she meant—he
nearly collapsed against her as she squeezed firmly. ÒBut for what itÕs worth, I think the
rest of you looks great, too.Ó
ÒI
am...gratified...my physical appearance...is not repellant.Ó He finally pulled her hand away and
scooped her up, carrying her to the bed, and easing her onto it.
ÒDo
you want this off?Ó she asked, rubbing her fingers over her bra. ÒOr only out of the way?Ó She slowly pulled one of the cups down
so it was both exposing and supporting her breast.
ÒThat
is most acceptable.Ó He moved onto
the bed, took care of the other cup, and began to rush to second base.
She
might have complained about the lack of kisses before he found her breasts if
what he was doing hadnÕt felt so damn good. Every time he found a place that made
her shiver, he lingered, and she realized that touch telepathy was useful for
more than just assessing mood.
She
reached down for him, but he pushed her hand away and murmured, ÒLie
still. Enjoy this.Ó
She
decided to lie still—or as still as she could—and enjoy it. It was not difficult. When he slid his hand down her body and
under her panties, she was lost.
His
eyes were gleaming in a way sheÕd never seen when she could finally focus on
him. And somehow heÕd gotten her
panties off her while sheÕd been recovering. Efficient to the core.
ÒSorry. I was pretty noisy right then.Ó
ÒI
did not mind.Ó He kissed her
tenderly and stroked her cheek, then pressed his fingers into her skin. ÒDo you know what a mind meld is?Ó
She
nodded. ÒYou wish to read my mind?Ó
ÒThe
meld can be used to gather information.
It can also be used to share sensation and emotion—emotion that I may
not share sufficiently in other ways.Ó
She
smiled and reached up, pushing his fingers in deeper. ÒIÕm game.Ó
She
felt a fuzziness for a moment, the way she had as a
child when sheÕd just gotten off a ride at the amusement park. Then she felt SpockÕs essence and heard
his voice in her head saying her name.
She
felt very safe. Very...treasured. ÒMmmmm.Ó The sound came out both helpless and
happy.
ÒYou
are all that I want,Ó he said, but she wasnÕt sure if heÕd spoken it or thought
it. And as he moved over her and
into her, it didnÕt matter.
Sensation battered her, and his tenderness—tenderness that turned
into passion—nearly overwhelmed her.
He
eased up with his fingers and kissed her sweetly as he moved inside her. His need for her was intense and she
wanted to help him, moved up to meet him as he took her, holding him tightly as
he found his release. He let go of
her face, and the meld lingered, dying slowly away as he wrapped his arms
around her and cuddled her against him.
ÒTÕPring
is an idiot, Spock. To leave this?
Very stupid.Ó She nuzzled
his neck.
ÒShe
had another she preferred.Ó
ÒIÕm
sorry.Ó
ÒI
am not sorry. I have you now.Ó
She
laughed as she pulled him to her for another kiss. A long, very
satisfying kiss. ÒOh, so you
think you have me, do you?Ó
He
slipped his hand down her belly, lower and lower and—holy shit. ÒAm I mistaken, Christine?Ó
She
tried to say, ÒI guess not,Ó but the words came out mumbled as he moved his
fingers. Finally, she just shook
her head, and he kissed her cheek and said, ÒAs I thought,Ó just before making
her moan and cry out again.
ÒI
really like you,Ó she said once she could form words again. ÒI donÕt mean love. I mean like. You make me smile. And you talk to me about science. And I feel good when IÕm with you.Ó She pulled him on top of her again.
He
smoothed back her hair as he moved, more gently this time. ÒI am extraordinarily fond of you as
well. I wish to spend time with you
outside of this bedroom.Ó
ÒGood.Ó
She wrapped her legs around him and
rode out his passion. ÒAlthough for
the record, I really like being in this bedroom.Ó
His
lips ticked up into a partial smile.
ÒI do, as well.Ó He rolled
off of her, then pulled her back into his arms. ÒI like it very much.ÓÕ
FIN