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)
2017 by Djinn. This story is Rated R.
Just Worn Paper Dolls
By
Djinn
"I don't
know how we got this far. Don't know when we became who we are. The war goes on
behind these walls. You and me are just worn paper dolls."
- "Paper Dolls," Rob Thomas
Part 1
The
ship lurched, and Chapel backed up against the nearest bulkhead and closed her
eyes. This wasn't the Enterprise and
Sulu wasn't at the helm getting them the hell out of trouble. If he had been,
she'd have felt far less afraid.
Why
the hell had she left the Enterprise?
So Len and Spock and Kirk had come back? So she'd been demoted? It was the
flagship. It was...safe. Or safer, anyway.
And
her friends were on it. People she trusted. Although her best friend wasn't
even returning her comms; she needed to find out from
Uhura if Rand was away at training or was just ignoring her on general
principle.
And
why did she have to ask one friend what the other was doing?
It
didn't help that she was having a hard time finding her place on this
ship—being angry and pissy much of the time
probably wasn't making her shipmates anxious to be her new best buds.
"Lieutenant?"
A familiar voice, and she whirled and saw Sarek coming toward her and felt a
rush of relief. He was smart and capable and not mad at her—or someone
she was running away from. Not a friend, but the closest thing she had to it on
this shithole of a ship. "Nurse Chapel, isn't it? We met on the Enterprise—are you all
right?"
"I'm
fine. Also a doctor now." She realized he was bleeding. "Ambassador,
you're hurt."
"I
merely stumbled at the last hit." He reached up and his hand came away
green, which seemed to surprise him.
"Come
with me." She turned, but the way back to sickbay was blocked.
"Computer, status of Deck Seven?"
"Potential
breach at junction seven delta and seven zeta. Containment measures in
place."
Great.
They were sitting in seven epsilon if she had the layout down right. Nowhere to
go, but she asked anyway, "Barring the access tubes, can we get to sickbay
from here?"
"Negative."
"Come
on," she said, not liking how Sarek was almost swaying on his feet.
"There should be an emergency station up here somewhere." Damn her
new captain for getting them into a firefight before she'd memorized the layout
of this ship. Damn this ship for not being laid out the way she expected.
She
took Sarek's arm, worrying that it was the height of discourtesy, but he didn't
say anything—proof, she thought, that he'd taken a harder hit than he was
letting on. She hustled them down the corridor until she saw the familiar
symbol for an emergency medical kit.
Once
there, she hit the intercom. "Chapel to sickbay."
"Elstrom here, ma'am. Where are you?" Her deputy
sounded frazzled.
"Cut
off for now. You okay there?"
"Yes,
ma'am."
"I'll
be back as soon as the way is clear."
"Roger
that." The connection went dead. She hoped it was just Elstrom's
way of ending a call and not some new problem making the comms
go dead before he could. She turned to Sarek, "It's not much, but it's all
we've got."
"Understood."
He waited as if there was no need for any fuss while she unstowed
a folding seat from the wall, but he sat quickly and without argument, clearly
feeling worse than his expression was letting on.
She
checked through the equipment and meds, not liking what she was seeing. She
would never have put up with emergency kits looking like this on the Enterprise. It was becoming more and
more apparent what a cluster fuck of a situation she'd inherited from the
outgoing CMO of the Danube.
"It's
been a long time, Ambassador." She smiled at him, trying to make a show of
things being okay even though he'd probably read they weren't from her brief
touch. "Let me figure out where this bleeding is coming from."
She
worked for a few minutes, then he said softly, "I had heard you were on
the Enterprise with my son."
"Where'd
you hear that?" She backed away to see his face. "And why would you
care?"
He
gave her nothing back other than a strange little shrug.
She
went back to scanning him. He'd hit hard, that was apparent. But like many head
wounds, it looked worse than it was. She grabbed the field regenerator and got
to work on repairing the wound, glad she didn't need more in the way of meds or
supplies since there wasn't much to work with. These little regen
units did basic repairs only, but she thought it would be enough until they
could get to sickbay. "Youre right: I was on the ship. I transferred off.
CMO here seemed preferable to 'same old, same old' there."
Jesus,
why was she being so honest with him? Like he cared in the first place. And he
might tell Spock, who might tell Len and Kirk—Starfleet was a small place
and burning bridges wasn't her style normally. But she wasn't at her best.
Truth to tell, she'd been floundering since Kirk demoted her. She'd put so much
energy into becoming an MD and then learning what it took to be CMO on the
flagship, that the let-down afterwards had left her reeling emotionally and,
given the idiot move she'd made coming to this ship, professionally. "I'm sorry.
That came out wrong."
"I
believe it came out as exactly what it was: the truth." He moved his head
to the side and pointed to a spot. "This is quite painful here."
"Thanks."
She scanned the area to make sure she wasn't missing anything, and then went
back to work. The ship lurched again and she felt his hand on her arm,
steadying her. For a moment, they stayed like that, then he let go of her.
"You
must be getting a mind-ful when you read me. You are
reading me, right? I mean not because you're nosy but because you're
Vulcan."
"I
am. You are under stress and as you are human, negative emotions are to be
expected. I have no concerns, however, as to your proficiency at caring for
me."
"Good
to know." She touched his scalp gently. "Better?"
"Yes."
"Good."
She pulled a cleansing pad out and began to wipe the blood from his skin. Once
she was finished, she checked for more bleeding, but the area seemed healed.
She scanned again, finding an area with some deep tissue damage that she'd have
to work on once they got to sickbay.
As
she worked, she thought about how Spock had acted when he showed up on the
ship—and when she'd left. Two polar extremes—neither, she thought,
the real Spock.
"You
must have been disappointed when Spock left that place—Gol, wasn't it?" she asked softly.
He
didn't answer, and she could feel herself blushing. This was none of her
business. Even if Spock had sort of made it her business by hitting on her in
the most awkward way possible after V'ger had been
dealt with.
Hitting
on her after she'd witnessed that scene in sickbay between him and the captain,
when she realized she'd always come second to Kirk no matter what Spock thought
he wanted after the emotional enema that was V'ger.
One of the reasons she'd left to go to med school in the first place was when
she'd realized Spock could and did love—just not her.
"I'm
sorry, Ambassador. What Spock did or didn't do is none of my business."
He
was silent for so long, she thought he agreed with her. But then he said,
"I was never in favor of his choice. Gol is for
those who seek mastery of existing emotional control. Not for those who merely
want an escape from inconvenient emotions."
"I'm
not sure I see the difference."
For
a moment, she saw something that seemed to be impatience in his face. Then it
was gone.
"It
is of no importance, Doctor Chapel. I should not have spoken so. My
son—logic at times escapes me."
"Well,
that makes two of us." She laughed softly. "I may have been
interested in him once upon a time." A lie, of sorts. "May have
been" implied a cessation of want and she'd never had the chance to get
him out of her system. Maybe she should have said yes to him. Maybe the sex
would have been bad and she could have moved on?
But
maybe it would have been good? Although she didn't think she'd ever feel sure
of him, given how he clearly felt about Kirk. She'd been with a man she
couldn't be sure of—Roger had loved her, but he'd never loved only her.
It had been the price of being with him, of being his chosen one. His partner
in work and life.
But
not always in bed.
"Spock
was, I think, pleased that you were on the ship." Sarek actually seemed to
be fishing.
"He
told you that?"
"He
told his mother. I may have overheard." He studied her, his look reminding
her of how Roger used to assess her when she was trying to hide something from
him. "Yet, you left. Is it not illogical to leave what has been long
desired?" At her look, his lip almost ticked up. "His mother may have
told me you were not unmoved by him."
"Not
unmoved. Such a nice way to say that I made a fool of myself over him."
She sighed and leaned against the corridor. "He wasn't himself after the
meld with V'ger. I had no faith his interest would
last. But it wasn't just him I left.
I didn't want to recreate the last five-year mission, you know? I worked
hard to become a doctor—to become qualified for CMO."
He
nodded. "A double load, then, academically. Gaining your MD and learning
the administrative policies and duties of being the chief medical officer."
She
smiled. "And, like an idiot, I was doing an extra project in biochem—wanted to get it published and shut up the
people who thought I slept my way to that assignment." At his look of
surprise, she said, "I didn't. Decker trusted me. I don't know why; he
just did. And I wanted that again. Here. As the boss.
Color me ambitious, I guess."
"That
is not a bad thing." He started to stand. "You should sit."
She
pushed him down. "Belay that, Ambassador. You're the patient."
"A
healed patient. Thank you for that. And you do not have to be so formal. Sarek
will do."
She
smiled. "And I'm Christine. And for the record, there's still work to do
once we can get to sickbay so don't declare yourself healed just yet." She
slid down the wall and sat on the floor across from him, knees pulled
up—thank God for these new uniforms. The old mini-dresses would never
have allowed her to sit like this and not flash someone. "What are you
doing on the Danube?"
"Going
home."
She
smiled "Another successful mission?"
"No.
This trip is indicative of the success I've had."
"Are
they shooting at us because of you?"
"Quite
possibly." He closed his eyes and leaned back again.
"That
was a joke, right?"
He
nodded.
"Did
it hurt when you did that? Shaking your head, I mean, not the joke." She
grinned.
"Ever
the doctor." His lips ticked up again ever so slightly. "And no, it
did not."
"Good.
The scanner tells me a lot, but there's nothing like patient feedback."
She sighed. "Who do you think is shooting at us?"
"I
have no idea. This part of space is supposed to be quiet."
"Supposed
to be. Three useless words." She laughed, but the sound came out a little
bitter. So many things that weren't as she'd planned. Supposed to be Decker's
CMO. Supposed to be a scientist. Supposed to be Roger's wife. Supposed to be
fucking happy and accomplished.
She
heard a loud beep over the intercom and smiled as she pushed herself up.
"All clear, computer?"
"Affirmative."
"Sickbay
awaits, Sarek. I'm not going to certify you as fit for duty until I've used a
scanner I've calibrated on you."
She made a face as she indicated the emergency station. "This did its job.
But humor me, all right? I couldn't face Spock if I let anything happen to
you."
"I
doubt it would concern him overmuch. He and I are somewhat at odds these
days."
"Are
you ever not?" She grinned at his expression. "Seriously, Sarek. You
two put the dys in dysfunctional."
"I
make overtures."
"I'm
not criticizing. Just stating a fact." And she had no room to judge given
the nature of things with Jan.
"An
observation, to be precise. And an accurate one."
She
urged him out of the seat and re-stowed it. "Come on. I don't want to get
stuck in here again in case our esteemed Captain Talbot finds another way to
screw up our day."
He
let out a puff of air she thought was his equivalent to a laugh.
"Don't
like him either, huh?" she asked with a mean grin.
He
let an eyebrow be her answer. "Are you claustrophobic? Is that why you
eliminated access tubes as a means of travel?"
"No,
and no. You were a little too wobbly to be climbing ladders." She grinned
up at him and could tell he was slightly outraged that she'd lay the blame on
him. "Well, maybe just an eensy bit
claustrophobic. But you were wobbly."
His
lips ticked up again and it made her smile.
She
amused Sarek a hell of a lot more than she ever had his son.
##
Dead
on her feet, Chapel stumbled into the mess, which was empty at this hour. Empty
except for a certain Vulcan Ambassador. She walked over once she'd gotten some
food and smiled at him. "Twice in one month? Did you do something to piss
Starfleet off or do you prefer piece-of-crap ships?"
Len
had tried to tell her not to take this posting; she'd give him credit for that.
She'd been too busy following her dreams to realize they were leading her to a
shithole of a billet.
Sarek
lifted an eyebrow and said, "It is headed where I need to go." He
pushed food around on a plate and looked to her eyes frankly...exhausted.
He
had staff with him; she'd seen them with him earlier. But she got the feeling,
despite the lack of company, that alone was not his preferred state.
"May
I?" She nodded to a chair next to him.
"Please.
I would welcome the company."
She
studied him, and he seemed to try to pull some measure of serenity around him,
but still all she saw was how tired he looked. "Is there anything I can do
to help?"
He
shook his head and pushed food around some more, finally actually eating some
of it.
"Where's
your staff?"
Instead
of answering, he waved in the general direction of the visitor's quarters. It
was astoundingly imprecise.
"You
used to travel with your wife."
"Yes.
I used to." He did not meet her eyes. "And occasionally still
do."
"I
don't understand. Is this a dangerous mission? Did it have to be
unaccompanied?" Where the hell were they sending him that was too
dangerous for a spouse and in the direction they were headed? Even given the
fact that her captain had the ability to fuck up just about any
meet-and-greet—she was unsure why he was still captain, although Elstrom told her he'd heard through his Command cronies
that reassignment for their C.O. was imminent.
Even
old ships deserved better treatment than the Danube was getting under their clueless leader. A clueless leader
who was rarely seen in sickbay and certainly never sought her out for any kind
of bonding, the way you'd expect a captain to do with the officer most likely
to relieve him of duty. Not that she wanted to spend quality time with him, but
it rankled the part of her that wanted to be valued—significant.
She'd
gotten spoiled on the Enterprise, had
seen a side of the fleet during her first posting that she assumed was the
norm. And Kirk and Len's relationship was textbook. She might be mad as hell at
her old captain for demoting her—and making Will tell her—but she
understood why he did it.
Sarek
pushed his plate away. "It is not dangerous. Amanda is...ill." He
didn't meet her eyes.
"Ill?"
She didn't want to ask any more than that. She was already tromping into his
personal territory again.
Sarek
took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, then said softly, "Cadmius Syndrome."
"Oh."
She tried to hide the dismay she felt.
"I
see from your expression that you know the disease. You are familiar with the
prognosis?"
"I
knew someone who had it." The father of a friend from school—he'd
gone from vibrant to vegetative, but so very slowly, like the sand draining
from an hourglass, leaving him and his family years to watch his health degrade
before he became bedridden. And even then he'd lingered, in a half-comatose
state, his eyes haunting her as she'd sat with her friend and told him about
school because the doctors said he could possibly still hear them.
There'd
be no light behind those eyes, that's what she remembered most—and then
there would be, suddenly, a spark. A moment where he was back and he looked at
her friend with so much love and pain it nearly broke her heart. "I'm so
sorry, Sarek."
He
nodded.
"Does
Spock know?"
"No.
She does not want anyone to know until it is impossible to hide. I should not
have told you."
"I
won't say anything. Not to anyone." She reached over and touched his hand,
then immediately yanked it back. "I apologize. Sometimes my need to give
comfort runs over my better judgment."
"I
could tell your intentions were sincere. You are kind." He closed his eyes
and took a deep breath. "She has periods where she is entirely normal. It
makes the other times more difficult. I never know which wife I will find at
any given moment. And I cannot help her when she is sick."
"The
meld...?" Again, such personal territory but something about him seemed so
lonely—and so tense. Like he'd explode if he didn't talk to someone about
this.
"The
meld is of limited utility. It can be taxing for a partner who is ill,
especially one with inadequate psi abilities to fully control their
participation in the joining."
"Like
a human?"
"Yes.
Or many other species. Even some Vulcans, if they are atypical."
She
sat quietly and ate some of her food, willing to let him dictate where the
conversation went next, whether he kept it on Amanda or moved on to less
personal things.
"I
am used to her travelling with me. I...miss her."
"I'm
sorry. I've heard that mated pairs are...bonded. Mind and spirit or some such
thing." She smiled to let him know she realized much of what she'd heard
might just be so much crap. "If you can feel her, can't you send relief in
the form of...a caring presence."
"The
bond exists, but it does not work like that. It is more an...energy linking us
one to the other. The closer I am to her physically, the more I feel her
presence. Except when she is having a flare. Then our connection...wanes. The
medicine she takes makes her sleep very deeply and I can barely detect
her." He shook his head. "I am tired. Too tired to exercise proper
discretion. I should not be discussing this with you."
"Who
else do you have to talk to about this? You send your staff away because you
don't want them to know, right?" At his look of surprise, she smiled
gently at him. "I don't need to be talented psychically to figure out your
motivations."
He
conceded her point with a nod.
"I'm
here, Sarek. If you need to talk."
He
slid out of the booth and gathered his tray. "I appreciate that,
Christine. I think for now, however, I will leave you to eat in peace. Thank
you for the company."
She
nodded but thought that despite his nice words, she was probably running him
off. Maybe he was afraid she was going to push for more unpleasant—and
highly personal—truths.
Jesus,
would she ever learn to keep her mouth shut and dial back her compulsion to
take care of people? He didn't need her adding to the burdens of his day.
##
Chapel
sat with Ny and Chekov in the bar of Starbase Seven, enjoying the opportunity
to take advantage of their ships' similar area of operations and hang out like
old times.
"No
Jan?" Chapel had asked as they'd all hugged each other hello.
"She
transferred off, Christine." Ny looked at her like she should have known.
"She
what?"
"A
week after you left."
Chapel
wasn't sure what to say, knew her mouth was hanging open, and tried to recover.
"It's
not the same without you, Christine." Pavel seemed to recognize her
discomfort; his eyes were very gentle, but then they turned devilish. "I
enjoyed seeing if you would ever make any progress with Mister Spock." He
ducked as she swatted at him from across the booth. "In all seriousness,
we do miss you."
"We
do." Ny gave her the weird grin she'd been giving her all morning. It was
mostly real, but she was hiding something.
"What
doesn't she want to tell me, Pav?"
"That
she is seeing Mister Spock." This time he didn't duck in time and Ny's hit landed solidly. "Assault of a fellow officer
is a court-martial offense, Nyota. Please, I give up."
"Yeah,
now that the cat's out of the bag." Ny gave Chapel the most sheepish look
she'd ever sported in their many years of friendship. "Are you going to
kill me?"
"Why
would I kill you? I left. And I left after..." She knew Ny would know what
she meant—she didn't want Pavel knowing Spock had made overtures.
Unfortunately,
he ran further with the idea than that. "Did you sleep with him? Was it
bad? Please tell me it was bad and that every woman's crush on him is
wasted."
Chapel
said, "I didn't sleep with him" at the same time Ny said, "It
isn't bad." They both laughed while Pavel rolled his eyes.
"Sorry,
Pav. Tall, dark, handsome and unattainable wins the
day every time." She studied Ny, seeing the signs of happiness she should
have recognized—and normally she would have because Ny would have been
telling her everything. "You can talk to me about him. It's okay."
"I
wasn't sure. I know Jan would kill me if it was the captain."
"I'm
not Jan. And no she wouldn't." Although how the hell did she know what Jan
would do?
"Oh,
she would. She told me she would." Ny grinned, but Chapel felt a
sting—she'd talked to Jan about this but not her? "I thought she was
off the ship?"
"I'm
a comms officer, Chapel. I can talk to whoever I
want." Ny wore the smug "I work on the bridge and you don't"
look that had pissed off any number of their fellow junior officers back in the
day.
"Where
is she?"
"On
Earth at Officer Candidate School. Finally." Chapel had been there when Ny
had lectured Jan on following through. Now she acted as if going to OCS was her
idea, not Jan's.
The
music changed, and Ny pulled Pavel off his stool. "I love this song. Spock
won't dance. Come on. Christine, you come, too." She glanced at Chapel,
but it looked like she wanted to get away from her and the uncomfortable
conversation about Jan.
Chapel
stood but then saw Sarek sitting by himself in the waiting lounge. He suddenly
looked a lot easier to talk to than her friends. "You dance. I'll be right
back."
"Suit
yourself." She and Pavel headed for the dance floor where others were
blowing off "Been on a ship for way too long" steam.
Chapel
headed over to Sarek. "Hello there."
He
looked up and his expression lightened. "I saw you with your friends. I
did not want to intrude."
She
sat. "They're otherwise occupied tripping the light fantastic." And
keeping who knew what other secrets from her. Would there be more revelations?
God, had she really thought this would be fun?
"Are
you all right, Christine?"
"Just
dandy." It was what Len said when he wanted you to leave him the hell
alone. She hated that she'd picked that up from him. "Traveling with us
again?"
He
nodded.
Tucking
her feet under her, she leaned in. "It's funny how you're never on the Enterprise. Avoiding Spock?" It
would explain his predilection for choosing her piece-of-shit ship over the
luxury of a newly refitted flagship.
"I
would never admit that."
"I
think you just did. The other answer is a simple 'no.'"
"Your
ability to be logical is, at times, inconvenient." He took a deep breath
and he looked...tired.
"Are
you all right?"
"Amanda
has been in a great deal of pain. It comes and go—we've been told that
will be the case for years probably. But I cannot help her and as I have told
you, the medicines make her...distant."
"Yeah,
they can do that. It's often the price of pain relief."
"I
mean beyond the normal physical reactions to them. It makes her presence in the
bond much weaker even when she is right next to me. I am accustomed to knowing
she is there. I...rely on it."
"Im
sorry." She saw that Ny and Pavel were back at their stools, looking her
way. She'd much rather stay with Sarek than go back to them, but she didn't
want to lose the few friends she actually did still have. "I've gotta go, but we can talk more at dinner, if you
want?"
"I
do not have the energy for a crowded mess."
"Then
we'll eat in your quarters or mine." She smiled gently and touched his
hand for the briefest of moments so he could feel how much she worried about
him. She thought it might be welcome—even if it was also entirely
intrusive—since he was having trouble sensing the woman he was bonded to.
"You
do not have to take care of me, Christine."
"I
know that. But you're my friend, aren't you?"
He
looked over at her, his eyes almost sad. "I am."
They
held the gaze for a long time until he finally nodded and said, "I would
appreciate the chance to talk."
"Then
I'll see you later. " She stood and nearly walked into a member of his
staff. "Excuse me."
"Indeed,"
was the woman's answer as she pushed past her. "Ambassador, you asked to
see the balance of payments report when it came in."
"Yes,
T'Keya. Thank you." He held his hand out for the
padd she carried.
Chapel
left them to work and walked back to the others.
"I
never know what to say around him." Ny pretend-shuddered. "He's
so...unforgiving."
"I
don't think that's the side Christine sees." Pavel was smirking.
"Pavel,
shut up." Chapel rolled her eyes.
"What?
You have shown you like Vulcans." His smirk grew bigger.
Until
Ny whapped him for Chapel. "Pavel, shut up."
##
Chapel
was enjoying a rare free day in San Francisco while the ship was in for
refits—and for a new captain, who she would finally get to meet tomorrow
with the rest of the senior staff. She was about to go into her favorite bakery
when she saw Amanda coming down the street.
Amanda
walked as she always did, with a grace probably learned over the years on
Vulcan wearing robes, even though she was dressed like any other human
civilian. She smiled at Chapel as she got closer.
"Christine.
I'm so glad to see you. Sarek has told me you've been keeping him company when
he has to ride on the Danube. Let me
buy you a croissant and we can catch up." She gestured toward the bakery.
"You were going in there, right?"
"I
was." Chapel worked very hard to keep any sign of "I know you're
sick" from her face. When she was a nurse, she'd grown used to not
reacting to crewmen who'd been to see her for some embarrassing ailment, so she
considered herself quite good at this. "I'd love the company."
They
got settled and ordered, and Amanda smiled as she seemed to study her.
"You look different."
"I'm
older."
"Pfff. Aren't we all?"
"I'm
in charge."
"That's
it. What is it they call it in the fleet? Command presence?"
Chapel
smiled because that was exactly what they called it, and she didn't honestly
think she had it yet, but she wasn't going to argue. She certainly had more of
it than she would have second-stringing it under Len. "Thank you."
"You're
very welcome, my dear. Although I do have to say that I think Spock was
disappointed you left the Enterprise."
Chapel
did her best imitation of a Vulcan, only both eyebrows insisted on going up.
"I doubt that lasted long since he's with Nyota now—you don't have
to protect me. I know and I'm fine with it." She started to laugh.
"And does he always confide in you about his, um, feelings?"
"Oh,
God, no. It was that V'ger meld making him into a
Chatty Cathy. And it's long since worn off. I only know he's involved with
Nyota because Sarek ran into them together."
"That
must have been interesting." Chapel didn't mention Ny's
uneasiness around Sarek. It seemed like gossiping and she hated that. People
had gossiped about Roger and her, even before they were together. It made it
easier to just go for what she wanted: everyone thought she was anyway.
"Well,
my son missed out, Christine. I want you to know I've always been rooting for
you."
She
laughed. "Kiss of death. When does he ever do what's expected?"
"Well,
that's certainly been the case with what Sarek wanted him to do." Her
smile grew mischievous. "But I may have talked about Starfleet when he was
little. In rather glowing terms." She laughed gently, an "Imagine
that?" look on her face and Christine laughed with her.
But
then her expression changed, growing more somber, and she leaned in. "I
really do appreciate you taking time for Sarek. I can't—don't travel with
him anymore." She didn't quite meet Chapel's eyes. "A personal
issue."
"It's
no bother. But I think he misses you. I'm a poor stand-in."
"You
think so? He seemed quite content the last time he was on the Danube." There was something off in
Amanda's voice, something wistful and hurt, and Chapel wanted more than
anything to just tell her she knew she was sick.
But
she'd promised Sarek she wouldn't. And making herself feel less awkward was not
worth the price of Amanda knowing her secret had not stayed with her husband.
So
she sat in a weird silence, feeling like that girl again who'd fallen for her
professor and had to hide it.
Finally
Amanda asked, "How long will you be you on Earth?"
"We
leave the day after tomorrow."
"You
should come to the embassy tomorrow night, then. A trio from Irixa is playing. Quite fantastic. You wouldn't believe how
many of my friends have commed, trying to finagle an
invite. " Amanda shifted in her seat as if she was suddenly uncomfortable,
then she closed her eyes.
"Are
you all right?" Anyone would ask at this point—Chapel didn't have to
have any inside knowledge, and she was a doctor, for cripe's
sake. "Amanda?"
"A
back spasm. Nothing to worry about."
She
remembered how her friend's dad would get sudden pains when the disease
started, turning a normal outing into a quick trip back home.
Amanda
took a sip of her coffee and smiled. "I'm serious. It's nothing. Now, tell
me you'll come to the embassy tomorrow? Wouldn't you like a chance to get
gussied up in something other than a dress uniform? A shame Spock won't be
there. See what he's missing." She winked and Chapel laughed, charmed by
the woman's impish humor.
But
then she saw Amanda wince again, and her amusement died. "You're clearly
in pain. Maybe I can help?"
"I
have help." Amanda turned her wrist over and Chapel saw that she was
wearing a pain patch. She looked like she was about to make light again of what
was going on, but then her expression changed to defeated. "Do you know
what Cadmius Syndrome is?"
Chapel
nearly sighed in relief: they were going to talk about it. "I do. Is that
what this is?"
For
a second, Amanda looked like she might say it wasn't, that she'd only asked for
information's sake. But then she slumped a little and nodded.
"Oh.
I'm sorry." She reached over and took her hand.
"So,
you see, there's nothing you can do to help. Except come to the embassy
tomorrow and spend time with us. I don't want anyone to talk about you and
Sarek spending time behind my back. This will show I approve."
Was
someone talking about them? Chapel could feel herself reddening. "There's
nothing to approve of. We're friends. And just new ones. Not really that
close."
"Sweetheart,
I know. But there are always people who get pleasure in causing trouble. I
simply have no time for that. Especially not when I will be less and less able
to accompany my husband. It's ironic, but he's always had an easier time
talking to me, a human woman, than the Vulcans that surround him. I'm sure the
same is true of his ease with you. So, be that ear for him. It's what I want."
"Does
he know there's gossip?"
"It's
hard to keep a secret from a Vulcan you're bonded to when you're
angry—and I was angry when I got wind of this." Her expression
changed. "Oh, not at you, darling. I'm mad at people who can't resist
sticking their nose in where it doesn't belong."
"Maybe
I shouldn't come. I don't want to make this worse."
"Oh,
shush. The best way to meet anything is head on." She smiled, a game
smile, the smile of a human woman who'd had to face down probably every Vulcan
she met when she and Sarek first started. "I'll tell Sarek I told you I
was ill. It will be good for him to be able to talk about it to you." She
finished her coffee quickly and pushed the barely touched croissant away.
"I'm afraid I have to go. I have stronger medicine at home."
She
motioned for the server, but Chapel murmured, "Amanda, I've got
this."
"Thank
you, dearest. Now, I'll see you tomorrow, yes? Nine o'clock." She stood
and waved Chapel back into her chair when she started to get up, then pulled
out a small personal communicator and hit a combo of keys. "A flitter is
on its way. Enjoy the rest of the day." She walked off as if she hadn't a
care in the world, as if each step wasn't painful.
Chapel
felt a rush of admiration for her as well as a huge sense of relief that she
didn't have to feign ignorance anymore.
But
if she found out who'd decided she and Sarek were doing anything improper, she
was going to rip them a new one.
##
The
Irixan trio was amazing. Chapel smiled as she closed
her eyes and let the music almost carry her away. It reminded her of a trip to
Buenos Aires she and Roger had taken just before he'd left Earth. They'd eaten
too much and had too much wine and danced the tango, even though neither of them
knew how, but they didn't care.
She
didn't think she'd ever feel that way again. Not because Roger had ruined her
for anyone else, but because she'd changed too much looking for him. The girl
who could throw herself into that relationship, who would uproot everything to
go look for her man, was gone.
Also,
that was their last trip before she found out he was sleeping with other women
and was unapologetic about the fact. It was hard to try to replicate that level
of closeness when she knew she was sharing the man she loved with whoever he
fancied at the moment—even if he tired of them quickly. Even if he didn't
tire of her.
It
made her sad, at least while the music played, and she could remember how it
felt to be young and in love—and betrayed but unwilling to leave. She'd
made a trade. Fidelity could go as long as she benefitted. His wife, his
collaborator and co-author, and someday, she had hoped, the mother of his
children.
Feeling
emotional, afraid she was about to cry, she eased away from the others, her
silk dress swishing pleasingly. She'd bought it on Risa
and never had a chance to wear it since. It was modest but flattering, managing
to be forgiving of problem areas but still enhancing the bits that should be
highlighted. Amanda had been right: it felt good to get dressed up.
She
walked into a courtyard, and then realized someone was standing behind her.
Turning, she saw Sarek.
"You
left the room quite precipitously. Are you all right?"
She
smiled and blinked a few times. "The music is evocative."
"Yes,
it is." He inhaled slowly, as if in meditation, and she wondered what
emotions it had stirred up in him, what memories of his life with Amanda.
"My wife told you she was sick."
She
nodded. "But I didn't tell her that you'd told me. I didn't think you'd
want me to."
"Thank
you." He turned and she thought he was watching Amanda, who was smiling
and doing a fabulous job of appearing to not be anything but perfectly healthy.
"She's
remarkable, Sarek."
"Yes,
she is."
The
music changed, became sadder and deeper, and she could tell it was affecting
Sarek. "Are you all right?"
"If
I were not, I would be indulging emotions in a way unbefitting a Vulcan and
doing no honor to my role as her husband. I must be strong."
"Maybe
you shouldn't have invited Irixans to play, if that's
the case."
He
nodded, a small sigh escaping him. "I will remember that the next time my
staff suggests booking them."
"Good
plan." From what she could see, the rest of the Vulcans seemed to merely
be appreciating the music as they would any other. None seemed particularly
emotional.
How
isolated was this man? Surrounded by fellow Vulcans who knew nothing of his
pain. She imagined Sarek would do anything to keep it that way.
She
realized a Vulcan woman was watching them, and her expression was a little
stonier than the others. She looked familiar. "Who is that? In the light
green robe."
Sarek
glanced casually around the room then said, his voice tight, "T'keya. She is on my staff." Something changed in his
expression, his lips tightening, his color darkening—was he blushing? Or
was he angry?
"Does
she not like you—or me?"
"She
no doubt wonders why I am talking with you alone like this. She has remarked to
Amanda on my choice of ships—how frequently I choose the Danube. The suitability of such a
choice."
Holy
shit—the gossip was a Vulcan? She'd seriously suspected Pavel.
She
decided to play dumb. "Not sure I follow. Something wrong with the Danube?"
He
looked disappointed in her. "My wife invited you here tonight. For a very
specific reason. She is attempting what she termed an end-run to cut off any
speculation."
She
sighed. "If I'm causing a problem, then I'm sorry. I can remove
myself—"
"You
can enjoy the evening as our guest, as my wife intended." He indicated she
should walk further into the courtyard. "And she will show anyone who is
concerned that our friendship—that any private conversation we wish to
have, such as now—is no threat to her or our relationship."
Chapel
glanced back. Amanda was at the doorway and she gave a little wave, her smile
brilliant. Was it a good day for her pain wise or was she that good an actress?
"Should I be worried that neither of you appear to be concerned about how
I feel about all this gamesmanship?"
"We
are doing this as much for you as for ourselves."
She
leaned in. "I was engaged to my advisor. It was a relationship that was
frowned upon. I had to lie. I had to pretend. I had to do any number of things
to keep his reputation from being sullied." Her reputation, on the other
hand, was never Roger's concern. "I did it because I loved him. But
worrying about stupid people saying stupid things isn't something I want to
deal with again." Even if plenty of people had said it about Will and her.
They'd been wrong, but they'd been certain. Bad combination. And looking back,
those rumors might have been why the best ships hadn't lined up for her. She
should have waited, served some time as deputy under a captain no one thought
she was sleeping with, then made the switch with better options to choose from.
He
moved closer. "We did not wish to upset you."
"It's
just...it was bad enough when the rumors were true. But I'm just..." She
realized she was tearing up—what the hell was wrong with her? "I
mean, we're friends, right?"
"Yes."
"But
on the ship. Friends there. Here...this feels weird." She saw an exit on
the far side of the courtyard, one that led to the cloakroom and the way out.
"Please, tell Amanda I enjoyed the music greatly."
"You
do not have to leave, Christine."
"I
think I do. I really think I do." She laughed and it wasn't a pretty
sound. She wanted to find her friends and talk and have them tell her she was
being stupid. But Ny was with Spock, and Jan—who the hell knew what she
was doing? Still not answering Chapel's comms.
Why
didn't she have more friends? Why was she always content with just a few close
ones? It worked great until they were gone.
Sarek
turned her and said softly, "Is there something else bothering you? This
seems a minor thing to become emotional over."
"I'm
a fucking human. We're emotional." She could feel her face reddening.
"I mean—"
"Your
meaning was quite clear." He sounded amused rather than offended. "Do
you think I have never heard that word before? In worse ways than how you used
it?" He touched her arm, letting his hand lie on her skin. "You are
unhappy. Generally, not just about this."
She
jerked free of his stupid telepathic hands. "Leave it alone."
"So
only I am expected to share unpleasant truths?" He cocked his head and
waited.
She
finally said, "I don't like my job."
"Your
posting, you mean? You seem to enjoy practicing medicine. And the posting will
improve. Captain Talbot is being replaced by Captain Carson, is he not? "
"A
man who, when introduced to me, called me a 'another refugee from the Enterprise' and then proceeded to ignore
me for the rest of the 'get to know your new captain' meeting. I'm his
goddamned CMO and he completely snubbed me." She closed her eyes.
"Stupidest thing I did was flee the Enterprise."
"I
disagree. I believe it was the wisest choice you could make given the
circumstances. Carson will learn you are a fine officer and a person he can
trust. Just as Captain Decker did. Just as I did." Sarek's voice was very
gentle. "Give him a chance to surprise you."
"Surprise?
A Vulcan advocating surprise?"
"It
is unexpected, but also excellent advice, do you not agree?"
She
nodded grudgingly.
"Go
rest. I also sensed you are very tired."
"I
am." She tried to give him a game smile. "It's making me stupidly
emotional. I'm sorry."
"Do
not be. Go. Rest. So you can be the competent officer we both know you
are." With a last, gentle look, he turned and walked away.
She
got her wrap from the young Vulcan manning the cloakroom and left, then pulled
out her personal communicator and commed Jan. She
just wanted to catch up, maybe get a drink and relax a little with someone who
knew her from before—and wasn't dating her old crush.
"The
person you have called is not available. Please leave a message."
She
didn't.
##
Chapel
was just finishing up some reports when she sensed someone in her doorway.
Turning, she saw Sarek. "Long time, stranger. Avoiding me?"
"I
thought it prudent to give you...space."
She
laughed at the pun, if that's what he meant it as. "You didn't need to.
I'm sorry I got upset at your party." She waved him into her office.
"Take a load off."
He
looked...tired. Haggard, even, for a Vulcan.
"Bad
spell for Amanda?"
He
nodded but seemed unwilling to go into it further than that.
"I'm
sorry."
Again
the nod.
"Are
you mad at me?"
"Anger
is an emotion." His voice lacked conviction, and even he seemed to realize
it because he looked contrite. "I...I have missed talking to you."
She
imagined he had. Who else could he talk to about what was going on with his
wife? Chapel had provided a release and now it was gone, and he was probably
feeling irritated. "I'm sorry."
He
closed his eyes for a moment—a great concession to how comfortable he
felt with her, she thought—and let his breath out in what was almost a
sigh.
"I
really am sorry, Sarek. I didn't mean you had to find a new ship to ride on. Or
that you couldn't talk to me."
He
didn't open his eyes, just gave her an almost defeated nod. Then he seemed to
pull himself together, becoming the Vulcan ambassador before her eyes, the
steely expression, the straight posture. She smiled gently to let him know she
understood, that she appreciated his strength—or his ability to simulate
it during a bad time.
"Has
your relationship with Carson improved?" he finally asked.
"No.
And I found out he's got his own person he wants in this slot and has been
looking for a way to gracefully remove me. In a moment of startling
synchronicity, Starfleet Medical wants me back—to teach a special course
in emergency medicine to non-medical personnel—so I can conveniently save
him the trouble of a 'Run Chapel out of town' campaign. They seem to think my
experience as both nurse and doctor makes me uniquely qualified to teach
average Joes how to patch up their comrades when they're parsecs from a med
unit." Her voice held a trace of rancor she didn't mean to be there, but
wasn't going to apologize for.
"I
imagine it will be an excellent opportunity."
She
cocked her head and gave him her best "Don't bullshit me" look.
"Or
Carson may have a friend in Starfleet Medical who engineered this."
"Far
more likely." She laughed, the sound just an angry puff of air. "I
really should have stayed on the Enterprise."
Except what would that have been like? Watching Spock and Ny happy? Working for
McCoy...again.
Sarek
met her eyes. "We are both unhappy, then."
"Seems
like." Then she realized how selfish she was being. He was losing his wife
to a long-term illness. She was just in a career slump. "But I'll be okay.
Will you?"
"I
am Vulcan. It is in my DNA to be...okay." He lifted an eyebrow, and it
showed how little he believed the party line.
"You
can always talk to me, you know. I'll be easy to find. May even have my own
office."
He
nodded, his eyes gentle. "It is a kind offer. I have appreciated your
willingness to let me speak of personal matters.""
There
was something final in the way he said it. Like he appreciated it but wasn't
going to take advantage of her friendly ear anymore.
Maybe
it was easier to unload secrets in space, where his wife was far away, to a
woman he wouldn't happen to run into on Earth. He could vent and forget it
until the next time he needed to unload.
She
nodded her understanding.
But
it still stung.
##
It
was strange being on Earth after so many months on the Danube. Strange but good. She enjoyed the solid feel of her home
planet under her feet and didn't miss the constant vibrations of the ship or
the not-quite-fresh tang of recycled air. And she sure as hell didn't miss the
captain or crew.
Which
she knew was as much her fault as anyone else's. There were no doubt some very
nice people on board, people who would have made fine friends, but she'd been
of no mind to seek them out. Maybe she'd always sensed the job wasn't going to
be one she should get too comfortable in.
She
felt the same way about the course Starfleet had asked her to teach, it already
had the feel of "been there, done that" to her.
And
truth to tell, she missed seeing Sarek—or perhaps more accurately missed
the time alone she'd had with him. He'd become a friend—an important one.
He might think she'd been the one helping him, but he'd done a lot to keep her
sane while she was on the ship. She saw him in the corridors of Starfleet
Command frequently enough, and he always gave her a gentle nod, even stopped a
few times to see if she prospered. But then they moved on and life went back to
normal.
Sharing
time was over. At least no one would be gossiping about them anymore.
She
was heading back to Starfleet Medical after grabbing lunch in one of the
auxiliary cafeterias, when she saw blonde hair and the familiar walk of her
friend. "Jan?"
Jan
didn't turn around, but Chapel was sure she saw her almost jerk, so she hurried
past people and said, "Hey. Wait."
Jan
slowed but didn't look at her, but from the side her jaw was tight. "I've
got to get back. They don't give us long for lunch."
"OCS
they? The place you didn't tell me you'd transferred to."
She
turned and her expression, if anything, got colder. "Yeah. I'm in it.
Finally." She seemed to put on speed.
"Jan,
Jesus, wait. I haven't seen you for how long?"
"Well,
now you have." The bite in Jan's voice gave the Arctic a run for
frigidity.
A
vague sense of panic filled her, a sense of being alone while surrounded by
hundreds of people hurrying off to do important and difficult things. And she
was teaching people how to fucking use a regenerator in zero-G? Her voice was
way more pathetic than she wanted it to be when she said, "I thought you'd
be happy I was back."
Jan's
expression finally opened up a little. "I am. It's just...OCS is hard, you
know. Takes up a lot of time."
She
knew a bullshit excuse when she heard it. Jan could make time for her if she
wanted to—she was one of the quickest studies she knew. "Right. I'm
sure you're doing nothing but cramming for OCS finals." She turned, and
was surprised at the way Jan grabbed her, the almost painful tightness of her
grip as she pulled them out of the main traffic pattern and into a side
corridor.
"You're
the one who spent all the quality hours in school, Christine. You know how much
work it is. Or is OCS not quite the same thing as your gazillion PhDs?"
There was a note of something other than professional hurt under her voice. A
note Chapel didn't understand.
"Why
are you mad at me? What did I do?"
"I
saw you with him."
"With
who? With Spock?" Is that what had Jan up in arms—that she'd seen
Chapel leaving Spock's quarters the night he'd wanted her to stay? She hadn't
stayed—she'd left the ship instead. And she'd told Jan she was going to.
What would piss Jan off about that?
"Not
Spock." Jan's expression tightened. "Besides, Ny's
with Spock. Happy with him, in point of fact."
If
it was meant to hurt, it did. Chapel looked away. "Then who the hell are
you talking about?"
"Who
the hell do you think I am?" She crossed her arms over her chest.
"The captain."
"If
this is about Will—"
"My captain, Christine. James T.
Kirk. I waited for you to tell me
and you never did. You transferred off, bitching the whole time about Spock as
if I believed that was the reason."
"What?"
Jan was talking about Kirk? What the hell?
"You
were walking out of a bar with him. You were arm and arm—looked extra special
cozy."
Chapel
thought back. "Oh, shit, Jan. He'd taken me to meet Decker. He was pissed
off at life in general and his wife in particular and got really drunk. He
thought he had antitox with him but didn't—and
neither did we. Will asked me to make sure he got home okay."
"So
you tucked him in and made him warm antitox milk with
a sex chaser?" The sarcasm oozing from Jan's voice wasn't something Chapel
was accustomed to being on the receiving end of.
"No,
I left him with his goddamned doorman and went home. You thought I was sleeping
with Jim Kirk and all this time you never said anything?"
Jan
finally seemed to drop some of her attitude, possibly at the sheer bewilderment
Chapel knew had to be on her face.
In
what universe would she sleep with James "T. is for 'Tonight's the
Night'" Kirk?
"You
really didn't?"
Chapel
shook her head. "Why didn't you just ask me?"
"You
were distant, Christine. From the
moment Decker picked you. It was
like suddenly you were in some new strata—one that didn't include me. And
then Decker was dead and you were leaving the ship, so I thought Kirk was
enforcing his 'Not in the Nest' policy and that's why you were fleeing. The
whole thing with Spock coming on to you and you deciding he'd never love you
enough...? The Christine I knew
would have made him love her. So...what the hell was I supposed to
think?"
So...this
was her fault? Chapel rubbed her forehead, suddenly way too tired to deal with
this. "I fled because of Spock, but not just because of him." And she hadn't stopped fleeing. Was
teaching going to be any better than the Danube?
Not that she'd had a lot of choice—Carson would have gotten her off his
ship one way or another.
"Did
you leave because Ny wanted Spock?
Any fool could see she was into him." There was still a trace of
acid in Jan's voice, like jabbing ugly truths into Chapel was a goal.
"Because
a guy is the only reason to leave? Oh wait, that's why you just left the ship,
right? Again?" Something broke inside her, something dark and lonely and
angry as hell. "The man you can't get. But a man I bet would break his
rule in a second for the right woman." She stopped herself just short of
saying for a smarter one.
But
Jan seemed to know it. "I'm late." She turned and hurried off.
Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Chapel leaned against the wall and held her hand up; she was
shaking.
What
the hell was wrong with her?
And
who the hell was she going to talk to about it?
She
closed her eyes and breathed in and out slowly, the way she used to when
something had happened in the lab with Roger, when she'd had no one but him to
talk to. When she'd been simultaneously in love and isolated—all her
friends left behind by the lying and her precipitous rise.
She
closed her eyes. Her rise. She was used to climbing high and fast. Was it so
impossible for Jan to realize that Chapel was ambitious? That she probably
would have had tenure at a university by now? That she could have been someone
in the community that came first in her heart: science.
But
she'd traded that community in for this one. For Starfleet. She'd risen
once—Will had put her on the fast track—and she'd do it again.
She'd be the best damn teacher Starfleet Medical had ever had and keep her eyes
open for other opportunities, better ones, ones that would get her what she
wanted: rank, significance, and the ability to make a difference.
And
this time she wouldn't do it riding on the coattails of a man.
Part 2
Chapel
surveyed the room full of Marines, Security, and Emergency Ops personnel,. Her
class for the average Joe had turned into a serious seminar for people who
often found themselves in the deepest shit, and she loved how many bizarre, but
real-life, scenarios they presented her with.
In
the back of the room, two doctors were learning the ropes. Not the medical
part—any decent doctor with a specialty in emergency and trauma could
teach this. It was how to deal with officers who were...well, high energy might
be a kind way to put it. Wild. Out there. Gung ho.
Crazy.
Most of them were some bit of crazy. But Chapel loved them and she suspected
she had some crazy in her she'd never realized. It was probably why she'd
stayed on the Enterprise as long as
she had rather than going back to academia.
There
was someone else in the back. Admiral Cartwright had a huge grin on his face as
she taught what was her penultimate seminar. It had been his idea to tailor the
generic class to one that would suit his people and other first responders, his
doing she suspected that she'd gotten her lieutenant commander bars faster than
she ever expected, and now he was pulling her into Ops itself.
She
was terrified. And excited.
This
was what she wanted. To matter. To make a difference. To live an exciting life.
To have some fucking fun before she was too old to really enjoy it.
And
not because some man wanted to sleep with her. Cartwright had never hit on
her—had never even looked at her in a way that made her think he was
interested in that. He was her champion because he liked her brain, not her
boobs or legs or ass.
It
was amazing. It was like working with Roger had been when they were just
focusing on the science. Pure collaboration as they built this course together
into something so far from a "Get this woman off my ship" excuse it
was practically unrecognizable.
That
it would take two officers to replace her made her warm inside. Excelling was
good for the soul.
One
of the doctors traded places with her, teaching this segment for the first time
and seeming to get energy from the give and take with the students. Chapel
didn't think the other doctor would find it as energizing. She tended to be
more "by the book," and in the back of beyond, the book was often nowhere
to be found.
Sort
of like her best friends. She and Ny had lunch occasionally, and the hugs they
opened and closed the occasion with never felt fake, but there was a Vulcan
between them and Chapel thought they both knew it. It was just easier to keep
some distance and preserve what they had to what extent they could.
The
longer she taught this course, the more Chapel thought distance with Ny was the
way to go. It was pragmatic. And left Ny's
relationship with Spock not something she could resent overmuch.
But
Jan... Sometimes Ny pulled all three of them together for a girls' night out,
but if she left the table, an uncomfortable silence would fall almost
immediately. They'd never found their way back to anything resembling normal,
and Chapel wasn't sure why. If Jan still thought she'd slept with Kirk, then
there was nothing she could do to convince her otherwise. But it hurt. That she
wouldn't talk to her about it. Chapel had tried, at first, but she'd been too
unhappy in general when she'd first gotten back to Earth to spend that much
energy on Jan.
On
anyone, really.
She'd
avoided Sarek and Amanda as much as she could, too. Amanda was easier since she
was rarely on the compound, but Sarek did cross her path from time to time.
They
were more than cordial. Chapel always felt a flutter of warmth when she saw
him, and she missed the closeness they'd forged on the Danube, but she had a feeling it had been situational and letting
it go gracefully was her best bet.
It
was the grown-up thing to do, and she was trying to be one of those. She'd let
Roger run her life instead of making choices for herself, and then once he was
gone, she'd derailed her entire life to find him.
How
different would her life have been if she'd just let him stay lost? What might
she be accomplishing? He'd left her behind when she could easily have been
included on his mission, and if she'd been the woman she was now, she'd have
given him back his ring and moved on.
So
many things she'd do differently. But not worth dwelling on. This was her path
now.
And
it looked like a good one.
##
Her
terminal was blowing up with shit that wasn't even an emergency. After a year
of this, she no longer panicked when messages came in this fast. She took a
deep breath and went through her queue the way she used to do triage during a
crisis on the Enterprise. Critical,
do now; critical, but can wait a bit; medium priority; admin shit she couldn't
ignore but would have a good excuse to put off; and bullshit she could erase.
"Look
at you go." A warm voice, one she thought she wouldn't hear anymore at
Command.
"Admiral?"
She turned and grinned at Kirk. "You can take the boy out of Starfleet but
you can't take Starfleet out of the boy."
"Hardly
a boy, Chris. And for God's sake, call me Jim. I'm retired." He looked
good. Tanned and rested. "I was surprised when Matt told me you were
working in Ops. Crazy is born here, you do realize that?"
She
laughed. "Well, since you're hanging around here, I could say to go look
in the mirror."
"I'm
just taking your fearless leader out for his birthday."
"Crap.
It's his birthday?"
He
nodded. "He keeps it as under wraps as I try to do with mine. If, though,
you wanted to surprise him in a way that would make him happy and not annoyed,
a bottle of Balvenie would go a long way."
She
leaned over the bank of terminals. "Hastings. You want a break?"
Hastings
nodded with a grin that said he knew where he was probably headed. He always
managed to sweet talk his way into a discount at the local mom and pop store. Well,
actually it was a pop and pop store, and one of the pops had a wicked crush on
him.
"Use
what you have to get what you need." One of the many Ops mottos.
She
tossed him the "Sunshine Fund" credit bar and pulled up his queue in
case anything needed covering. Then she looked back at Kirk. "Any
particular Balvenie?"
"I
doubt you can afford the thirty, but they make a lovely twelve that won't push
you all over your individual limits on what you can buy a direct supervisor and
still be within regs." He winked.
Hastings
laughed. "Got it, sir." And he was off.
She
laughed as she watched him go—oh to be young and beautiful again.
"You
love it here, don't you?" Kirk took in the room. "I wouldn't have
figured you for the pace."
"I
know. But I'm finding I get bored easily. Way more than I used to. This job,
it's always something new."
His
expression changed. "New is good."
She
wondered if it was possible he was already bored with retirement—and the
gorgeous woman he'd retired for. Chapel hadn't met Antonia, but she'd seen her:
the face that launched a thousand ships—and grounded one man.
He
seemed to throw off whatever he was feeling and grinned again, the megawatt
smile she was used to. "So Matt can't say enough good things about
you."
"After
the Danube, I will never take being
tight with the boss for granted again."
"That
was a crap posting with Talbot. And Carson, well, he's known for bringing his
own with him. They're known as the Carsonites."
She
laughed but wondered if anyone had a name for Kirk's inner circle. The Kirkettes, maybe?
"Listen,
Antonia and I are throwing a party at our house in the mountains next weekend.
You should come. Matt'll be there."
"He
and I aren't...you know. I mean I know I was involved with Roger, but that's
not me anymore."
He
rolled his eyes. "I just meant you'd know someone other than me if you
came."
"What
about the old Enterprise gang. I'll
know them."
"The
old gang will be on a training cruise." He looked wistful. "And
Antonia wants to have the party now, not reschedule."
Chapel
wondered whether Antonia had checked to make sure the Enterprise would be away before she chose this weekend. Keep her
man free from the people most likely to make him nostalgic for his old life? If
she was smart—and Chapel couldn't imagine Kirk staying long with a dumb
woman—she would.
And
it wasn't like Chapel minded them being gone. She didn't begrudge Ny and Spock
the happiness they seemed to have found, but that didn't mean she wanted to
watch it close up.
"I'd
love to come."
"Great.
Now try using my first name." He leaned over and programmed something into
her personal comm unit. "The address and our
number. People will probably be showing up around noon."
"I'll
be there. Jim."
"That's
better." He nodded to someone behind her. "Be right there,
Matt." As he turned, he whispered, "Remember I never told you about
his birthday."
"Got
it."
As
he moved away, she went back to screening the comms
and acting on the ones that were time sensitive. By the time Hastings got
back—with a bottle of the thirty-year-old; she didn't want to know how
much flirting it had taken to get that—his queue was sorted the way he
liked.
She
sent a quick all-hands text—excluding Cartwright, of course—about
the birthday, and that it was a secret how they knew today was the day, and
heard snickers around the bay.
"You're
a god," she said to Hastings as she stashed the bottle in her desk drawer.
"You're
a goddess," he said as he checked out his queue.
Then
they both went back to work. The one constant in this job: queues never stayed
clear for long.
##
"Chapel,
get in here." Cartwright could be heard throughout the bay.
She
finished pouring her coffee, then winked at Hastings and said, "Ah, I love
the dulcet tones of our lord and commander when he bellows," before
double-timing it into Cartwright's office.
"You
ready to up your game?"
"Meaning?"
"Quit
being a computer jock and hit the field?"
She
didn't even try to hide a very excited smile as she said, "Absolutely,
sir."
"You're
going to be working with diplomatic. It's not our preference, but often what
happens."
She
rolled her eyes at the crap diplomats often piled onto the already heavy
emergency load.
"Gonna be with Ambassador Sarek."
She
tried to hide her surprise. "Oh."
"He
asked for you specifically. He's picky about which of my folks he includes on
his missions. Something I should know, Christine?"
She
laughed and rolled his eyes. "Yes, we're having a mad, passionate affair
and he wants me near him. Jesus, Matt, he's a Vulcan. He considers me
competent—I take that as a very great compliment."
"Easy,
tiger. I didn't realize you knew him is what I meant."
"He
rode the Danube a lot."
"Why
in God's name would he do that?"
She
didn't think Sarek would appreciate her airing his and Spock's dirty laundry,
so she just said, "He had his reasons."
"And
I can see I'm getting nothing more out of you." He leaned back and his
look changed. "That was damn good Scotch, you all gave me."
"You
finish it yet?"
"I'm
savoring it. Taking my time. Did Jim tell you it was my birthday?"
She
shrugged.
"He
also knows my favorite scotch."
"So
do other people, sir."
"So
you're sirring me now, huh? Had to be Jim." He
sighed. "I'm worried about him. He seemed manic to me—did he seem
that way to you? Like he was trying to convince himself he was happy doing
nothing."
"Well,
he doesn't need to do nothing. Retirement doesn't mean not making a
difference."
"Agreed.
But a man like him needs to be in the stars. I give him a few more months and
then we'll see a memo that Admiral Kirk is back."
She
laughed. "I wouldn't bet against it." Not because Kirk had looked
bored, but because Antonia reminded Chapel of someone trying desperately to
hold on to someone or something they were sure they were going to lose. Which
was sad because Antonia was a sweetheart and it was clear Kirk really cared for
her.
But
space was probably something he loved more. And always would be.
Well,
Antonia would have to learn to share. Plenty of people made it work with half
of a couple on terra firma and the other roaming the stars.
No
reason Kirk couldn't be happy. In fact, Chapel thought he more than deserved
it.
##
Chapel
looked around the briefing room on the Celestia. She almost laughed at how the Ops personnel stood
out, just from the way they stood, the way they never quite relaxed. She
imagined with all the sitting around negotiation tables the diplomatic folks
did, relaxing became a survival technique.
Sarek
ended the meeting and as the others filed out, said, "Commander. A
word?"
She
waited for everyone to exit and the doors to close before she said, "Just
one word?"
"Sit."
"That's
the word?" She laughed as she pulled out the chair next to him out and
sat. "Long time since we've had any alone time."
"Indeed."
"Cartwright
said you asked for me by name. Color me surprised."
"Did
he wish to know why?"
She
nodded. "I told him you admired my competency."
"That
is true." He seemed to relax. "But I have also missed you."
She
dropped the 'tude. "And you're willing to admit
it? How much has the Cadmius progressed?"
"Extensively.
And not." He didn't appear to want to correct such imprecision, but she
didn't need him to. She could remember how it went with her friend's father.
"I'm
really sorry." She reached out and took his hand, not caring how beyond
appropriate it was.
He
didn't pull away. In fact, he laid his other hand over hers, pushing down and
closing his eyes as if taking comfort in the contact. They stayed like that for
a long moment, then he let her go. "You are happy."
He
didn't phrase it as a question probably because he'd read it straight from her.
Despite her sympathy for him and for Amanda, she was generally happy these
days. She didn't feel the need to elaborate, though—not when his life
wasn't heading in the most positive of directions—so she just nodded and
gave him the gentlest smile she was capable of.
"I
wished that for you. That you would find a place that would give you the
satisfaction you deserve."
"Thank
you."
"It
was self-indulgent of me to request you."
"I
don't care. I've missed you, too."
His
lips almost ticked up.
"I
wish to apologize, Christine. I...used you, as a sounding board, a giver of
sympathy. Your name—your reputation—could have been sullied by the
choices I continued to make simply because your company brought me comfort. I
was weak."
"We
were both alone, Sarek. Alone but with people in our lives who normally would
have served those functions, no?"
He
nodded.
"Aren't you worried it will happen
again?"
"T'Keya is no longer on my staff." He said it with as
bitter a tone as she'd ever heard from him.
"And
she was the sole problem? No one else will draw unwelcome conclusions if you
seek me out?"
He
let out a puff of air and she stared at him in surprise. There was nothing else
for the sound to have been but a laugh—and a wry one at that.
"What's
funny?"
"Ironic,
to be accurate. T'Keya is T'Pring's
sister. After what happened, there were harsh feelings between Amanda and T'Pring's mother T'Danra. I
thought that I could help by bringing T'Keya onto my
staff, by showing we wished the family no ill. She was always the more
brilliant of the two—the more dutiful also. She was an exemplary member
of my staff, a high performer."
"And
she betrayed you."
"I
do not know that she did." He met her eyes, his own dark, as if he was
still struggling with this. "I have never been able to ascertain her
motives. If she was protecting my wife from what she saw her sister do to
Spock. Or if she was punishing her for T'Pring's
fate. To be Stonn's property."
"As
I understand it, T'Pring's fate was of her own
choosing."
"That
is so. But Stonn chose another to wed. As was
expected by everyone but T'Pring apparently. She took her case to whomever
would listen. But tradition stood."
"I
feel for her. She loved another and paid the price."
"Yes.
But she should have married Spock and taken Stonn as
a lover if she wanted to keep her status. Having Stonn
as her husband was never an option."
"A
fact I find repugnant."
He
looked taken aback.
"Sarek,
some of your ways are barbaric. For all of your logic. I'm sorry. I call it as
I see it. She became property because she didn't want to marry someone chosen
for her when she was a child. That's horrible." She leaned in. "And
frankly, we might not admit a culture that treated its women that way into the
Federation, so I guess it's a good thing Vulcan was one of the founders."
He
sat very still, his eyes hard.
She
didn't look away, even though she really wanted to.
Then
he closed his eyes. "That thought has occurred to me, as well,
Christine."
It
seemed a monumental admission. One that hung between them for a long time. Then
he waved his hand, as if he could wipe the conversation away. "As if I am
a typical Vulcan? With my human wife and sons—son I cannot control."
"You
said sons. Plural."
"You
misheard."
"Bullshit."
She didn't know why she was pushing at him this way. About T'Pring. About
anything. Was she mad at him for leaving her alone for so long when they had
been so comfortable talking openly? "I'm sorry. Never mind." She got
up quickly. "I'll see you tomorrow. 0800, right?"
"Sit
down."
She
didn't.
"I
have another son. His name is Sybok. He chose to freely embrace his emotions
and was exiled from Vulcan. He is not spoken of—by me, our family,
anyone."
She
sat back down. "You and Amanda had two sons, then?"
"No.
I was bonded to a Vulcan woman before Amanda."
"You
divorced?"
"No.
She died." He met her eyes. "She did not approve of our son's
behavior. Saw it as his way to reach out to Amanda. To her humanity. To show he
did not disapprove of my relationship with her."
"Wait,
you were with Amanda...?"
"My
Vulcan wife and I could not divorce with a bond in place, but we could choose
to live apart. And who we lived with once we separated was no longer the
other's concern. Except of course every..."
"Seven
years," they said together.
"Spock
knew him?"
"Idolized
him. Until he went too far. Spock was attempting to conform with Vulcan
expectations, to not be judged for his humanity, and his full-Vulcan brother
was mocking convention." He met her eyes. "I should not be telling
you this. Do you understand that? This is not spoken of."
"You
never said anything." She reached out for his hand, holding tightly, this
time wanting him to read her sincerity—her ability to keep a secret.
"What other son? What other wife? I have no idea what you're talking
about."
"Thank
you." He gently extricated his hand. "I am hungry. Perhaps you could
accompany me to the mess hall? We could speak of less weighty matters. For
example, you could explain how teaching a class you were not sure you'd enjoy
at Starfleet Medical led to a position in Emergency Operations."
"I
could do that. Before we go, though, if I've offended you, I'm sorry. These
days I speak my mind, and I'm not sure I always care if it hurts people."
"You
did not hurt me. I did not expect to speak of most of the things we have
discussed, but it was not your fault that we did. It was no doubt an emotional
break on my part. I am not at my best without my wife."
"I
know." She waited to see if he wanted to say any more, but he simply shook
his head gently before indicating she should lead them to the mess hall.
As
they walked, she heard him say very softly, "I am grateful you are
here."
"So
am I."
##
"Chapel?"
Cartwright's voice boomed out and just once she wished he'd opt for a text. Her
head was killing her from too much drinking at an impromptu Ops happy hour that
had turned into an Ops all-nighter. The antitox she
hadn't remember to take until this morning had gotten rid of most of the
hangover but the headache didn't want to give up.
"Sir?"
she said as she walked into his office, then realized someone was sitting at
the small table in his room.
"Got
a new member of the team, starting next week. Figured you'd want to train her
up personally."
"Commander
Chapel," Jan said, her formality masking hostility that apparently
Cartwright wasn't seeing.
"Lieutenant
Rand."
"Oh,
cut it out, you two. I know you go way back. She's on comms
for now. But I expect her to get the full cross training, yeah?"
"Yes,
sir." Chapel looked at Jan and gave her the best smile she could muster.
"You'll like it here." She wasn't actually sure that was true.
"It's a great place to work." That, she believed.
"I'm
looking forward to it." She stood. "Sir, I have a meeting to get
to."
"Bet
you won't be sorry to leave those behind. See you on Monday, Janice."
"Thank
you, sir." She nodded—a bit warily it seemed to Chapel.
"Christine."
"Jan." She watched her friend leave, trying to
figure out how she felt about this enforced closeness they'd be enduring.
Cartwright
seemed unaware of the dynamic. "She does well here and she'll be a
lieutenant commander before she knows it." He looked up at her. "Did
you happen to glance at the promotion list?"
"It's
not out yet."
"Oh,
that's right. It's not out yet." He pulled her in to look at his screen.
"Congratulations, Commander. Maybe now you can afford decent antitox." He waved her out of his space. " Christ
on a crutch, woman, you look like shit today. I thought finding out you'd be
serving with a friend would perk you up some. Guess not. Go get some lunch
before you fall down."
"Yes,
sir." But she didn't leave, just stared at his terminal.
"It's
for real, Christine. Full commander is one of the big ones. Most people don't
get that high."
She
smiled, a real smile. "I know, Matt. I'm thrilled, really. But...shocked,
too. I mean I hoped but..."
"Well,
now you know. List will be released tomorrow morning."
"Thanks."
She turned and hurried back to her station, finishing up a few things and then
sending the queue to her back-up.
Fortunately
Ops was near the cafeteria, and she got her food and sat, wishing she'd opted
for a power nap over food, when she heard a soft cough behind her. She turned
and saw Sarek standing behind her. He wasn't holding a tray.
"If
you wish to be alone...?"
"Sit."
She smiled as he sat across from her in the booth.
"Are
you all right?"
"Oh,
late night." Then she started to laugh. "And, uh, I just found out
I've made Commander."
His
eyes shone; he seemed sincerely pleased for her. "Congratulations."
"Thanks.
So, what's the occasion? Another mission you want me on?" There had been
several more since the last one.
"Undoubtedly
there will be, but that is not what I wanted to say. Amanda's health has
improved under a new therapeutic regime, one that is best continued on
Vulcan."
"That's
excellent." She knew she was beaming—both for him and for Amanda.
"We
will be gone for some time. I wished...I wished to say goodbye."
"For
now." At his look, she laughed. "Goodbye for now. You're coming back,
right?"
"Yes.
Eventually. But..." He looked down and seemed to be searching for the
right words. "I did not want you to think that this was like the last
time. When I let our friendship lapse with no explanation."
"Thank
you, but you don't have to tell me that. This is wonderful for you. I hope she
responds well to the new treatment."
"As
do I. I...I love my wife, Christine."
"I
know that." Although she thought it was indicative of his state of mind
that he would speak of love so easily. He needed this—his wife back.
Strong and healthy. "Safe travels, my dear friend."
He
met her eyes and held them for a long time, then seemed to have to force
himself to look away and get up. He seemed to be searching for some alternative
to goodbye.
"The
French say it best, Sarek. Au revoir."
"Until
I see you again."
"Just
exactly. Godspeed. And give Amanda my love." She wanted to pull him in for
a hug but settled for a huge grin instead, and watched him until he disappeared
into the corridors of Command.
##
"Hey,
stranger." Chapel embraced Kirk then let him pull her into line in the
cafeteria.
"You
got time to sit?"
"Sure."
They grabbed some food and as they found a booth to settle into, she said,
"Wow, look at you, back in uniform. How's Antonia feel about that?"
His
expression changed and she instantly felt bad. "Oh, shit, Jim. No. I
really liked her."
"I
did, too." He sighed. "She didn't want to share me with space. I'm
not sure why I have this impeccable ability to find women who can't share me
with the stars."
"I'm
not, either. And I'm sorry. I really am."
"I
don't want to talk about it. I do want to talk about a certain promotion."
She
mock squealed. "Have I got them snookered or what?"
"I'm
so proud of you, Chris."
"Thanks.
I'm pretty proud of myself, too." She focused on eating for a bit, but
studied him. He seemed down, despite the rah-rahs for
her. "Do you need distracting? I have funny things the Matt's said about
the Klingons."
Kirk
laughed. "I'm all right. Or I will be. Spock's letting me tag along on the
next training cruise. It'll be right after my birthday. Fifty." He sighed
in a dramatic way.
"Hey,
older is better than the alternative." She laughed at his expression.
"The stars will make it better."
"They
always do." He reached out and squeezed her hand. "I'm glad you're
happy, Chris. I never felt good about demoting you. You'd worked so hard and I
thought when I did it, that it was temporary, you know? We would beat the big
threat and then Decker would get the ship back."
"I
was mad; I won't lie. But I'm over it."
"I
can tell." He gave her hand another squeeze, then let go. "So you
seeing anyone? Please tell me one of us is happy in love."
"Nope.
I'm trying a new path. Getting to know me. Who I am. What I want. What I'm
capable of, you know?"
"All
good things. But they won't keep you warm at night."
She
laughed. "I have a comforter that does that just fine. And if I want some
physical release, there are always temporary solutions for that."
"Yeah.
I think that's what I'm going to be focusing on. I kind of thought I was in for
the long haul with Antonia, but joke's on me."
"Well
your girl will be very happy to have you back." At his look, she rolled
her eyes. "The Enterprise,
dimwit."
"Oh,
right. I hope she is. I've tried to stop thinking of her that way. Tried to let
her go. Hope she's not mad at me for it."
"She'll
love you forever. Duranium is very faithful."
His
laugh rang out and she looked around to see who was near them. She was met with
very hostile eyes from across the room. Jan, sitting with Ny, glaring at her.
"Fuck,"
she said under her breath.
"Excuse
me."
"Nothing."
Nothing except a whole lot more bitchiness to look forward to. Ny looked upset,
too, but Chapel had no idea why. Maybe Spock had forgotten an anniversary.
She
turned her attention fully back to Kirk. "So, does this mean you have to
give up that beautiful house in the mountains?"
His
expression was mournful as he nodded. "And Butler."
"The
great dane? That's not right."
"He's
better off with her." A statement that made him laugh bitterly, in a way
Chapel didn't completely understand. "Story of my life."
"You
lose a lot of dogs?"
"Something
like that." His comm unit buzzed. "Shit.
Morrow wants me." He took a last bite of his sandwich, then got up. "It
was great seeing you."
"Same
here. Oh, and happy early birthday."
"Yeah"—he
stuck out his tongue at her—"thanks."
She
wolfed down the rest of her meal, put her tray in the recycler, then walked
over to Jan and Ny. "Hi."
Jan's
"Hi," was full of hostility but Ny's just
sounded lost.
Chapel
crouched down. "What's wrong?"
"She
and Spock broke up. Not that you'd care."
"Jan,
please." Ny moved over so Chapel could slide into the booth. "It was
so nice at the start, you know? And then, things fell apart. Or not fell,
exactly. They sort of slid, gently. We're still friends. There's no
drama."
"I
hate it when there's no drama. I want to be able to hate someone with a clear
conscience." Jan was staring right at Chapel as she said it.
Chapel
decided to ignore the jab. "I'm sorry, Ny. For what it's worth, I thought
you two were really good together."
"Yes,
because you spent so much time with them."
"Jan,
what's your fucking problem?" Chapel pitched her voice low, so it would
stay in their booth. "Is it because I was having lunch with a man you
can't let go of? Because if that's the case, get over it. I got over Spock, you
can get over Kirk."
"Does
that mean you're with him?" Ny sounded confused.
"No,
I'm not with him. I've never been with him. Why in the hell would I be with
him?"
"I
don't know." Ny held a hand up. "I never thought you were."
Chapel
leaned in. "Jan, for the last time, nothing is going on. He was in the
cafeteria when I walked in. We didn't have prior plans to meet—it was
just spontaneous." She didn't see Jan's expression giving any quarter.
"Jan, please? I don't want to fight. We work together. If we can't be
close like we used to, can we just find a way to get along?"
She
finally saw Jan give a hard swallow, the kind you do when you're upset, or
scared even. She moved while she had the opening. "I don't want to lose
you." Which wasn't entirely true. But if it made Jan ease off the
animosity, she'd put her whole being into trying to make it sound earnest.
"I'm
sorry. You two just seemed so at ease. I...I lost it." Jan sighed and
Chapel thought she heard a world of negativity being let go with the sound.
"I'm sorry, Christine. I really am. You keep so much stuff to yourself,
these days. I feel—excluded.
Even working with you, I feel like I don't know you."
"There's
nothing to exclude you from. There's work. That's pretty much it right
now." She saw them both nod. "For all of us, I guess."
Ny
looked up, with the "fuck this" expression in her eyes that Chapel
had seen so often during their first voyage. "I say we all go out. Dress
up. Find some boys. Use them till they cry. And move on."
"Can
we skip the crying part," Chapel muttered and heard Jan laugh—she
felt a stunning amount of relief at the sound.
"Fine.
But we're definitely picking up some boys." Ny glared at them both like
they were going to argue with her. "This weekend. Before I ship out and am
stuck taking orders from the man I used to make love to." She looked like
she might lose it for a moment, then put her chin up. "Well, fuck him,
too. Or not. Not ever. He's losing out. Kiss all this goodbye,
Spock."
"That's
the spirit, Ny. We'll show all those stupid guys," Jan said, and smiled at
Chapel.
For
once, they seemed in perfect accord.
##
Chapel
sat stunned, unsure what she was seeing in the private comm
from Ny. In a week of bizarre and heartbreaking moments, this was the
strangest: Spock was alive again, and Ny was exiled with Kirk and the rest of
the crew on Vulcan—with a stolen bird-of-prey in place of an Enterprise that Kirk had apparently
destroyed while resurrecting Spock.
She
walked into Cartwright's office and showed him her comm
unit. "Does any of this make sense to you? I know you were just up with
the CINC."
"He's
done it now," Cartwright said as he paced the room. "Goddamn it, what
was he thinking? They'll want his head on a pike."
She
realized he was looking at her. "Who will? Starfleet?"
"The
Klingons. Who the hell else? They were already spun up after Khan set off
Genesis. Now this?" He stopped and stared at her. "He needs a
champion."
"Okay."
"A
respected ambassador comes to mind."
"Sarek's
been through enough."
"You
can get him back here."
"I can? What's that supposed to
mean?"
"Christine,
he always asks for you. Clearly, he feels comfortable with you. I don't know
why and I don't care to know. Just...use it. Get him here to testify on Jim's
behalf." He leaned in. "All the council is hearing right now is from
the so-called injured parties. What's going to happen if no one speaks for him?
Do you have any idea what a Klingon prison is like? There's no justice there,
just barbarism and survival of the fittest. Is that where you want your friends
to go?" He did something to his terminal then stood. "Private
channel—and I do mean 'private.' I'll give you the room. Call him.
Please?"
"Okay."
She took his place at the terminal, waited for him to leave, then located
Sarek's number via Spock's emergency contact information in the Starfleet
Medical directory and commed him.
Amanda
answered. "Christine?"
"I
need to speak to Sarek. About a mutual friend who is in deep trouble."
"Hold
on, dear." The screen went blank for a moment, then Sarek's face filled
it.
"You
know how much trouble a certain admiral is in?"
"I
do. I feel partly responsible. I asked him to bring Spock's katra home."
"I
have no idea what that is, and you can explain it later if you think I should
know, but we need you here. From what I understand, the conversations in the
council are, shall we say, one-sided and calling for blood. He needs an
advocate. A respected one."
"I
am not objective. He just returned my son to me."
"You
are Sarek of Vulcan. You are renowned for putting the greater good over the
needs of any one person. They will listen to you. You will make them listen to you."
"I
did not realize you and Kirk were close."
"We're
not really. But...he's been good to me. And a very long time ago, I let him
down." She hated thinking about all the things she could have done
differently in those caverns when they found Roger. "I owe him this. I'm
not asking for much. Over and back. I know it's inconvenient, but Amanda looks
really good so I think you can leave her, yes?"
His
expression changed.
"What?"
"She
has stopped responding to the treatments. They are trying new combinations to
see if they can maintain effectiveness. For now she is well but..." He
looked away. "But yes, for now I can leave her. I will be there as soon as
I can."
"Thank
you."
She
punched the button that opened the door and Cartwright turned. "He's
coming." She got up and swayed a little.
How
could Spock be alive? She'd cried, alone, in her apartment. Then used a
regenerator so Jan wouldn't see she'd mourned.
Why
the hell did she have to hide it from her friend? Because she'd said she'd
moved on, and she had, but still—he died.
Cartwright
was at her side. "You okay?"
"I
don't understand anything. I'm not part of this." If there was ever a time
it was clear she was not a member of the inner sanctum, this was it.
And
yet it was she who would bring Kirk's advocate to Vulcan. What had Sarek been
going to do? Stay on Vulcan and leave the man who saved his son to twist in the
wind?
"Why
don't you go home? You don't look good."
"No.
Home is the last place I need to be." She walked to her station, sat, and
began going through her queue.
The
whole quadrant was going to shit.
But
Sarek was on her way. If anyone could make sense of it, it was him.
##
She
walked past the post-whale-probe clean-up efforts and
found Sarek about to enter the council chamber. His look was gentle as he
greeted her.
"I
almost got you killed. I'm sorry."
"You
did not mean to."
She
laughed. "You're right." She could feel a yawn starting, tried to
stop it, and failed.
"When
did you last rest?"
"I
have no idea. I'm so tired. I'll sleep tonight, though."
A
chime sounded and the doors to the chamber opened. They followed others in, and
Chapel stuck close to him and Gillian, the stowaway who was apparently going to
be on a science vessel. Chapel wasn't sure what to make of that.
And
then Spock joined them. Alive. Off, somehow. Stiffer than she remembered. But
there. Maybe...?
He
met her eyes and nodded pleasantly, but there was a hint of wariness in his
eyes. Apparently, resurrection did not make the heart grow fonder.
It
was almost a relief to let it go. The wanting. The love. All of it. He was
never going to be hers.
Another
chime, and people began to take their seats. Sarek murmured, "Are you all
right?" to her and she nodded, then went to sit by Jan who gave her a game
smile. They were trying to make their friendship stronger. It was work, when
before hanging around together had been the easiest of things to do, but at
least they were trying.
The
hearing didn't go how she expected, much to her delight. Once it was done, she
hurried down to Ny and hugged her tightly. "I'm so glad you're okay."
"So
much to tell you." But given the sad way she looked at Spock, Chapel
didn't think it was that they'd gotten back together. "Gotta
see this new ship first, though."
Chapel
nodded and left the chamber, heading off to a rarely used corridor where she
knew she could be alone and just sit in the quiet.
She'd
nearly died. They'd all nearly died, and there would have been no handy-dandy
Vulcan resurrection ritual to bring them back once the whale-probe got done
with them.
Sarek
had nearly died because of her. She'd asked him to leave Amanda and what if
he'd never gone home? Who would have taken care of her?
"You
seem pensive."
She
didn't even question that he'd found her here. "Big thoughts rattling
around in my tired head."
He
sat, and his robes gave off a subtle scent of incense, one that she
enjoyed—that made her feel safe. "You were happy to see my
son." He met her eyes.
She
didn't look away. "He couldn't have cared less that I was happy to see
him. I think—I think that was the stake in the heart that this stupid
crush needed. Nothing's ever going to happen between him and me."
His
eyes seemed unusually intense. "I am unsure what to say."
She
laughed. "You could forget about Spock and give me a rash of shit over
nearly getting you killed."
"I
could. But I do not wish to." He leaned back. "I am tired, too,
Christine."
She
studied him, trying to be a doctor, not just his friend. "So the
treatments—she's not better?"
"Better
than when we left for Vulcan, but less well than she was a week ago. The
improvements stopped precipitously. The doctors are unsure if the disease
mutated or if the formula they used was bound to have limited effectiveness
once the body developed a tolerance for it."
"But
they'll tinker with it. Until they get it right. It's often frustrating, but
they'll figure it out."
"It
is kind of you to try to lessen my concern. It is futile, however. I do not
foresee a miracle cure for my wife." He sounded forlorn as he said the
brutal truth. Then he turned to her, his eyes hard and demanding. "Do
you?"
"No,
but Vulcans are brilliant. They will surely find the right mixture—"
"She
is human, Christine. How much time do you think they will spend attempting to
create a cure for a disease to which Vulcans have natural immunity? A cure that
will benefit one woman and the small percentage of others who develop it on
Earth."
"The
needs of the many...?"
He
nodded. "I have not told her this. I tell her they make progress. I cannot
tell if she knows I am lying or not."
"Sometimes
lying is the kindest thing to do."
"It
is all I do with her these days. You and I speak truth so often. I would have
that back with my wife." He rubbed his eyes.
"Sarek,
go to the embassy and get some sleep. Despair and exhaustion go hand in
hand." Another Emergency Ops truism, but one she could get behind as a
doctor.
"I
will go if you also go home."
"Not
how it works. I'll leave soon. I just can't leave now. But you can. So
go."
He
stood and walked away but then turned abruptly. "I want you to know that I
value your friendship greatly."
She
gave him as brilliant a smile as she could muster. "I feel the same
way."
##
Chapel
sat with Ny and Jan in a club that she really hadn't wanted to come to, but
they were making strides the three of them, looking more like the solid pack
they used to be and less like people who just worked together, and she didn't
want to do anything to get in the way of that.
She'd
missed them.
"Dance?"
a man asked who'd sidled up next to her at the bar and already asked if he
could buy her a drink. She'd held up her nearly full one as an answer but he
was definitely not in the hint-taking department.
"No
thanks," she said.
It
wasn't that he wasn't a nice looking man or that he smelled bad. She just was
tired and not in the mood for someone new.
"Could
you be any more of a bitch to them?" Jan shook her head. "And you
wonder why I think you have someone on the side you're not telling us
about?"
"If
I had someone on the side I wasn't telling you about, I'd be dancing with
whoever asked." It was what she'd done when she was with Roger. She
glanced at Ny, who was watching the dancers with a look dark enough to scare
away potential suitors. "What's her story?"
"She
and Spock had a long talk. A not good long talk."
"Ugh."
But Chapel felt a surge of annoyance. Why did Ny always tell Jan this kind of
stuff and not her?
"Also,
she had a fling with Scotty under the influence of Spock's brother's woo woo. And how did I miss he had a brother? Did you
know?"
"I'd
have told you." Which was partially true. During their first mission, she
would have. "And Scotty?"
"She's
a little sensitive about it. Also about some wacky fan dance she did. Naked.
Don't ask unless you want to be seared by her crazy laser-beam eyes."
"I
can hear every word you're saying," Ny said, not turning away from the
dance floor.
The
peril of spending a life picking meaningful signal out of tons of noise was
probably that you heard everything whether you wanted to or not.
She
finally turned and stared hard at Chapel. "If you say anything to anyone
about any of this, I will hunt you down and kill you." She looked entirely
serious so Chapel held up her hands in surrender. "And Scotty was nice.
He...he gave me warmth when I needed it. When Spock was so cold, and then when
he wasn't but still didn't want me back." She looked at both of them.
"How am I supposed to work with him?"
"Transfer
off," they said as one.
But
Chapel knew she wouldn't. She was part of the club, and she didn't want to
start over somewhere else being an outsider. Also, truth to tell, she'd
homesteaded so long with Kirk, people had probably stopped considering her.
She'd need to make the first move, possibly take a less appealing job, just to
show she was serious about trying new things.
"What
if you and Roger had broken up, Christine?" Ny shook her head. "You
had projects in common, right? It would have been hard to leave?"
"What
project do you and Spock have in common?" Jan rolled her eyes.
Ny
looked hurt. "Years of missions."
"Those
are memories, not projects." Jan looked at the door and her expression
changed. "Jesus, can we never be free of them?"
Chapel
followed her gaze and saw Kirk and Len. They smiled when they saw them,
maneuvered through the crowd, and she could tell Kirk was going to ask her to
dance so as subtly as she could she shook her head and nodded toward Jan.
He
didn't ask why or even react, just smoothly adjusted his route in a way she
didn't think Jan would notice, and asked her to dance.
To
say she was pleased was an understatement.
Len,
ever the southern gentleman, didn't ask Ny or her, no doubt because he didn't
want to leave the other one alone. But also because he seemed to want to drink:
bourbon and a generous portion.
"Celebrating
or mourning?" she asked.
"A
little of both, I suppose."
"Where's
the final member of the trinity?"
"The
dour one?" Len grinned. "No idea. Probably meditating
somewhere." He smiled at Ny gently. "Certainly not where he should
be."
"Thanks,
Leonard."
"Just
speaking my mind. Man's an idiot." He turned to Chapel. "And what
about you? You boycotting serious relationships or something?"
"Asks
the king of them?" Saying that to him was mean; even this many years
later, he was still touchy about his divorce.
"Either
you need more of whatever you're drinking or you need to be cut off—not
sure where you are on the 'alcohol makes me mean and then nice and then mean
again' train."
She
laughed; he knew her too well. "I'm at the start. The first mean section
of the track."
He
motioned the bartender over. "Another of those for the lady. Suck that
down, Christine." He was far gentler with Ny as he took her empty glass.
"And she'll have another, too."
"No,
I've had enough." Ny slid off the stool. "I've got something I've got
to do. Go dance with Christine, Leonard." She gave them both quick hugs.
"Tell Jan I'll talk to her later."
Len
leaned against the bar and said, "Something she's gotta
do? In a pig's eye. Someone, is more like it. I feel for Scotty. He's crazy
about her, and she's using him to forget Spock."
"Isn't
that what any of us do, though? I mean in general. Use people?"
He
looked disappointed in her. "Yeah, we probably do. But not our friends,
Christine. Not our goddamned friends."
##
Chapel
followed an attendant into the sitting room of what must be Sarek and Amanda's
private quarters in the embassy. Amanda was sitting in a wingback chair, her
skin pale—she looked like she'd lost weight since the last time Chapel
had seen her, and she was tiny to begin with.
"Amanda.
What can I do?" She hurried over.
"I
need your help."
"Anything.
Do you need stronger meds—" She stopped talking as several more
attendants came out with luggage.
"Take
them to the flitter. I'll be there shortly," Amanda said, her voice little
more than a whisper, and Chapel had the feeling she was trying not to cry.
"Let
me go get Sarek for you. Where is he?"
"Sarek
is the last thing I need right now." She closed her eyes. "Or more
aptly, I might need him, but he's the worst thing I could have."
"Madame?"
A Vulcan woman in gorgeous robes stood in the doorway. She was
beautiful—but what Vulcan woman wasn't?
"Christine,
T'Rua," she waved off the rest of an
introduction. "Christine, T'Rua is a priestess
from Vulcan. She's here for Sarek. For the burning. Do you understand me or
must I speak more plainly?"
Chapel
stared at the the priestess who met her eyes with a
bland expression. She wasn't young; Chapel could see where make-up hid lines,
hair coloring probably masked gray. There was little she probably hadn't seen
in her years of...service.
"I
don't understand, Amanda. Where will you be?"
"Far
from here. If I tell you, you might tell him."
"Why
would I tell him?"
"Because
he trusts you. Because you are, I believe, the person he trusts most right now.
And because if he can't find me and he suspects that you know where I have
gone, he may meld with you and force the information from you. I don't want you
hurt and I don't want to be found."
"But
you're bonded... Won't he have to? With you, I mean." She shot an
apologetic glance at the priestess.
T'Rua helped Amanda out of the chair, then let her go. "It
is not uncommon for a bondmate to be unavailable
whether due to professional commitments or physical constraints. Sarek will
shift his focus away from her once he realizes has no other choice."
"How
far along is he?"
"A
day, maybe two," Amanda said. "I would suggest if you have leave, you
take it."
"Off
world, you mean?"
"It
will save you an awkward conversation with him, if nothing else. Do you really
want to be the one who tells him I ran from him?"
"Why
didn't you plan this together?"
Amanda's
look was annoyed. "We did. But logic departs when the Pon
Farr takes over. And the signs were clear so I called for T'Rua,
and now I will leave. As he and I planned—do you really think I wouldn't
talk to him about this?" Again the look, this time flat-out angry.
She
had to be feeling the burning, too. Not as much, being human and perhaps
gaining distance from the meds. But to some extent the Pon
Farr would affect her and leaving Sarek would feel wrong. Hence the anger.
"Do
you think you know him better than I do?" This time she sounded more like
Jan being jealous than suffering from guilt-induced anger.
"Amanda,
of course not."
"Get
off the planet, Christine. He will be angry with you for helping me. You don't
have to experience what he's like when he's unhappy." Amanda turned away,
holding out a hand to the priestess. "I'm ready to go. Please, if you
would, the stairs."
"Of
course." T'Rua nodded to Chapel, then helped
Amanda navigate the stairs.
Chapel
waited until they were safely out, took a last look around this room Amanda had
been in such a rush to leave, then took the stairs in as unhurried a manner as
she could and left the embassy Once she was well clear of the building, she
pulled out her comm unit and called Cartwright.
"It's
quiet this week, right? No killer machines or our friends facing Klingon
justice?"
He
laughed softly. "It is. You finally hit the wall?"
"Something
like that, yeah. I think I'll take some time off. If that's okay?"
"I've
been telling you to. Take a week. And rest up because I plan on taking two
weeks very soon and you're going to be in charge." He smiled gently.
"Going somewhere nice?"
"Yeah.
Just not sure where yet."
"Splurge.
You've got the credits, Commander."
She
smiled, loving the way he said it, the way he managed to make it sound
different than when she'd been a lieutenant commander. "Roger that,
sir."
##
Chapel
sat back in the leather chaise she'd bought when she'd graduated from med
school, sipped some wine she'd been saving, and enjoyed being just quiet in her
own place. She'd considered leaving, finding some exotic place to go visit, but
she couldn't get Amanda's words out of her mind. It would be easy to chalk up
anything she'd said to Pon Farr agitation, but she'd
seemed so determined to make Chapel want to leave.
And
to make her afraid of Sarek.
As
if he would ever hurt her? If Amanda thought that, then she didn't understand
the kind of friendship he and Chapel had.
Besides,
he might not even show up here. It wasn't as if he'd ever been over. And she
wasn't waiting for him. She was still in her pajamas for cripe's
sake in the middle of the afternoon. Taking it easy. Relaxing.
She'd
more than earned the time off, and she had this great place with a stellar view
and she was never in it. Not awake anyway.
Although
it was hard to stay awake with the sun shining in on her and the wine—and
too many hours on duty—making her sleepy. She closed her eyes and
drifted, strange fragments of thoughts merging with dreams.
Until
the repeated sound of her door chime woke her up.
She
called out "Come" as she was getting up, saw the look on Sarek's face
as he walked in, and realized maybe Amanda had been right.
Maybe
she didn't know him as well as she thought.
"Where
is she?" He was clearly furious.
"I
don't know." She tried the voice she'd used as a nurse, the one that
calmed down even the most panicked patient. "Sarek, listen to me. This is
not where you need to be."
"You
think I am not aware of that." He advanced, the movement predatory, and
she stepped back, until she was brought up short by the wall that separated her
bedroom from the main space. She tried to move, but he grabbed her by the
throat.
But
he didn't squeeze, and his grip was...gentle. "Where is my wife,
Christine?"
"I
don't know, Sarek." She tried to ease away, but he only grabbed her
shoulder with his left hand, his right still around her throat but not choking
her—she didn't think he'd even leave finger marks he was holding so
carefully. "She told me you'd come to me, Sarek. She told me you'd be
looking for her. She said you might even meld with me to find out. It's why she
wouldn't tell me where she was going."
"She
left me."
"She
wasn't strong enough. Her illness." She tried to ease away but he shook
his head. "She told me to tell you to go to the priestess that's come for
you. I'm to remind you she's waiting. T'Rua. She
expects you."
He
closed his eyes. "The priestess. Yes."
She
waited for him to let go. Waited for him to turn and leave her for the stranger
that he and Amanda had decided was the answer to this.
He
opened his eyes and stared at her in a way he never had before. "She
pleases me not at all."
"I'm
sorry."
He
seemed to realize how he was holding her and let go of her throat, sliding his
hand up to her face, stroking her cheek. Tenderly.
She
closed her eyes and bit back a moan.
"Christine,
why are you here? At your apartment instead of at Starfleet Command."
"I'm
on vacation. For the week. But...Amanda told me to go away, another planet, far
from you. That you would be angry with me. She implied..." She stopped
talking as he let go of her shoulder and ran his fingers through her hair.
"What
did she imply?"
"That
you might hurt me. To get the information you need." She grabbed his hand
and pushed it more firmly against her head. "I was going to go. Far, far
away. But...I'm not afraid of you."
"No,
you are not afraid." His lips ticked up, into the barest of smiles.
"And you did not wish to go. You are angry at her. But not at me."
"You're
my friend."
"Am
I not more than that?" He studied her, and she suddenly felt very exposed
in her tank top and pajama bottoms. "I came here. You should have been at
work, but I came here." He looked down, his expression thoughtful. "I
knew you were here."
He
met her eyes and she didn't look away. Finally, she whispered, "And I knew
you'd come. Even if I tried to tell myself I wasn't waiting for you."
"I
am gratified you waited." His pupils were dilated as he pressed against
her slowly. "I burn for thee."
"The
priestess."
"The
priestess has nothing that I want. I do not care for her." He found the
meld points and pressed gently. "As I do for you. Shall I show you?"
She
knew this was the moment. That if she told him no, he'd leave and go to T'Rua.
She
should tell him to go. But instead she whispered, "Yes. Show me."
For
a moment he kept himself under control, and she saw her interactions with him
playing quickly, the things he noticed about her, he liked her eyes; he loved
her smile.
And
then the rush of heat came, the burning, and she thought she should be afraid,
but he murmured, "I will not hurt you. I will never hurt you." And
she saw how he felt about other parts of her, how he wanted to touch her
breasts, the back of her neck, the small of her back.
She
gave herself over to the fire as he lifted her and carried her to the bedroom,
and she ripped his robe off him before he pushed her onto the bed and took her,
shifting clothing out of his way rather than removing it completely.
He
never let up on the meld, making it stronger, deeper, and for just a moment she
felt the sting of an observer.
He
slowed his thrusting, seemed to come back to himself, and they both breathed
hard as he continued to take her, as Amanda's presence faded out, no doubt as
her pain meds kicked in.
"Sarek,
I know you felt her, too. If you want the priestess...?"
"We
will not speak of the priestess—or my wife—again. Until the burning
is over."
He
hadn't let go of the meld and she tried to assess what he was feeling. There
was guilt, but less than she expected.
There
was something else, too. Love. He loved her.
"I
love you, too," she said as she wrapped her legs more tightly around him
and urged him to take her hard and fast—to claim satisfaction in a way
Amanda could no longer give him.
His
cry of pleasure as he buried himself in her echoed in her mind—she
wondered if it reached all the way to wherever Amanda had gone.
And
then he deepened the meld even more and she stopped thinking about anything but
pleasing and being pleased by him.
##
She
woke up, naked and half lying on him, a sheet wrapped around their legs, the
rest of the covers kicked all over the room. He was watching her with an
expression she couldn't read, but his eyes were gentle.
"Do
you have any idea what day it is?" she asked, a grin starting as he shook
his head. "Should I be sorry you're here?"
"I
cannot tell you how to feel."
"How
do you feel?"
"Do
you mean is the burning over? Yes, it is. Do you wonder if I feel guilty for
not returning to the priestess? Yes, I do. Do you want to know if I still
desire you now that the Pon Farr is over?" He
touched her face, then pulled her close and kissed her fiercely. "Does
that answer your question?"
"Very
thoroughly, Ambassador."
"I
am known for my thoroughness." He reached for her hand and guided it down
his chest, then lower, to where she could feel him growing under her touch.
"This is what you do to me, with no burning to urge me on."
"Is
it wise to tell me this? You have a wife you love. That I assume you do not
plan on leaving."
"Both
are true. And yet, I do not want you to think I used you only because you were
available. That it was only the burning that made me desire you. I wanted you. I still do."
"I
see." She tried to process
what to do with this information, then remembered the weird sense of sharing
him for a moment. "Amanda was there briefly, wasn't she? With us—between
us."
"Yes."
"Did
she know it was me?"
"I
believe she did. The emotion driving me would have been absent with any other
partner, barring her, of course."
"Fuuuuuuuuuuck." She let go of him and closed her eyes.
"It's why she wanted me to leave. She must have known, must have sensed
your interest?" She met his eyes; he nodded slowly. "She's going to
hate me. Or she already does."
She
realized she was starting to tear up and blinked furiously. She was not going
to cry. "I didn't set out to hurt her."
"I
know. She, too, will know that." His voice was so sweet, so careful of
her.
She
leaned in and kissed him. Not the enflamed kisses of the burning, but a gentler
touch. One of love. "I still want you."
"And
I you." But he didn't reach out, didn't pull her to him, and she loved him
for it. She loved him because he was a good man.
He
wasn't Roger with his bedmate of the week.
She
eased away from him and checked her comm unit.
"Three days in bed." She realized there were crumbs in the bed and
empty water containers on the floor. They'd apparently kept hydrated and eaten.
Not that she could remember it; her memories were of the many ways he'd taken
her, the things he'd asked her to do to him, the pleasure he'd given her.
"Normally
it is two days. For me, I mean. Each individual is different."
"You've
had to deny your desires, right? Because she's ill? It makes sense you might
have more frustration to get out once you were free to let go."
"Logical.
And no doubt correct."
He
eased himself up so he was leaning back against the headboard, and she settled
in next to him, her arm against his. "I want to stay in this bed,
Christine. I want to take you with no biological drive forcing my hand. You
must know that. But...I cannot."
"I
know." She felt him easing away and said, "Please tell me we'll still
be friends."
"What
you are to me—it is no longer something I can decide to be or not be with
you. It is. We are. I will always want to spend time with you. In all ways, not
just like this." He twined his fingers with hers for a moment, holding
tightly, then he let go and got up. "I must go."
"You
must shower. Then you should go." She grinned, trying to get them back
somehow to when it was easy and fun and not something he might run from. The
thought of him running nearly broke her. "Let me get you a clean
towel."
"Thank
you." By the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes, she could tell he
was thanking her for much more than just a towel.
##
Chapel
was once again following an attendant into Amanda's sitting room. This time
there was no priestess to overhear, no bags being prepared.
Amanda
tilted her head and studied her, her expression impossible to read.
You
knew hed come to me. What I can't figure out is if you wanted me to be there
for him—or if you wanted me very far away.
I
understand you better than you think, my dear. You're not unlike my son in that
respect. Tell you to go right, you go left."
Chapel
stared at her. Who was this woman? "Meaning?"
"Meaning
I...hoped Sarek would come to you, and I knew you'd be there if he did.
Hoped?
Hoped?
Oh,
Christine, please. Save the outrage. Do you think I couldn't see whats been
happening between the two of you? This is more than simply lust on his part for
a younger woman. He trusts you. He likes you. She stopped and Chapel
wondered if it was because she'd been about to say, "He loves you."
I
never meant for this—
You
think I don't know that?" Amanda took her hand, the gentle grip shocking
when Chapel expected anger. "Im not mad at you. Hes...satisfied. For the
first time in months. I want that for him. Her grip tightened and her
expression grew almost scarily grim. Do you love him?
I'm
not having this conversation with you. Chapel jerked her hand away and started
to get up.
Sit
down. Amandas voice was like a whip, and Chapel found herself minding. Sarek
is a Vulcan in his prime. I'm sick. We're bonded. What about this doesnt
compute for you?
Dont
you think hes capable of being faithful?
Amanda
leaned back and laughed—a horribly bitter sound. You're so smart
usually. Of course I know he is. That's the problem. I feel it. Every time I
come back from a bad spell, the bond springs back to life and his sexual
need...batters me. She swallowed visibly. He cant get to me when I take my
pain meds. They turn off the connection. I take them more often than I should
just to get some peace from everything he wants from me.
She
took a ragged breath. Do you have any idea what it was like to feel that
need...go away. Oh, there was guilt built in—I could feel it from him.
And it hurt, to be part of what he feels for you—and what you feel for
him. Did you think I could be bonded to him and not know?
Christine
looked down.
No,
don't do that. I told you. Im not mad. This isn't my preference, clearly. I'd
rather be there for him myself. But I can't and right now, well, it feels good.
All that desire gone, poured into something that wasnt me. She took Chapels
hand again. Someone that wasnt me. You. Someone I actually like. Someone who
can replace me eventually.
I
think the disease and the meds are keeping you from thinking straight, Amanda.
She knew it was a harsh thing to say but didnt care.
No,
darling, I see things so clearly. You're the one who's in denial.
He
wont come back to me. It was a temporary fix. Chapel closed her eyes, wishing
shed just stayed on the Enterprise
when Spock wanted to give it a whirl. Worrying about whether or not he wanted
Kirk would have been a walk in the park compared to this. She again pulled her
hand free.
He'll
come back to you. Because Im going to tell him what I just told you. Only in
less strident terms, perhaps. He'll be doing me a favor and getting what he wants.
The needs of the many...
Dont.
Dont pervert that.
As
if you wouldn't like having him? Who are we hurting with an arrangement like
this? My storys outcome is inevitable. Just the timing is uncertain. You love
with such consistency, Christine. It's why I always wanted you with my son. And
now you're ideal for my husband because I know you can wait to be his wife. But
you wont have to wait to become his lover. Amanda closed her eyes, her mouth
tightening, and Chapel knew she was in pain but offered no help.
You're
mad at me, arent you, child? Amanda laughed. I had to wait for him. Did you
know that? She reached into her handbag and pulled out a hypo, pushing it into
her skin and sighing. He was married when we met. Bonded. We were lovers while
he was tied to her. So I fully understand what kind of life Im asking you to
live. And...hes worth it.
She
wanted to tell Amanda she knew, she wanted to hurt her, let her know the trust
Sarek had put in her, telling her about Sybok, about so many things. But he did
trust her—to be discreet. So she stayed silent, biting back the hurtful
things.
Amanda
stood slowly. Hell probably be by tonight or tomorrow. Whenever I tell him.
Hell need time to think but ironically he tends to do his best thinking, when
it comes to matters of the heart, by talking to the woman he loves.
Youre
the woman he loves.
Yes.
But that doesnt mean you cant be, too. She leaned down and let her lips
linger on Chapels cheek. And we both know you already are. Im sorry,
darling, that I can't dress this up in rainbows and kittens for you. But I have
to take care of myself. She pressed her lips hard against Chapel's skin: a
cruel benediction. Then she left, her grace not at all affected by the pain or
the meds or what she'd just set in motion.
##
Chapel
didn't see Sarek for the next several weeks. He was on a mission the first
week, and then she was filling in for Cartwright for the next two, and working
until she dropped seemed a prudent way to not focus on how fucked up her life
might be.
Sleeping
in one of the cots they kept in a sleep room in the back of Ops also ensured
Sarek couldn't get to her, not now, when she was exhausted and stressed and
still so damned angry at Amanda.
But
then Cartwright came back, took one look at her, and pointed to the door.
"Forty-eight hours away from here." At her protest, he said,
"I'll comm if I need you."
She
nodded, relieved he was back, grateful to drop the act and let herself
collapse—but not too yet. She still had to walk home.
"Oh,
and Sarek's out there. He said he wanted to talk to you about an upcoming
mission." Cartwright narrowed his eyes. "You really are his
favorite."
She
just laughed, a short bitter puff of air. "What can I say? Years serving
with Spock taught me how to deal with Vulcans." Cartwright didn't know her
pathetic history with Spock or that excuse would never have flown. "Gonna leave before I fall down, boss."
"Git." He waved her off with a grin.
She
saw Sarek and knew her smile was a real one, if only half strength because she
was so tired. She could feel an energy between them even with no meld.
"I
left you alone."
"I
appreciate that."
"But
now we need to talk. And you are exhausted."
"Got
that right."
He
actually took her arm and steered her toward the VIP entrance. "I brought
a flitter."
"You
usually walk."
"I
could sense you were tired."
"How?
We're not bonded."
He
opened the door of the flitter and let her go first. "Some combination of
sympathy and intuition. I do not know, truthfully." He gave the flitter
her address and then leaned back.
She
curled her legs under her, and was surprised when he put his arm around her and
pulled her in. "Are you sure?"
"Be
still." If any other man had said it, she'd have whapped him. But there
was such tenderness in Sarek's voice, as if her question was incredibly stupid.
When
wasn't he sure? When didn't he know his mind? After three weeks—and he
hadn't involved her, which showed just how much Amanda knew about some
things—he probably more than knew what he wanted.
While
Chapel had avoided the hell out of thinking about it whenever possible.
She
gave in and cuddled against him, dozing off on the short ride, only half awake
as they entered her building, took the lift, and she palmed them into her
apartment.
"You
are too tired to talk about this now."
She
was about to protest when she realized he'd led her to the bedroom, was gently
taking her clothes off, folding them neatly, then pulled the covers back. She
got into bed, wondering if he was going to kiss her on the head and read her a
story, too, but he stripped off his clothes and got in next to her.
"Your
wife is home."
"My
wife is heavily sedated and uninterested in discussing this further with
me."
"I
hate this, Sarek. She's taken something innocent and turned it ugly."
"A
possible perspective. But may I offer another?"
She
nodded and curled into him, snaking her arm over his chest.
"She
took something she had no part in creating, something that is strong and good
but threatens her in ways she does not want to admit, and is trying to control
it."
"I
like your version better."
"I
thought that you might." He
kissed the top of her head, letting his lips linger.
"I
want to make love to you. But I'm beat."
"We
will make love in the morning, before you report to work." He didn't
stumble over the words "make love." She loved how easily he said
them.
"I
have two whole days off."
"Then
we will make love for two days. I have nothing scheduled." At her laugh,
he kissed her, a chaste kiss to start with, but she opened her mouth and he
wasn't shy about turning it into a demonstration of how much he wanted her.
And
then he stopped, easing away, finding the best way for them to put legs and
arms—getting comfortable was never easy with a new partner—and she
was out.
When
she woke up, she was alone in bed, but she could hear someone in the kitchen,
and unless Cartwright had sent in a special breakfast-serving service, she was
pretty sure it was Sarek.
"Who's
in my kitchen?" she called out, faking being grumpy.
He
called back, "It is I. Is that a problem?"
"Only
if you can't cook."
"I
am making coffee, not cooking."
"Close
enough." Her kitchen was criminally underused for how nice it was.
"Ah," she said as he carried in two mugs. They'd served on enough
missions that he knew how she liked her coffee, and he'd made it perfectly this
time. "Sweet nectar of the gods."
They
leaned against the headboard, arms pressed against each other just as the first
time, but the moment didn't feel fraught. Not that it was in any way certain
what lay ahead.
"Sarek,
what are we going to do?"
"We
have many options. I will admit that hearing from my wife that my
presence—the very desire I hold for her—is a burden to her...hurt
me."
"I
can't imagine saying that."
"I
have often wondered if at times she has sought oblivion—temporary at any
rate—in the medicines. And she admitted she has."
She
pushed harder against him but wasn't sure what to say.
"You
are insightful, Christine. What do you think?"
"I
think she's made it so that cheating on her will be an altruistic gesture on
her part. I think, for the record, that it's obscene. On the other hand, I...I
love you. So I want to believe that it's win, win, win. That I wouldn't be some
standard mistress, stealing you away from a longsuffering spouse and then
finding myself alone on holidays, sitting by the comm
unit waiting for some window of opportunity to open up so you could dash over
here, fuck me, and leave again." She met his eyes. "Sorry, my
language sucks when I speak plainly."
"I
do not mind."
"After
Roger, I swore I'd never sneak around again. And I haven't. But even if we're open
with her, the rest of the world is not going to get it. I'll be in the shadows.
Loving you from the goddamned shadows."
"Yes.
You you will. As will I have to care for you
discreetly. There will be times, I am sure, where I will want to be with you instead
of her, but will not be able to come."
She
sighed and he put his coffee down, then put hers on the nightstand, and wrapped
his arms around her.
"If
you were anyone else, I'd say no." She was whispering but she knew he
could hear her easily. "But when I'm with you, I feel...whole. I don't let
people in much anymore. Men, especially. Maybe for a night or two, but that's
it. But with you...I want so much more. I want to be with you. Any way that I
can. No matter what it costs." She pulled him down for a kiss.
"Because I know I'm not just your mistress. I'm her successor."
There
it was said, and it was horrible, banking on her death in the somewhat near
future, but it was also true, and there was no point in lying to this man. She
didn't want to start their relationship that way.
But
he was very quiet and she thought maybe the truth had been overstepping.
"Did I misspeak?"
"No.
They were just hard words to hear." He pushed her down. "But also
reassuring. That you love me enough to feel that way. To want to wait to have
all of me."
"I
think it's important to say this, too: what we're on the brink of doing...it's
wrong. At some level, it is. Our friends and family will certainly think so. We
can't delude ourselves into thinking this is the norm. Vulcans bond for life.
They don't have younger, waiting in the wings, mistresses. Do they?"
"Not
as a rule. But it is unlikely I
would be in this situation were I married to a Vulcan." He pushed back her
hair, holding it tightly, as if he could read her better with nothing hiding
her features. "You speak truth, though. I understand. This does us no
credit and yet, I want this."
"I
want this, too." She could feel him hard against her, and she reached
down, making him moan and groan, until she finally crawled on top of him and
rode him until he cried out, clutching her. "Hold still," she said,
as she moved carefully on him, still semi-ready for her, as she found the sweet
spot for herself, and let go.
Sex
without the burning was oh so much better.
He
was watching her, a tick of his lips showing how much he'd enjoyed watching her
come. "You are free. Open. I enjoy it greatly."
She
suddenly wondered if Amanda was a bit of a prude, if she denied him things. But
no—she couldn't make her villain. It was the natural thing to do,
cognitive dissonance at its most powerful. Chapel was screwing over someone she
knew and liked, and her brain couldn't balance that action and the belief that
she was herself a good person. So it would change the parameters. Turn the
person being screwed over into a bad person.
She
couldn't lose sight of the fact that Amanda was the victim here. Of the
disease. Of the bond—and all the psychic linkages it brought that a human
would normally never have to deal with.
She
had to remember that Amanda wasn't the enemy.
No
one was.
Part 3
Chapel
saw that Sarek's meeting was over and hurried to transfer her queue to her
back-up and get to the cafeteria. He'd be gone for a week and she wanted to
spend a little bit of time with him. Lately he'd been on back-to-back missions
and they hadn't been the kind he'd need Emergency Ops there for.
"You're
in a rush," Jan said as Chapel stood. Their terminals were close to each
other now, something Chapel had thought would be good for their friendship and
it had been. It felt like old
times, whispering back and forth, laughing at funny things.
It
also made it easier for Jan to know way too much of her business.
"I
have lunch plans."
"Who
with?" Her tone was innocent, the glint in her eyes wasn't. "Well, at
least I know it's not with the captain since he's somewhere out there."
She gestured in the general direction of up.
"Just
a friend." Her comm unit chimed, a succession of
tones that were Sarek's alone, and she opened the message and saw he'd been
called into another meeting. That he'd see her when he got back in a week.
"A friend who had to cancel." She met Jan's eyes. "You free for
lunch?"
"Wow,
don't I feel special, Chapel.
Geez." But Jan was closing down her queue and transferring it, and
walked in companionable silence with her, but just before they got to the
cafeteria, Jan pulled her out a side door, into the sunshine and the fresh air.
"I know, in the past, I've let things fester and been a rather large
bitch. You've tried and I've tried and we've done well lately. I think,
anyway?" She suddenly sounded tentative.
"We
have. Jan, we have."
Jan
drew her down the hill, to a bench that faced away from Command, meant to enjoy
the view but Chapel knew it was also a spot not very well covered by Starfleet
surveillance.
"Ever
since you were on your impromptu vacation, you've been different. You've
been...I'm not even sure what. Happy, I guess, but then not. Distant sometimes.
Lying. By omission anyway—or at least I think so. But I've never asked
you. I didn't want to be lied to again. Our friendship can't take it."
Chapel
took a deep breath, ready to come up with some twisting of the truth so she
wouldn't have to lie, but Jan put her hand over her mouth and said,
"Don't. I mean it. Don't. I don't want to go back to hating you." She
let go of her.
"It's
not Kirk."
"I
know. It's Sarek. We Rand women have very sensitive noses and his incense is
distinctive. It's probably lovely to fuck to. But he's married. What the hell
are you doing?"
Chapel
just stared at her.
"What?
You think I can't be insightful?"
"I'm
not saying you're right. Okay? I'm not saying that, but if you were right, it
wouldn't be so...straightforward. So...tawdry."
"So
you're not his mistress?"
She
met Jan's eyes and wanted to lie, wanted to say she wasn't. Wanted to make
herself look better. But she was sick of hiding shit from her best friend.
They'd both worked so hard to get back on track and she was not going to let a
man get between them again. She
took a deep breath and swallowed the lie.
When
she didn't answer, Jan smiled gently. "Thank you. For not lying." She
sighed. "This isn't you."
"I
snuck around with Roger."
"Because
he was your boss, not because he was someone else's husband." She frowned.
"He wasn't someone else's husband, was he?"
"No."
She was unsure how much she should say, knowing Sarek would want her to be
discreet. But he wasn't here. And Jan was. Caring. Noticing. "Do you think
anyone else knows?"
"Sweetie,
he's a Vulcan. Hell, he's the Vulcan as far as some folks are concerned. And
everyone knows Vulcans mate for life. Unbreakable psychic bonds. Above
reproach. Moral compasses made of steel. Yadda yadda yadda. They don't know you
like I do. So, no. I don't think anyone else suspects—except maybe his
wife?"
"She
knows."
"You
say that so easily."
"I
don't actually. Because she... This started in a way that really isn't my
fault—or Sarek's. But then, the choice to keep going, she helped make
it."
"Wait.
Are you with both of them."
"Jan,
no, Jesus."
She
held up her hands. "Sorry. It's just...that's the simplest solution,
scarily enough."
"No."
She leaned in. "Promise me. Ops swear. Ny hears none of this. No one hears
any of this."
"Ops
swear."
"She's
sick. No, it's worse—she's dying. Slowly. But the bond doesn't die, as
you said. Everyone fantasizes about the emotion a bond could carry, the desire.
Sounds great, right? But what if you're sick? How would that feel, the
constant...barrage?"
"Oh."
Jan got it quickly, her eyes widening. She always did get things quickly.
"She can't turn it off? No mute button for the bond?"
Chapel
knew she wasn't really joking. The bond was highly misunderstood—and
glamorized. "No. Except, yes, she has pain meds. Strong ones. They...they
act like static. Interfere with the connection."
"He
must feel emotionally stranded when that happens."
Chapel
smiled, grateful at Jan's ability to take complex info and gist it to its most
basic point. It was why she was excelling in Ops. "Exactly."
"So
he has her on her good days and you on her bad days. She, if I understand this
right, has him unless she chooses to escape." At Chapel's nod, she took
her hand and squeezed it gently. "And what, my friend, do you have? Is it
more than cancelled lunch plans and occasional sex?" There was no acid in
her voice, no sarcasm. This was the Jan Chapel remembered from their first
mission. The friend she loved, who loved her, too.
"Some
of the time, yeah. Some of the time, it's really great." She didn't want
to say when those times were. That Amanda had longer and longer periods of
absence. That the farther Sarek was from her physically the less he felt her
even on good days. The missions Chapel went on with him were times that went on
the good side of her "life with Sarek" ledger, no matter how crappy
the actual purpose of the mission.
"So
you're not going to stop seeing him? Even if I told you that you could go for
Kirk instead?"
Chapel
laughed. "You must really be concerned for me if you're willing to let me
have him."
"I
am. This...it's just I know how you love. How much of yourself you throw into
what you want. How long will this work? I get that it's still sort of new but
eventually...?"
"Well,
you'll be here to monitor me." She laughed, feeling safe, feeling
protected. It was a feeling she'd never been sure she'd get back with Jan.
"Actually,
I won't be. It's why I'm talking about this now. Sulu got Excelsior. It's not public knowledge yet. But, he wants me on the
ship and I'm going. He wanted me to see if you'd be interested in CMO.
Christine, come with us. This thing with Sarek won't work long term and you
know it. And you've been in Ops too long. The pace will kill you
eventually."
Chapel
closed her eyes. "It's so nice of Hikaru to want me but...I'm on the short
list for Matt's deputy." Actually Cartwright wanted her and he generally
got whatever he set his mind on, but it sounded better to say the posting was
still being decided. "That's not public knowledge, either."
"That's
a captain's billet." Jan's eyes opened wide. "Wow. Oh, okay. Not much
travelling in that job, then." Again, she found the root problem in a sea
of information. "Your trips with Sarek must be nice—and offer rare
access."
"They
do. I'll miss them. We'll miss them."
She
saw pity in Jan's eyes. Like she wasn't sure how much Sarek would care.
But
it wasn't like that. He loved her.
Just
because every "other woman" probably said that, didn't make it any
less true.
##
The
sun shone in through the filmy curtains, light pooling on the floor near the
bed. Chapel moved so she could feel the sweet breeze better and kissed Sarek's
chest. "How did you manage this?" Alone, on this gorgeous planet, no
work, just them.
"This
was my last opportunity to do so, in all likelihood. Your new role as deputy
will limit our opportunities to travel together." He eased her up so he
could kiss her, his lips demanding, and she laughed as he pushed her to her
back and eased into her.
"You're
insatiable."
"I
have missed you. There is a difference."
"Yes,
there is." It was the difference that kept her sane some days.
Then
she gave up thinking. They'd been together long enough to know what the other
liked, and how they liked it. Not that they didn't try new things—Sarek
seemed to love to come up with interesting positions to try. She didn't know if
he was making things up during boring meetings or if there was a Vulcan Kama Sutra she wasn't aware of.
At
any rate, it kept things interesting—and gave her a reason to hit the gym
just to stay limber enough to keep up with him.
She
didn't know what Amanda was doing or what she thought of this. Generally, Sarek
didn't stay over. Generally, he was the model of the Vulcan ideal spouse. He
was there for his wife when the day was over, working late into the night in
his study in the embassy. Those first few nights he'd spent with Chapel after
the Pon Farr had been an aberration not the norm.
She'd
often wished she'd never had them, because having been with him in such a
normal way made her want more of that. Made the rest of the time difficult.
Like
now might. Lying close like this, bodies sweaty but there was no rush for him
to hit the shower. No need for her to skip over conversational topics since
there wasn't time for them to talk about most things. She had him—really
had him—for an entire day.
And
then...?
"You
are pensive."
"Things
are changing." Jan was gone. Now this. "I love our joint
missions."
He
nodded.
She
forced herself to focus on the good. On this soft bed and his warm skin. On the
way he kissed her, as if he'd never tire of it. Of the sound of surf and birds.
"Thank you for this."
"I
know our situation is not optimal. I care for you. I want you to be
happy."
"Happy.
Such an emotional term." She grinned, showing him she was teasing.
He
didn't respond and seemed unusually serious. "You are human. Emotions are
critical to your well-being. Happiness is critical."
"No
one is happy all the time. Happy moments may be the best we hope for.
Contentment or satisfaction that one is making a difference fills the rest of
the time, if you're lucky."
"Happiness
is no longer a goal for you?" He was studying her carefully.
"I
think I gave it up as a goal after Roger, after I got what I set out to get and
found out it wasn't perfect, that it actually hurt."
He
nodded; she'd told him of Roger's fidelity issues.
"I
think I realized the kind of mindless happiness I'd been seeking was an
unrealistic goal. Love, though. Love isn't." She touched his cheek.
"And I love you so much. It's what gets me through the times I'm not with
you."
"That
you love me? Not that I love you?" His eyebrow went up.
"Weird,
huh. But I think so much of how we feel, how we react, is based on what we
bring to the table. If I didn't think loving you was worth it, if loving you
didn't make me happy, you loving me would be irrelevant."
"Fascinating."
She
laughed. Then she leaned in to kiss him. "Humans have a concept of soul
mates. I'm sure Amanda's talked of it."
"Once
or twice."
"Humans
aspire to that. The twin to our souls. The one with whom we are complete."
He
nodded thoughtfully. "Parted from me and never parted."
She
knew he didn't mean it to hurt, the words he must have said to Amanda, but it
did.
"I
am sorry. That was thoughtless."
"No.
That was just the truth. Is that what the bond is? A mating of souls—do
Vulcans even have souls?"
"Not
as such—we have katras."
She
remembered him using the word when Spock died. "What is a katra?"
"It
is our essence, our knowledge and experiences."
"Emotions?"
"Not
usually." He studied her and seemed perplexed when she grinned.
"What?"
"It's
like a computer, then. Output. Results. Data collected."
He
didn't seem insulted. "Very much so, yes. When a Vulcan experiences
physical death, another Vulcan is there to capture the katra through a meld.
The katra is brought back to Vulcan, and added to the stored knowledge of our
people."
"Like
downloading a data disk." She looked away. "So will you capture
Amanda's katra?"
"I
will try. But it has not been done before. Human death appears to be a
different experience than Vulcan."
"Or
at least the way the biological computer that is our mind experiences death is
different."
"Far
more accurate." He touched her nose with his, an amazingly sweet gesture
he did when he felt particularly close to her. "Your mind, the way you
process information, it...arouses me. And comforts me."
"Is
that an overly wordy—and highly personalized—way of saying I could
be Vulcan?"
He
actually laughed, a short bark that didn't last long but made her chuckle.
"Yes."
"Is
Amanda your soul mate? I mean if Vulcans had soul mates?"
He
didn't answer right away, then met her eyes. "If you had asked me that
only a few years ago, I would have said yes. But now...now I am not sure."
"You
don't have to say that. I know you love me. If it's not as much as you love
her, that's all right. You have years with her, and a child—memories and
history."
"This
goes back, I think, to what you said earlier. What makes this different is not
the way I love you or her. It is how you process the fact that I do love you.
You believe it. I read frustration from you, yes, with our situation, but I
never read doubt. You understand—and trust—the depth of my feelings."
She
nodded.
"I
do not know that Amanda has always trusted them. At times, she doubts."
"Even
with the bond?"
"The
bond is not a panacea. It can make relations worse, not better. We do not read
each other's thoughts. We get...impressions. Emotional resonance. Fear, pain,
happiness, sadness."
"Things
that Vulcans traditionally do not value—given their absence in your death
ritual with the katra." She leaned back and studied the ceiling. "And
things Vulcans are uncomfortable experiencing, right? And sharing. At least
some of the more negative ones. You don't seem stingy with lust or
affection." She looked over at him and he nodded.
She
shook her head. "It's so simple. To appropriately analyze Vulcan emotion
one must do it from a stance of...stoicism. You can't be inside them—or
if you are, you have to be able to separate."
"You
are, at heart, a scientist, Christine. It is your nature to reserve a portion
of yourself to observe."
"Yes."
For some reason, she felt tears welling up. "I'm sad. That makes me sad,
Sarek, and I'm not sure why. And I'm not sure if it's for me or for her."
"I
do not wish you to be sad." He pulled her back to him and kissed her
gently with soft, fleeting touches of his lips on hers, on her cheek, her
throat, and then down. She thought he'd keep going past her chest, but instead
he reached up for the meld points, easing in, opening up in a way he normally
did not.
"I
want you to feel this, not analyze it." She wasn't sure if he'd spoken or
thought the words, he was taking them so deep.
It
was like swimming in body-temperature water, in one of the sensory deprivation
tanks, only here there was more than her own thoughts buffeting her.
Not
just positive emotions. Sadness—he hated that she was taking this new job
even if he was very proud of her accomplishments in attaining it and her new
rank. Guilt, at how he could not give her more, at how he had to betray his
wife to give her anything.
He
was sharing, no filters, and she tried to let him know how much she treasured
his openness. The transparency wouldn't last, couldn't last, but he was giving
her a rare gift and she loved it.
He
let them rise to a less intense meld, and then he made love to her. They called
for room service so they wouldn't have to leave each other until the next day
came and forced them to abandon the fantasy.
But
she had it. The memory of the day. The memory of the meld. The love she felt
whenever she was near him.
She
had it. Some people spent a lifetime searching for it and never found it, not
even with a long-term mate.
It
was a rationalization. But she'd run with it as far as she could.
##
Chapel
felt massively uncomfortable as she made her way through the crowd at the
embassy. Amanda was enjoying a good period health wise and had thrown a party
for Saavik, who was being assigned as first officer to the Manchester. Chapel had been surprised to get an invitation. Sarek
had been equally surprised she'd been included in the guest list.
Not
displeased—or at least she didn't think so. But surprised.
The
invitation had said casual, so she'd slipped on a cotton dress she knew Sarek
liked and then thrown a jacket over it in case casual meant something different
when the Vulcan ambassador's wife wrote the invite.
She'd
put less thought into her first dates with Roger than she did this. It was
ridiculous. Especially since she and Amanda hadn't spoken much since she'd
confronted her at the Pon Farr.
"Christine.
So nice of you to join us." Amanda's voice dripped syrup. She looked good,
if frail, and managed to stand very close to Sarek. She even touched his arm
gently. "Aren't we glad to see her, my husband."
"Indeed."
He shot her what looked like an apology and then nodded toward the side of the
room. "Your former crewmates are here."
"Well,
let me go say hello to them. It's a beautiful evening. Saavik must be so
pleased."
"She's
on the fast track. Our girl." Again she touched Sarek's arm. "I
imagine she'll make lieutenant commander quite soon."
"Rapid
rise."
"Well,
you rose quickly, too, no?" There was something under the words, some
veiled insult, but Chapel chose to ignore it. "Congratulations, by the
way, on your promotion and new position. I imagine you won't travel very often
in this job." Her look was pure innocence, the neutrality of the polite
question for everyone who didn't know the real situation.
Sarek
looked pained, even for a Vulcan. "My wife, we have other guests."
"We
do." She leaned in and pulled Christine down to her in, making her feel
awkward, and Amanda's lips grazed her cheek as she whispered, "I'm not
dead yet, dear. Enjoy the party."
As
she let her go, her expression was the same serene one she always wore, but
Chapel could feel the malice—as if war had been declared.
And
she felt something in her respond to the declaration, make her put her back up
and say, "I will. Thank you," in as sweetly false a voice. She didn't
look at Sarek as he pulled Amanda away.
"I
am unsure why my mother invited you when it is clear she does not like
you." Spock's voice was pitched low, and she realized he was leaning into
her, his chest to her back, as if they were intimate friends.
She
decided to go a route he might not expect. "I was surprised to be invited
as well, Spock. But she's a human woman and we're unpredictable. You should
know that by now."
He
turned her away from her old crewmates, practically dragging her—in a
totally understated way—to a corridor off the main area. "I have
heard that you often travel with my father."
"I
often travel with many people, Spock. It was the nature of my previous
posting."
"But
he asked for you by name. I have been dividing my time between the ship and
diplomatic tasks. I have access to old missions. Who was requested, who was
simply randomly assigned."
"Aren't
you the detective?" She kept her voice even, her face as stoic as a
Vulcan.
"I
do not know if you are aware, but my mother was your champion for years. She
wanted me to consider you as a romantic partner."
"That
was kind of her."
His
face changed; she thought she saw pure anger. "And yet you betray
her."
"You
have no idea what is going on, Spock. I admire your mother. I know how much she
and your father care for each other. I would never hurt her."
"That
is a lie."
"Sometimes
an observer can see details in an experiment without understanding the overall
landscape. They can make assumptions that are not valid. I would ask you not to
do that in this case."
"But
you admit that there is an experiment."
"I
admit nothing."
His
lips actually ticked up. "His influence on you is clear. I almost feel as
if I am debating him."
She
thought he'd chosen the word "feel" on purpose.
"Feel
this." She put her hand on his wrist, where his robe didn't cover the
skin, and waited.
He
met her eyes, confusion clear in his. She swallowed hard, and knew that one
thing he'd be reading was some measure of regret that lingered that she'd
chosen this path and not the one he'd offered so long ago.
"The
experiment is very complicated, Spock. Please do not assume I am the
enemy."
She
thought he would jerk away from her hand, but he didn't. Confusion was replaced
with...pity? He felt sorry for her?
He
eased away and said, "I will let you talk to our friends. Be sure to
introduce yourself to Saavik. Good evening, Christine." All was gently
said, but she had the feeling he couldn't wait to get away from her—and
the utter mess of emotions she'd laid on him.
She
saw him glance at his parents, and move away, toward Saavik, whose eyes lit up
as she saw him.
Uncomplicated,
the feelings Chapel saw on the younger woman's face. Admiration, regard, ease.
She loved Spock, and from the look of it, he loved her back in some fashion.
She
saw Sarek glance over at her. The way he dipped his head was a clear question:
"Are you all right? Did he upset you?"
She
smiled, trying to make it a genuine expression, and turned to go say hello to
her friends.
##
Chapel
realized someone was standing at her door, studying her, and looked up to see
Kirk. "Hello."
"Hello,
Captain."
It
felt so strange coming from him. "I know. I know. I didn't earn it. But
thanks."
He
frowned as he came in and sat down. "Plenty of Fleeters
make the rank without ever having captained a ship. You work here, doing this
hellacious job. Meaning people like me never have to. So thank you. I'd give
you two promotions if I could." He grinned in a way that told her she
meant it. "Don't ever say that again. Starfleet promoted you. Enjoy
it."
"They
also promoted Styles to admiral."
"Yes,
but they took his ship away and gave it to Sulu. And assigned Styles to run a
backwater Starbase where he'll probably be till he retires. You, my dear, are
sitting in the heart of Command. Many people know your name. Not that there
aren't many who know his, but yours they know in a good way."
She
laughed. "Okay, okay, geez. And thanks. I will never say I didn't earn it
again."
"Good."
"So
what's the occasion, Jim?" It was still so strange to use his name, to
think of him as a friend and not just the captain who'd been so good to her.
"Well,
it's strange. Spock thought I should take you out to celebrate your
promotion."
"Spock
thought that?"
"Yeah."
"You
mean like a bunch of you taking me out?"
"Nope.
Just me. You didn't happen to tell him you're madly in love with me while you
were having your little heart-to-heart at Saavik's party, did you? Because
that's not what it looked like to me. But earlier today he spent a good portion
of our breakfast conversation pointing out how you are—and I'm not sure
why it took him to make me realize this—exactly my type. And I'm yours.
Sort of." He looked embarrassed at the last bit, as if he was assuming too
much.
"Are
you asking me out?"
"Maybe."
He leaned back. "But I also want to know why, after all these years, he
suddenly thinks I should."
"I
have no idea." But she did, of course. Did Spock think he was saving
her—or was he protecting his mother? Or did he think he was doing both:
win, win. Win, win, win if his friend also found happiness in the process.
"We're
heading back out tomorrow night."
"Oh.
Did you mean tonight?"
He
started to laugh. "You know, Chapel, I used to think I was good at this.
But wow, I'm certainly not living up to my rep, am I? Yeah, I meant tonight,
which I know is very short notice, so just tell me you're busy and we'll do it
another night." He seemed to be studying her. "Or you can forget I
ever asked."
"Can
we have steak?"
"We
can have steak in Buenos Aires, if you want. I'm a man with many credits."
"Im
on call," she said, laughing at his grin, his openness, and the idea of
being out in public with someone who wanted her company. "So I have to
stay in the city."
"Martino's,
then? They're very hard to get into and have amazing beef."
"Perfect.
I get off around seven usually."
"I'll
pick you up at seven forty-five."
"Shouldn't
you see if they have a table for us first?"
"Oh,
ye of little faith." His grin was infectious as he pulled out his comm unit. "Bennie, buon giorno, my friend. I have a lady I'd like to impress. What
are the odds for tonight? Say, eight or so." He stuck his tongue out at
her. "You can? Oh, you're my hero. I may happen to have some of those Dixren cigars you like so much. You bet. Thanks." He
cut the connection. "I wish we'd had a bet on that. Would have been like
taking candy from a baby. Wear something you can dance in."
"Oh,
we're dancing, are we?"
He
stood up and shrugged. At the door, he turned and said, "Play your cards
right, toots. You never know."
She
pretended to throw something at him. He pretended to duck and mouthed,
"Missed me."
Then
he was gone.
She
actually left work a little earlier than seven and took her time getting ready,
nice make-up, pretty hair, fancy dress. Shoes that were comfortable enough to
dance in but still looked nice.
All
things she never bothered with for Sarek anymore. He came, he undressed her,
they screwed and then lay around in bed talking, maybe called out for dinner,
and he left.
Jim
rang the door on time and whistled as she gave a little spin. "The lady
cleans up oh so nicely."
"So
does the gentleman."
He
took her arm and led her down to a waiting flitter. The ride to the restaurant
was short, they got drinks at the bar, talked easily as they waited for their
table, and she enjoyed the hell out of being a carnivore with no judgment from
her partner.
The
tables were placed around a dance floor that was empty, but a band filed in and
started to set up. How long had it been since she danced? She realized Kirk was
studying her. "What?"
"What's
wrong?"
"What
do you mean what's wrong? I'm with a handsome man, I've had an amazing meal,
and I'm going to dance soon, right?"
"In
all the years I've known Spock, he's pushed a woman on me exactly once. I got
the feeling you were in some kind of trouble."
"I
just got promoted."
"In
your personal life, Chris."
"I
don't have a personal life, Jim. Why do you think I'm having so much fun with
you?" She realized that could be taken as an insult, like there was such a
low bar anyone would do. "Let me rephrase that."
He
laughed. "Yes. Please."
"I
work. I go home. I go to work. I go home. You see a pattern?" It wasn't a
lie. She was just leaving out that sometimes Sarek was at her apartment.
Besides, having sex didn't equal having a social life. "Ny's with you, Jan's with Sulu, and I'm apparently really
shitty at making new friends. The kind you spend time with outside of an Ops
happy hour, anyway. I have lots of those kinds of friends."
"This
doesn't add up. I mean okay, what you say squares with what I hear from Matt.
But Spock usually—"
"Spock
was probably afraid I was desperate enough to go after him again." She
stood. "I'm going to go powder my nose. Please find a new theme by the time
I get back, okay?"
"Okay."
He didn't look any more convinced than before, but she had the feeling he'd
drop it.
For
now.
The
band was playing by the time she got back, and he led her out to the dance
floor. It took a moment for them to find their rhythm—it really had been
ages since she'd danced—but they did eventually, and then it was just
nice. And simple. Music, two people, floating across the dance floor, his skin
on hers, his lips on her neck.
She
didn't move and was afraid to look at him because she'd want to kiss
him—or let him kiss her. He eased away and asked softly, "Did I
overstep?"
"No.
But for now, can we just dance?" She didn't want the moment to end, didn't
want to go back to her apartment.
"Yes,
we can." He let them dance in
silence for a bit, then said, "Chris, I know you're not all right. You can
tell me anything, okay?"
She
was surprised Spock hadn't told him. But maybe he was counting on Jim's sweet
concern being the jolt she needed to get the hell out of his parents' life.
Concern that was all the more effective for being intuitive rather than
pre-briefed.
"Just
dance, Jim." She moved closer and he sighed but let it go.
On
the ride back to her apartment, he held her hand. He let the flitter go at her
apartment, and at her look said, "It's a nice night. I'll walk back to
Command."
She
should have let him do just that but instead murmured, "Nightcap?"
"Okay."
He took her hand and led her into the building. In the lift, he was quiet, and
followed her to her door. Once inside, he went immediately to the balcony and
just stood.
"Hell
of a view, isn't it? Even for someone who prefers the starstream
at warp out his windows."
"It's
gorgeous." He pulled her to him. "I really like you. We've known each
other for years, circled around, never got here."
She
nodded.
"I
like it here."
"I
do, too."
He
leaned in slowly, and she knew he was taking his time so she could stop him. So
she could move away and not let his lips touch down on hers, not open her mouth
to his, not moan as he let his hands roam.
Sarek
had never kissed her on this balcony. It wasn't terribly private. Someone might
see. Discretion and all that.
Kirk
pulled away. Then he frowned and wiped away a tear she didn't realize she'd
shed. "Who is he?"
"I
can't. Jim, I can't."
He
let her go and moved into the living room. She followed him, shutting the door,
locking the beautiful night away.
"Here's
my problem, Chris. If I think too hard about this, there's only one man that
Spock would actively try to keep you away from. If it's that man, then this
isn't a good road you're on, and he's right: you're in trouble. More
importantly, you deserve better."
"I
can't talk about this." Her voice was barely a whisper. "I trust you.
I do. I wish I could tell you everything. But I can't." She saw him react,
as if he thought she was being forced. "Not can't—I won't. I choose
not to. I don't want to. I love him." There, it was out. No names, no
details, but she loved someone else and had gone out with him anyway.
He
moved closer and took her by the shoulders. "You don't have to tell me.
But if you ever need my help, you know where I am."
She
nodded and pulled him into a hug, holding onto him almost frantically. "I
wish..." So many things to wish. So many goddamn things. And she would
tell him none of them.
He
waited, then he let her go. "I wish, too." With a sad smile, he left
her alone.
##
She
lay half under Sarek, feeling a little—owned. He'd been fierce, pounding
her in a way that wasn't normal.
"I'm
not sure I like this new you." She tried to squirm free, but he leaned
harder on her. "What's with the he-man routine?" No way it was the Pon Farr again.
"Can
I not take you as I wish?"
"Not
if it makes me feel like you're just doing to me what you can't do to Amanda
any longer. I like to feel primary, not proxy—at least for the moments
we're in bed."
"Primary.
Is that why you were with another man?"
"With?"
"My
son told me of your evening with Kirk."
"He
did, did he? You and Spock never talk and suddenly he's telling you about my
evening with his friend? Oh for God's sake, Sarek, he's figured out we're
together. And he doesn't like it. This is...this is interference. Nothing
more."
"So
you are saying he was lying? You were not with Kirk?"
"I
was. But it was nothing. It was just dinner."
"And
dancing afterward, is that not so?"
Jesus,
Spock sure was a gabber; she wondered how Jim had felt about getting the third
degree. Or had Spock followed them? Had he watched to see if his big plan would
work?
Could
this get any more fucked up?
"Did
you dance with him, Christine? It is a simple question."
"I
did. It was innocent. I like to dance and so does he. You don't. You don't
dance with me even when we're here alone."
"Vulcans
do not dance."
"I
know. I'm fine with it. But I was with him and we were having fun and there was
dancing. So fucking what?"
"Dancing
is a prelude to sex."
"Is
that Spock talking or you?" She wrenched herself free and scurried out of
the bed, not willing to have this conversation from beneath him. "And I'm
sorry but do you or do you not sleep with another woman every fucking night? Do
you eat with her and travel with her and do, well, every little thing you want
to with her? It was one fucking meal. And some dancing. Get over it. I have the
right to have a social life if you can't give me one."
"Did
he kiss you?"
"Do
you kiss her?"
For
the first time, she saw pure rage on Sarek's face. "So that is a
yes?"
"Gosh,
it's too bad we're not bonded. Then
you'd just know." She stood, shaking with anger she'd held in for too
long. She wanted to say more; she wanted to unload, but it suddenly occurred to
her that Amanda would be feeling his rage—and would know it was at her.
That if she hurt him, Amanda would know that, too.
Did
nothing between her and Sarek belong just to them? Did his wife have to be
privy to every goddamn thing?
"I
think you should go." She backed up until she felt the wall at her back
and slid, sitting naked on the floor with her knees drawn up, her arms clasped
around them. "Just go."
He
seemed to realize how shaken she was. "Christine." He was out of bed
and to her quickly, kneeling next to her, pulling her to him. "I am
sorry."
"He
did kiss me. I didn't kiss him back, not the way I would have if I wasn't in
love with you. He knew my heart wasn't in it. He backed off because he's a good
man. I just let him go." She met his eyes. "He'd be there for me.
He'd find a way to get me on his ship, I know he would. We'd have a life, not
just stolen moments. Why did I let him go?" She tried to hold back the
tears; they were useless. This was what it was.
He
pulled her closer, until she was on his lap, legs wrapped around him, and he
held her as she cried. "Perhaps you should find him, tell him the
truth—or some portion of it. See if...see if he is what you want."
She
could tell it cost him to say it; there was no meld but she felt his pain
nevertheless. "I don't want him. I want you."
They
sat that way for a long time; she wasn't sure he'd ever held her more tightly.
He finally pushed her up, made her get into bed, and pulled the covers over her
gently. He stared down at her, his look open and hurting. "I wish that I
could give you up."
A
nod was the only answer she could give him—what more was there to say?
She didn't want to leave him and he didn't want to let her go.
He
leaned down and kissed her, tenderly, possessively, his hands roaming in a way
that said, "Mine, mine, mine."
Then
he walked away and once she heard the door close, she turned on her side and
cried herself to sleep.
##
The
sun beat down on her and she heard Jan laughing at something Sulu was doing.
Then they both came running to the towels, dripping water all over her.
"I'm
gonna get us some refills," he said and hopped
up and headed toward the bar.
Jan
was watching him go in an entirely different way than she ever had before.
"Janice
Rand, are you with him?"
A
grin was her only answer.
"Is
that why you included me on this oh so nice weekend at the beach? So I could witness true happiness?"
She mock slugged her.
"No.
I mean yes, I'm with Hikaru, but no, that's not why you're here." Jan's
smile faded. "I ran into a certain captain we both know. He said you were
missing me. Are you and he...?" She sounded hopeful, not mad.
Chapel
just shook her head. "Spock tried to set us up."
"I
think that's going to be a really long story that requires way more alcohol
than Hikaru will be carrying back here."
Chapel
laughed, feeling herself relax: Jan knew. She knew and she liked her anyway.
Jan
studied her. "Are you still
with...?"
Chapel
nodded.
"Gotta tell ya. I don't get the
whole Vulcan thing when you could have James T. Kirk." She rolled her eyes
and made the "you're crazy" finger-whirl.
Chapel
laughed again. "I guess that's why Ny commed the
other night and made plans for the next time the Enterprise is back. He must have told her the same thing. He's worried about me."
"I'm
worried about you. You don't seem happy anymore, Christine. Not even a
little."
"It's
bad right now. I won't lie. I mean even the hottest relationship cools off over
time. But you replace that with other things you share. This situation isn't
conducive to shared things."
"Which
is an excellent reason to get out of it."
She
nodded, but slipped on her sunglasses so Jan couldn't see her eyes.
"Okay,
enough of that. I brought you with us to have some fun, Chapel."
"Didn't
Sulu wonder why I was coming along?"
"Nope.
He understands how important friends are. Besides, he still wants you on the
ship." She winked. "I'm surprised he hasn't tried to recruit you
yet."'
"Thank
you for caring."
"All
part of being a friend." Jan laughed and handed her the sunblock.
"Now you can repay me. Do my back. I never can reach."
"I'm
surprised your boy didn't do it for you."
"He
was going to, but he got distracted." Jan shot her an innocent look, then
busted up laughing. "God, I'm so happy with him I'm giddy."
"I'm
thrilled for you, Jan. I really am. One of us needs to be giddy."
"I'm
happy to volunteer." She gently pulled the sunglasses from Chapel's face.
"And don't hide your feelings. You know I hate that."
##
Chapel
was hurrying to get home. Sarek was going to try to stop by and shed been held
up by a last minute personnel crisis—real crises she could deal, with but
two people who couldnt put their beefs aside long enough to deal with an
emergency were a waste of her time. She'd spent the last hour writing up the
disciplinary reports for the two officers and one of them—if not
both—were getting transferred out of Ops as soon as she had a moment to
spare for reassignments. In the meantime, shed told their team leads to make
sure they werent scheduled on the same shifts.
The
problem with Ops, with the pace and the constant need to be "on" or
other people might die, was that normally competent officers didn't always
thrive in the environment. Stupid, petty shit like this happened as stress
increased. That said, it didn't surprise her that both officers had been
suggested acquisitions. Meaning neither had been picked up on their own
merits but had someone in the brass pulling for them.
She
hated that. She could say No if she really felt strongly but the amount of
goodwill shed lose was often not worth it. Her ability to take no prisoners—and
speak her mind to whomever she wanted to—required a solid base of
admirals who had her back. That required compromise sometimes.
And
compromise led to crap like this.
Captain
Chapel. A womans voice. Not one she recognized. She turned and saw a young
Vulcan woman standing with Spock. Lieutenant Valeris, maam.
She
expected a glare from Spock, but he merely nodded and said, Valeris, the
captain is clearly in a hurry. We should be going.
Nonsense,
Spock. Valeris moved closer. Admiral Cartwright speaks highly of you.
This
girl knew Matthew? What did she want? A commendation? Thats nice.
I
mean, he considers you a kindred intellect. She seemed to be waiting for
something.
And
I consider him a mentor. Whats your point, Lieutenant? Damn it all. She was
going to miss Sarek at this rate. How long would he wait in her apartment?
Amanda was more and more demanding of his time.
She
glanced at Spock. Why had he brought this woman to her?
He
made a gesture that conveyed he was as mystified as she at Valeris's interest
in her.
Spock
was right, lieutenant. I'm on my way out."
Valeris
back away, a puzzled look on her face, as if she'd made some kind of mistake.
"I apologize for keeping you. Please, have a pleasant evening." She
turned and walked away.
"Nice
girl. Little intense.
"She
is normally quite adept with humans." He met Chapel's gaze frankly.
"I can imagine why you are hurrying."
"I'm
sure you can. I don't care."
His
lips tightened.
"I
know you tried. I know you care." Although possibly not about her, but she
was trying to get him to go, so a fight didn't seem the best route. "It
means the world. Now, let me by."
He
moved aside without another word.
Once
she was outside, she commed Sarek, hoping he was
still at her place.
Where
are you? He sounded impatient enough that she knew his time would be short
again.
On
my way. Just...just dont go before I get there. Okay? God, she was so sick of
always rushing to see him and then never getting enough time. Just once shed
like to go to dinner or hell, have a pizza delivered and shoot the shit with no
constraint on their time together.
She
wanted to go to bed with him and wake up to morning sex and breakfast and the
knowledge that he was hers.
She
took a deep breath. She couldn't let Spock rattle her. This was what it was. It
was up to her to enjoy the time she had with Sarek. No matter how short.
She
hailed a flitter and told it to hurry, which was stupid. They maintained a
speed appropriate to the conditions and amount of traffic. She couldnt make
the elevator in her building go any faster, either. And by the time she hit her
floor, she was peeved enough that she took her time.
And
this was the other thing that happened. She wanted to see him so badly that
sometimes she was a bitch when she finally did. She stopped and took a few
seconds to breathe deeply and employ the relaxation techniques she'd been
taught when she'd first joined Ops.
They
sort of worked.
Sarek
was on the balcony when she walked in. It was a beautiful night; shed barely
noticed in her rush to get home.
He
looked up and his expression changed to a tender one. He held his hand out and
she took it, and he pulled her to him, holding her in a way that anyone watching
would be able to see was way more than collegial.
"We're
not really in private." But she cuddled into him, holding tightly,
relishing the feeling of his lips on her neck. Then discretion overruled
neediness, and she eased away, pulling him back into the apartment and closing
the door and blinds.
I
cannot stay long, he murmured as he followed her into the bedroom.
When
can you? she wanted to say, but didnt.
##
Chapel
felt like she was playing hooky from school. It was four in the afternoon and
she'd left Ops early and was in her favorite wine shop, looking for something
special for tonight.
How
many times did a girl turn fifty? And Sarek was coming over. He'd cleared his
schedule for her.
Earlier,
the team in Ops had brought in cake with black icing and served a nearly black
dessert wine someone had picked up on a mission and known would be perfect for
the occasion.
It
made her feel special. That they cared.
She
turned down a corner, looking at the sparkling wines, when she heard, "May
I help you find something?"
It
was the clerk she liked best. Perfect. "Andrew, hello. I need something
really nice. It's my fiftieth birthday and I'm celebrating with someone
special."
"Ah,
well, let's see what we can find." He grinned at her and started making
suggestions. "So, is this a romantic someone special?"
"Yes."
"Vixen."
He winked at her as he handed her a bottle. "I suggest this one. It's
often overlooked but the taste is sublime."
"Perfect."
"And
we have the Vermouth you like back in."
"This
day couldn't be better." She headed to the aisle where the fortified wines
were.
And
ran right into Amanda, who was standing very straight, wearing a smile that had
to be fake. "Fiftieth? That's a special one. A milestone one."
She
could feel herself bristling but forced herself to smile. She hadn't missed
that Amanda was not wishing her happy birthday.
"How
are you feeling?" she said.
Amanda's
expression changed, the pretend smile fading. "Not terribly well but I've
had worse days. Does that make you feel good, dear? Reminding me that I'm sick
and you're not?"
"I
was just asking how you were." Or not. Why pretend anymore? Why pretend
that they liked each other?
Maybe
once they did. But now, this woman's husband stood between them both.
"I'll
let you shop," Chapel said and turned away, walking briskly to the
counter, making small talk with Andrew but not talking about her evening, not
now that Amanda could hear every word.
When
she turned to go, Amanda was gone.
She
felt regret; she hated that things were ugly now. She hated most everything
about being with Sarek except actually being with Sarek.
But
tonight was her night and she'd get him for a while and they'd celebrate the
hell out of her turning fifty—or at least she would—and everything
would be okay. Amanda had him the rest of the time.
She
walked home leisurely, picking up flowers from a vendor, stopping to get some
of Sarek's favorite cheese.
She
took a long bath, and spent time on her hair and make-up. A new dress he'd
never seen finished her preparations. It was a lovely wine color and flattered
without trying too hard.
And
then she waited.
And
waited.
And
waited.
The
more she paced, the angrier she got. When Sarek finally palmed himself in, she
turned and stared at him.
I
am sorry. Amanda need—
Amanda
knows its my fucking birthday. So tell me, what could she possibly have
needed? I saw her in the wine shop today. Its a good period. Shes walking,
talking—picking fights.
He
closed his eyes and nodded. He looked immeasurably weary—and angry, too.
But not at her, she could tell. But did it matter? It was her fucking birthday
and this was what she was getting: recriminations and anger and another night
where she'd be watching the clock, triaging things she wanted to tell him by
criticality—what could wait, what needed to be said.
"You
look beautiful," he said, clearly trying to get them to safer ground. Ever
the fucking diplomat.
"I
should. I took off early. I primped and everything. I should look like a
goddamn beauty queen. And then I waited. For three fucking hours."
He
took a deep breath.
Chapel
imagined the satisfaction Amanda must be feeling if any of Sarek's emotions
were leaking through the bond.
She
wanted to keep you away. She set this whole fucking affair up and now she wants
to keep you away.
"She
is jealous. It is a natural human reaction."
"Oh,
so she gets cut slack? What about me? I'm human, too, Sarek. I have emotions
too, or have you goddamn forgotten?" She moved closer to him, and he
actually took a step back, which just made her madder. "You know, I'd
forgotten how much I hate this. The hiding. The waiting—with no recourse
this time unlike when I could at least comm Roger and
pretend there was an issue in the lab."
"I
agree it's not optimal."
"Stop
saying that. Like we're a machine not performing to its highest potential.
We're not machines. We're people and we feel and at this point, I'm just
reacting. Your wife is calling the goddamn shots in this." This was light
years worse than hiding the relationship had been with Roger. Mistresses
werent allowed to call. Were expected to just sit and wait.
But
for how long? For fucking ever? Until a woman she used to like and admire
finally died?
She
was living her life waiting for someone to die.
I
cant do this, she said into the silence. She turned to look at Sarek and saw
no hint of surprise. I love you—more than I have every loved
anyone—but I cant do this anymore.
He
nodded as he took a step toward her.
There
are positions far away. Not on ships, where well cross paths. But on worlds
that dont need diplomatic assistance. I could to go back to helping people. Be
a doctor. Stop living this life. She waved her hand around the apartment,
trying to let him know she meant more than just him: she meant Ops and the
hours and the interminable crises and the deaths and having to live with
nothing but uncertainty.
She
took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
He
held his arms open and she went in, not crying—what was the use? How many
times would she cry over him?
He
took a deep breath as he held her tightly. She knows that I love you. I cannot
hide it from her.
But
you love her, too. She has to know that.
I
believe how I feel about you matters far more to her at this stage than how I
feel about her." He stroked her hair with exquisite tenderness, as if he
was doing it for the last time. I will support whatever you choose. But I
will...miss you greatly if you go.
Ill
miss you, too. She lifted her face to his and was rewarded with a sweeter kiss
than she thought hed ever given her. Im sorry.
Do
not be. I realize this situation is untenable. That it has endured as long as
it has is a testament to you. He reached into the pocket of his robe and
pulled out a small box. Happy birthday.
She
started to laugh—somewhat hysterically—and dialed it back before
she completely lost it. Vulcans dont celebrate birthdays.
Vulcans
involved with humans tend to. His eyes were gentle. Also, it is more than
just a birthday gift. It is, if you want it to be, a promise.
She
opened the box. A gorgeous ring. Nothing ostentatious. Just a band, but carved
in a way that made it sparkle as if it was loaded with diamonds. Are you
asking me to wait for you?
No.
Do whatever you wish. Be with whomever you wish. But, if you want me to, I will
come for you once this can be more than a promise. He sounded as if he was not
sure she would want that.
Yes,
she whispered. No human would have heard her, but Sarek took the ring from her
and slid it onto her finger.
It
was a perfect fit.
When
will you leave? he asked, and emotion seemed to make his voice crack.
Not
tonight. Not for a while. There are things to arrange. Im not fleeing, Sarek.
I want to leave for a good posting, not just the first one that will get me out
of here. She wasn't going to end up with another Danube ever again.
Understood.
He seemed unsure whether to stay or go. He was so unflappable normally, it
touched her deeply to see him so off balance.
She
took his hand and pulled him with her into the bedroom. As she eased his robe
off, she said, We have time. To say proper goodbyes. Many of them, even.
I
am grateful for that.
She
thought he would take her hard, the way he did when he wanted to claim her. But
he was tender and gentle—and expressive. So many things he told her, so
many things to hold onto.
He
was a master diplomat—he would know what she wanted to hear. He would
know what might keep her waiting.
Even
if all of it was true—and she believed it was—she knew that. He
would play her to the end to keep her.
But
she didn't care. It was nice hearing him so open, so free with how he would
feel once she was gone.
She
knew he wouldn't take another lover. Somewhere, deep in her soul, she knew
that.
He
turned the lights off and pulled the covers over them.
Dont
you have to go? she whispered, not wanting to ask but also not wanting to wake
up and find him gone.
Yes,
but I do not care. You are leaving me.
He
woke her when the sun began to come up. She was late reporting for duty. So was
he.
He
spent every night with her as she made plans to transition out, was with her
when she located a promising billet on a lovely world far from Earth—and
Vulcan. A medical center, but not a medical billet—she'd be running the
place.
He
seemed very proud of her, told her so frequently, as he lay in her bed, his
breath tickling her ear.
She
thought he was defying Amanda to spend so much time with her—although he
was still discreet. They stayed in, and she tried not to think of her apartment
as a prison, especially not with him in it with her. She loved that he was
willing to risk something—even if it was just his wife's good will—to
be with her.
She
let herself enjoy having so much of him—even if the reason behind this
sudden access was a sad one.
She
didnt say goodbye to Amanda before she shipped out. What would have been the
point? The woman had won.
For
now.
Part 4
The
medical center on Dalutia was busier than she'd
expected. She'd thought that leaving Ops would be an adjustment. That she'd
have to get used to a much slower—possibly boring—pace. But the
center was a hub for newly developed tech and procedures, and it served as the
trauma unit for a large portion of the quadrant. She spent her first week just
trying to learn the acronyms used by the staff—like any place, the center
had its own lingo.
She
spent her second catching up on all the things she'd fallen behind on when she
was learning the lingo.
She
spent the third week observing in each of the departments. It was amazing to
feel the thrill that came from helping people. Not that Ops didn't
help—it was the place's raison d'etre, after
all—but the assistance was on a larger scale. This was about individuals.
These were the stories that touched people's hearts, that non-profits used to
garner more funding for further research into bigger and brighter tech to make
more stirring stories of healing.
In
her fourth week, during a lunch wolfed down at her desk between meetings, Sarek
commed.
She
could have ignored the call—probably should have—but she picked it
up.
His
face filled her terminal, and she couldn't hold back a smile she knew was
luminous. She'd missed him. So much.
But
she'd also left him. "You do realize this is counter to the 'I can't do
this anymore' concept, right?"
He
actually frowned. "I cannot comm you?"
"Of
course you can. If it's important. But I don't want to trade never seeing you
except for sex to never seeing you except for on a terminal."
He
nodded, his mouth tight.
"Sarek,
cut me some slack here. I'm trying to make a life. I miss you, but
this"—she pointed to his face on her terminal—"only makes
not having you worse."
His
jaw eased and his look changed to one of satisfaction. She realized he was
staring at her hand. "You wear my ring."
"It's
beautiful. Of course I wear it."
"You
did not wear a ring before."
"You're
familiar with the concept of a ring avulsion, yes? Jewelry and emergencies
rarely go well together."
He
shook his head. "Even after. When you were not travelling. You wore no
rings." His look dared her to find a counter for that.
"Fine.
I'm wearing your ring." She leaned in. "Are you all right?"
"I
miss you."
She
smiled gently. "I'm sorry." She traced his face on the screen.
"I really am serious. You can't be calling me just to shoot the
shit."
"I
have lost more than a sexual partner with your absence, Christine. I have lost
a very dear friend."
It
was sweet of him to couch it in such human terms. It was also possibly very
manipulative because he knew she'd respond to it. "I'm sorry for that. But
that's not my worry. You get that, right?"
At
the look of annoyance that flashed across his face, she knew he'd been trying
to reel her back in using whatever means necessary. "You are resolved to
remain separate?"
"Yes.
That was the whole point of moving very far away. You were fine with it."
"I
was not fine with it. I was
attempting to behave in a mature way."
"And
I appreciate that. So keep doing it. I haven't abandoned you. But I can't live
like we were and keep my sanity. You expect me to wait for you; I expect you to
give me space while I do."
"I
dont expect anything of you. You are a free agent." Something in his face
changed and she realized he was fishing.
"I
am a free agent. Thank you for realizing that." She'd be damned if she was
going to explain her social life—or lack thereof—to him.
Not
that she hadn't been invited to many dinners from her staff. But so far no one
had hit her up for a date, which was fine with her.
She
leaned in. "I love you, Sarek. If you need me, I'm here. But don't do a
casual call again. Got it?"
He
clearly did not like having terms dictated to him, but he nodded. He cut the
connection without saying he loved her.
She
didn't hold it against him. She'd outplayed the master diplomat. It was bound
to sting.
##
She
expected to see Len at the medical conference on Starbase Seventeen; she didn't
expect to see Kirk. His smile was wary, his eyes not so warm as last time, and
his hug was quick, as if he had to embrace her but would have preferred not to.
"You
a doctor now, Jim?" She used his name almost to spite him; she wasn't sure
why he was being so distant.
"No.
Morrow wanted to see me and we were both close to this starbase.
He's retiring." He said it more to Len than her. Then he met her eyes.
"Matt's taking his place."
"Wow.
I know he wanted the job, but he didn't think he'd ever get it."
"Well,
he did." He held up his glass. "To absent friends."
"Especially
absent friends who show up at medical conferences that would otherwise have
been boring," Len said, clinking his bourbon against her wineglass. He
downed the drink and said, "Listen, I hate to deprive you two of my
company for even a moment, but the moderator for tomorrow's panel wants to meet
with me. I'll be back in a jiffy. Don't give my seat away." He slid off
his barstool and hurried out.
"So,"
Kirk said, swirling his scotch in the glass, not looking at her. "You
left."
"I
left Ops. Yes."
"And
I guess you left other things."
"Other
things did not come to Dalutia with me, ergo..."
He
nodded but didn't say anything and she could tell he realized she really hadn't
answered his question. The empty barstool between them seemed like a chasm.
"Did
I do something? Other than not be as interested as you would have liked?"
It was harsh, but he was pissing her off with his suddenly hands-off approach.
"Funny."
He laughed, the fake laugh he'd used on her whenever he was trying to get out
of a physical. Then his expression turned grim. "Spock just found out his
mother is very sick—dying, in fact. Apparently it's a condition she's had
for some time and managed to hide it from him." He held her eyes, his like
lasers. "But you knew, didn't you? You're a doctor, after all."
She
could feel a contrariness rising in her, but also hurt. Why was he attacking
her? "Sarek told me. I didn't figure it out on my own." But she might
have. If she'd been given to spending quality time alone with Amanda prior to
becoming close to Sarek.
"That
changes the story even more, then, doesn't it?"
She
didn't answer. What did he want her to say?
"You
know"—he leaned in—"I used to think T'Pring was so
strategic it was terrifying. But you...you may have her beat."
"That's
not fair, Jim. T'Pring used you and I never did." She could see he was
surprised she knew what had happened. The holy trinity had shut her out of
that, but did he really think Sarek wouldn't have told her what went
on—why her captain had come back seemingly dead, why Spock had been so
happy to see he wasn't? "What happened—it wasn't something I planned
or Sarek planned."
She
wanted to tell him if anyone planned what had happened, it was the paragon of
virtue he was so intent on defending. But she didn't say that because this was
none of his fucking business. "It just happened." She took a long sip
of her wine and didn't look away from him, daring him to make her the villain
even more, daring him to pay her back for...for what? Not fucking him? On the
first goddamn date?
He
looked at her hand, at the ring she wore—Sarek's ring. Sarek's promise.
"That looks Vulcan."
"It
was a birthday gift."
He
just shook his head. "Are you waiting for her to die? To clear the way?
Are you already engaged?"
"Wrong
hand."
"That's
not an answer."
"Maybe."
"Maybe?"
He laughed, the sound one of disbelief. "What? Unless something better
comes along?"
"Well,
isn't that how love works? How life does? We take or we wait, and yes, we see
what else comes along." Even if she was shutting down anyone who wanted to
get too close. Was that bad? She knew what she wanted. She was willing to wait
for it. "Why? Did you want to give seducing me another try?" She
loaded as much disdain as she could into her voice.
He
threw back the scotch and slid off the barstool. "Tell Bones I had a
headache."
She
reached out, suddenly sorry. "Jim, please, don't hate me."
"I
don't hate you, Chris. I just...I just wish I didn't know who you really
are."
He
turned and walked away.
She
was debating whether to stay or not when Len came back. "Where's
Jim?"
"Headache."
"Hmmm."
"You
have something to say about that?" Her tone was slightly hysterical.
He
didn't seem to notice. "He hardly ever gets headaches. Must've seen a
woman he wanted to talk to." He grinned. "More time for us to catch
up. So, how's Dalutia? Your med center got the best
ranking in the quadrant for trauma, did you know that?"
"I
did know that, Len. We're trying to raise the rating even higher. We've got
some amazing new tech coming on line."
"Oooh, I love it when you talk medical. Go on."
She
laughed, suddenly very grateful for his easy way with her after so long not
seeing each other. "I love you," she said.
"I
love you, too, 'hon. But if a spontaneous declaration of affection is your way
of keeping medical breakthroughs on the hush hush,
it's not going to distract me. I've heard about a regenerator process being
tested in your radiation unit that makes the one we use now look like it was
developed in the Stone Age. So spill."
It
wasn't really a secret, so she told him all about it. Glad to not have to hold
back. Glad to not have to lie.
Glad
to spend time with a friend who didn't know all her tawdry little secrets.
##
She
watched as the Khitomer Peace Conference footage played out again on the med
center screens.
You
know them? Nurse Carter asked, her tone full of worship.
I do. Not surprised they're saving the
day again. She watched Kirk, Spock, Len, and that Vulcan girl, Valeris, who'd
looked at her with such recognition—had she thought Matt had recruited
Chapel, too?
But
Chapel forgot about Valeris and her former shipmates when she saw Sarek,
standing alone, and she could feel her heart beat faster.
She
played with his ring as she watched him. She told anyone who asked about it
that it was a sentimental favorite. It was sparkly enough that it might be a
cocktail band, not one that meant she was taken.
Since
she wasnt. Not as far as anyone here knew.
Once
she got back to her apartment, she replayed the footage over and over, watching
him, even though he barely moved, laughing at his almost grudging applause for
his son and Kirk. Remembering what it felt like to be touched by him.
Sorry
that she'd had to tell him to stop calling her. He'd taken her at her word and
hadn't called in the many months since.
She
missed talking to him, his gentle wit, the tender way he looked at her—and
the not so tender ways, too. But she'd been right to make him stop. She'd never
have been able to move on—or at least find a sort of happiness
here—if she was still thinking of him as present in her life.
Her
chime went off and she jumped. Shit. Shed forgotten shed said shed go to a
barbeque with one of her section chiefs.
She
opened the door and saw Gus standing there, older than she but still handsome.
His smile warm and open and very human. He was a civilian, technically part of
her team but he reported to the civilian chief of staff so there was little
conflict spending time with him outside of work.
Hello
there, he said, his voice gentle and full of humor.
Hello.
She moved to let him in.
Tell
me you didn't forget Landas shindig tonight? He
grinned in his no harm, no foul, but go get ready way. He wouldn't smile in
quite the same way when they parted in the morning. Sex with him was fun, and
shed been clear with him that she wasnt looking for anything serious. That
shed just extricated herself from something heavy. No details, of course.
But
still he seemed to think he could change her mind about that. Could make her
love him. Make her want to settle down.
I
did forget. Sorry—got all caught up in this. She turned off the vid player.
Pretty
wild, huh? He nodded toward the now blank screen. Traitors in Starfleet
working with Klingons and Romulans.
One
of them was my boss. The perfect way to explain her fixation. And my former
shipmates stopped him. And yet another way.
You
travelled in interesting circles. This place must seem so dull.
Quiet
doesnt have to equal dull. Even if, in this case, it sometimes did now that
she was comfortable in her job. Let me go get ready. Ill just be a second.
He
didnt call her on how a second was inaccurate or overly optimistic the way
Sarek would have. He just nodded and headed for her chiller. She had his
favorite beer stocked. That, at least, she could give him.
##
Chapel
sat staring at the headline that ran over every news outlet. "Captain Kirk
dead saving new Enterprise."
She
hadn't seen him since the coverage of Khitomer, hadn't interacted with him
since the medical conference.
A
string of comms came into her personal unit: from
Jan, Ny, Len.
Not
from Spock. Not surprising.
Not
from Sarek, either. He probably was wondering, though, if he should comm her, if he should make sure she was all right, now
that the closest thing he'd ever had to a rival was dead.
She
worked through the afternoon, then headed to her favorite bar.
The
bartender nodded a welcome. "Your usual, Christine?"
"Do
you have Balvenie?"
"I
do."
"Make
it a double. Neat."
"You
got it." He followed her gaze to the vid screen where the headline about
Kirk's death was now a small ticker running under the main reporting. "You
served with him?"
"Yep."
She took the glass from him. "To heroes."
"Salud."
She
took a bigger sip than she meant to and was immediately reminded why she didn't
drink scotch that often. Although the burn felt good, like penance of some
sort.
Gus
found her when she was well into her second drink. "So. Kirk. Was that his
poison?"
"No,
I was." She started to laugh—in a mean way that meant she was
probably a little too drunk—and reached into her pocket for some antitox, but there wasn't any. She didn't drink anymore the
way she had at Ops and had fallen out of the habit of always carrying it with
her. Oh well, she had plenty at home and flitters were easy to get.
"Was
he the reason you couldn't commit?"
"Oh,
so you think I can now?" She laughed, a half amused, half mocking sound
and he looked hurt. "I wasn't with him. He didn't even like me at the
end."
Gus
looked like he didn't like her very much at the moment, either.
"Then
why did he give you this?" He grabbed her hand and tried to pull the ring
off her finger.
"Jesus,
Gus, stop it. He didn't give me this."
"Don't
lie to me."
She
stared at him. "I'm not. He didn't give it to me." She knew her
expression was deadly serious.
"But
someone did. Just tell me what happened to make you so gun shy?"
"Gun
shy?" Again the laugh that seemed to shred him—and she didn't care.
"Oh my God, what is it with you men? A woman doesn't want you and it's all
her fault. It's never you. It's never that you're boring."
"You're
drunk."
"What's
that famous saying? Oh yeah, I'll be sober in the morning but I bet you won't
be any more exciting."
He
held up his hands, his face taking on the reasonable expression she knew was
his way of avoiding any kind of confrontation. "Let's just stop right now.
I'm going to chalk this up to grief and too much of whatever that is you're
drinking"
"Scotch.
Single malt."
"Yeah,
let's not order that again, okay?"
He
made it their problem. Like they'd ordered the drink together. It was his
passive-aggressive way of taking control. She wanted to laugh at him again, but
it didn't seem worth it.
Did
he really think he could manipulate her after she'd been involved with Sarek?
And been at the mercy of his goddamned wife?
"I
love you. I'm sorry you're hurting." Gus hurried away, probably so he
wouldn't have to hear her avoid saying she loved him back. Or maybe he didn't
want her to finally say it and have it be a lie, something said while she was
compromised by loss or by booze.
He
didn't need to worry because she wasn't going to say it. He had no idea how
much liquor she could hold before she said things she didn't mean.
##
She
was sitting across from Gus in one of his favorite restaurants. She wasn't sure
why he was still with her, especially after the way she'd treated him in the
bar, months ago now and he'd never mentioned it since. She hadn't even had to
say she was sorry—not that she actually was.
She
was nothing but bad for him, and still he came back.
She
supposed Jan might say it was just like her with Sarek. Only Sarek loved her.
She'd felt it in the meld—had never had to just take his word for it as
she would a human male. He might be using her, but he also had plans for them.
"Do
you know what you're going to get?" Gus always asked it, even though she
ordered the same thing every time. And he'd roll her eyes like she was the
boring one.
Could
she help it if she knew what she liked? Was it possible she was missing out on
something wonderful? Yes. But it was equally likely she'd get the new dish, not
like it, and spend the rest of the meal thinking how she should have ordered
what she wanted in the first place.
Jan
would probably say this was also like her relationship with Sarek. Except that
Chapel had always been this way, happily sticking with the tried and true.
Which
is probably why she was still letting Gus into her bed. Easier than finding
someone she'd like less. Or someone she'd like more—possibly enough that
she might actually contemplate taking Sarek's ring off.
She
hated to think she was capable of using a man the way she was Gus. But shed
been clear. Nothing serious meant just that. If he wanted more—after all
this time—then that was on him.
He
ordered and seemed to be really upset when they were out of one of the
specials. He pouted and made her go first as he pretended to peruse the rather
small menu.
She
ordered then rolled her eyes at the server when he still didnt seem to know
what he wanted. She immediately felt disloyal, but then the womans grin was so
infectious it made her laugh, and Gus stared at her like shed stabbed him.
Oh,
for Gods sake, hell have the Lorisan burger. Rare.
No onions, extra pickles. She waved the poor woman away. What's your problem?
Thats
not what I wanted.
They
were out of what you wanted. You order the burger all the time. If you're
really upset, go catch her and change it to something else. But make up your
damn mind.
Thats
rich. Coming from you.
She
didn't think making up her mind was a problem. Not doing what he wanted her to
do was the problem, which would actually involve changing her mind. But she'd
had a long day and didn't feel like a fight, so she didn't correct him.
You
know what you remind me of, Christine?
God
only knows. She made a pleading face. It was a crappy day, Gus. Dont make it
crappier.
Right,
because this is all on me. The fact that your average Vulcan is more
emotionally available than you has nothing to do with it. He sat back and
stared out the window, seeming as if hed let it go, but then he turned back to
her. I've been patient. I've been more than patient.
Had
he, though? Because this was an old argument and she was fucking sick of it.
"You
know what—I'm not doing this." She waved the server over and said,
"I have to go. Is it too late to cancel my order?"
"No.
I'll take care of it." She was gone before Gus could say anything.
"You're
the coldest woman I've ever met."
"Yeah.
I got that with the Vulcan comment."
"Then
do something about it."
"Oh,
you mean change. You mean love you." The hurt in his face only made her
madder. "Why do you stay? If I'm so fucking deficient? Why don't you grow
a spine and leave?"
"Because
I love you."
"And
I will never, ever love you." She pushed her chair back and got up.
"We're
done, Christine."
"No
shit."
##
Christine?
That voice. The one she heard in her dreams.
She
turned around slowly, trying to bite back a smile but failing. Sarek stood in
the doorway to her office, in a robe that was wrinkled enough she thought hed
been travelling for a while.
To
her assistant, he probably looked like the quintessential Vulcan despite the
wrinkles. To her—she saw hope in his face. Hope and so much more.
You
found me. She beckoned him in, then hit the switch that would close the door.
I
will always find you, he said, his voice harsh.
Does
that mean—is she...?
He
nodded.
Im
sorry. And she was.
And
she wasn't.
So
many feelings, but hope was winning. Hope and just a small sense of triumph. I
know losing her isn't a small or easy thing. Have you finished mourning?
She
could see approval in his expression—approval and affection and
impatience. I have.
This
will not dishonor her—or us?
It
will not.
Her
door suddenly opened and she heard her assistant say, "Doctor, she's with
someone."
She
and Sarek were doing nothing wrong, weren't even standing close, but Gus stared
at them like he'd caught them in bed naked.
"Doctor,
did you want something?" She let the coldness he hated permeate every
word.
"I
sent you my resignation. I have a new position on Earth. I'll be leaving
immediately."
"Fine."
Gus
walked over to Sarek. "I know who you are."
"I
am afraid you have me at a disadvantage." The human sentiment came out so
glibly. She imagined Sarek could phrase niceties in many ways—part of his
job.
"Oh,
I think you may have had the advantage all along." He turned and left,
apparently finally realizing there was nothing he could say.
The
door closed behind her and Sarek moved closer. "It would seem you were not
alone."
"No,
but he was." She wondered if he'd get it, all the ways she meant that.
He
nodded. "I did not expect you to abstain."
She
started to laugh. "But you hoped I would."
He
pulled her to him, his fingers finding the meld points as he kissed her. She
could feel him ransacking her memories of Gus and she let him.
His
jealousy felt good. The heat of the emotion, the beating heart of his desire,
how much he missed her: all were like food for her soul.
She
could tell he was looking for more. If she still loved him—if she still
wanted him.
"Computer,
lock door," she managed to get out as she pushed him back to the couch and
followed him down, kneeling over him, pulling up his robe and pushing down her
uniform pants even as he deepened the meld.
And
then...there. For a moment, she couldn't breathe, and everything he was feeling
was buffeting her along with her own emotions, held so close for so long, now
finally free.
He
put his hand over her mouth as she came, amusement clear but she also felt his
care for her, that he not compromise her reputation.
Not
because they had to hide, though. This was just simple discretion.
He
came loudly, too—or would have if he hadn't buried his face in her
uniform top.
"I
was not sure you would feel the same way about me."
She
kissed him as tenderly as she could. "Silly man."
##
They
lay in bed later that night, and she laughed as he pushed her to her back
again. Someone had a lot of desire to work out. She didn't mind.
He
thrust hard, not even trying to hold back the "Mine, mine, mine" that
accompanied his movement.
She
was his. After all this time she was fully his. Why should he try?
He
found the meld points and pushed into her mind, and his climax rocketed through
her, and then he was still, easing off her to lie close but not on her, the
meld still there, his love for her echoing strongly.
She
felt him taking the meld deeper, deeper than he'd ever gone. She moaned,
enjoying the intimacy, but then felt the snap of...permanence, and grabbed his
hand. "Whoa, whoa, whoa."
He
stopped, but didn't like that he had to—she could feel that through the
meld.
"Sarek,
back away from the 'bond' button."
She
could feel his confusion through her entire being, but he slowly let the meld
fade.
"You
do not wish to bond? But you...waited. Did you not?"
"I
did."
"Yet
you do not wish to make this permanent?"
She
stroked his hair back and laughed softly at the frustration in his eyes. "My
darling, you are almost certainly the love of my life. Yes, I do want to make
this permanent. But...eventually. You and I—what we had—it was
powerful and lovely and amazing, but it wasn't real. It was always constrained
by your marriage, by our schedules, by everything that kept us apart. Time was
valuable—the most precious thing we had—so we almost certainly
chose to swallow things that might have bothered us about the relationship or
each other."
"Logical.
But my feelings are real. They have not changed."
"Nor
have mine. But we don't even know if we're compatible for long periods. Having
sex is not the same thing as having a relationship." She kissed his slight
frown away. "I'm pretty sure we are compatible, if that makes you feel
better." She let the "you big baby" stay implied, but she was
pretty sure he got it.
And,
as she expected, he rallied. "So I must work for you. Woo you?"
She
shrugged. "If that's how you want to interpret giving us time, I'm not
going to complain. Are you upset that you have to wait?"
He
smiled—a miniscule expression compared to a human, but a smile
nonetheless. "Not at all. Any good negotiator knows that things attained
after much effort are more highly valued."
She
murmured, "That's my smart boy," as she kissed her way down to thank
him in a way she knew he would love.
##
"So,"
Jan said as she handed Chapel a glass of champagne. "Big changes."
Chapel
looked around the room at Starfleet Command, at the friends still left from the
Enterprise—Scotty was the
latest to be taken, lost with all hands on the Jenolan—here to celebrate her retirement. "I feel like I
should say a prayer that I'm getting out alive."
"I
was referring more to your plus one." Jan winked at her. "Things
good?"
Chapel
beamed—she couldn't seem to wipe the stupid smile off her face these
days. "Things are very good."
"So
are you going to just follow him around the way...she did?" Jan never seemed to know how to refer to
Amanda.
"No,
I'll be working with him. The way I used to when I was in Ops. Only now I can
be seen going into his bedroom."
"And
you'll be diplomatic." Jan put the Ops spin on the word, making diplomacy
sound like an STD. "That'll be weird."
"Yes,
out of all the stuff happening, that'll be the weirdest." She laughed at
Jan's expression. "I know he and I work well together. We always have. But
living together...that's been interesting."
Interesting,
but not something they couldn't deal with. There were things she did that drove
Sarek crazy and vice versa. But at the end of the day, he went to bed with her
and woke up with her and they could be seen together, any time, any place.
"I'm
happy for you. I know I wasn't his biggest fan, but I'm glad you got the
dream."
"Me,
too."
She
saw that Spock was standing with Saavik, staring at her in a way that was
somewhere between hostile and resigned.
"You're
going to be his stepmother. I'm laughing really hard on the inside." Jan
held up her glass. "To love despite the weirdness."
Chapel
returned the toast, then walked over to Spock and Saavik. Saavik was polite,
but distant. Spock on the other hand, seemed content to stay when Saavik went
to talk to Ny, even though he hadn't said a single word to her.
"We're
going to have to talk eventually, Spock."
"I
am aware of that, Christine."
"I
want you to know I never set out for this to happen. I didn't see a road and
follow it."
"It
found you?"
"More
or less, yeah." She pitched her voice even lower. "Thank you for
trying—sending Jim my way."
"I
did not do it for you, Christine." His voice held a world of disapproval.
"Okay,
sorry." She watched as Saavik and Ny talked with great animation.
"You care for her?"
"My
relationship with her is my concern."
"I'm
just trying to find a safe topic."
"There
may not be any. You will marry my father. I know I must...interact with you,
but I do not have to enjoy it. Or seek to extend the time any more than is
necessary." He nodded in a way that if anyone else did it, would be
respectful but in this case came out mocking.
"Don't
make this hard for him, Spock."
"I
think you mean for you. My interactions with my father have always been fraught
with negativity." He seemed to be studying her. "I do not see your
presence changing that in any positive way."
"Fine.
Be an asshole." She said it with a sweet smile; if anyone glanced their
way, they would see two people seemingly having a nice conversation.
He
leaned in, the way a friend would to share a confidence. "My mother was
everything to him. No matter what is between you and what will be, she will
always be first in his heart."
"Maybe
so." Chapel didn't want to debate that. Amanda had borne Sarek a son, had
been his constant companion for decades, had died and been mourned.
But
she wasn't here now and that was all that mattered. Chapel resisted saying so
to Spock, however. Instead, as Spock turned to go, she said, "I admired
her, Spock. Nothing that happened changed that." Which was true. She'd
found out you could admire and hate someone at the same time.
In
fact, it was easy.
##
It
had been a successful mission. Chapel had contributed more than she'd expected,
which pleased her. She'd known she'd be of some help to Sarek but hadn't known
how much he would let her in, how much he would rely on her.
He
let her in all the way—or as far as security imperatives allowed.
And
now they sat on her apartment balcony enjoying the view and eating things
they'd picked up together after walking around the city together—just
because they could.
He
took the last strawberry and held it out for her. She shook her head and he
popped it into his mouth, clearly enjoying the fruit.
"We're
compatible."
He
actually mumbled "Mmm hmmm" as he reached
for a piece of cheese. Then he froze, hand stilled over the cheese plate.
"What did you say?"
"Something
wrong with your hearing? I said, we're compatible." She laughed as he
turned to look at her. "Com-pat-i-ble."
"You
wish to...?" He was surprised. In a good way. She'd managed to surprise
him.
"I
do." Although she was glad they'd waited; bonding when he'd first wanted
to would definitely have been too soon.
He
began to pick up dishes and stood. "We will take these in for later. We
will probably not want to leave this place for some time."
She
grabbed the wine bottle, her glass, and his bottle of water and followed him
into the bedroom.
He
put everything on the dresser, then relieved her of the bottles and glass, and
pulled her to the bed.
She
stopped him, drawing him to her, stroking his hair and rubbing against him as
she said, "I love you. So much."
"And
I you. My wife." There was so much emotion loaded into one word. He
touched the ring on her hand. "The promise is fulfilled."
"Well,
technically we need to get married for it to count."
"The
wedding will be but a formality. The bond will unite us."
"It
will make me yours?"
"And
I yours." He kissed her, a heady mix of passion and tenderness filling the
touch of his lips on hers.
She
pulled off his robe and let him disrobe her quickly. Then he drew her down to
the bed, to cuddle against him, and he put his leg over hers, the move so
possessive she laughed and said, "I'm not going to run away."
"One
can never be too careful." His eyes gleamed with humor as he found the
meld points, as he went slowly but unrelentingly deeper and deeper.
She
started to feel dizzy but his body pressed so tightly against hers kept her
grounded.
"Breathe,"
he said gently, stopping his progress for a moment. Then he started the slide
down and down and—
She
felt as if she was split open. It was the best orgasm she'd ever had and they
weren't even having sex.
Then
she could feel him, reacting the same way to the closeness. She felt as if she
might pass out from pleasure and heard his murmured, "Breathe,"
again.
She
wasn't sure how long they stayed like that. As it started to fade, she sensed
no surprise from him. This was normal, then. The intensity would not be like
that all the time, which was probably a good thing or she'd forget to eat or
drink or bathe or possibly ever get up again from this bed.
Other
things began to supplant the pleasure he'd given her. His love for her was like
a blanket on a cold day—comforting and all-encompassing. His respect for
her, his affection. So many things.
She
could feel him reading her and he was pleased.
"It
will not always this be this strong. Explore while you can."
She
let herself drift, not sure what she was experiencing, sometimes happiness,
other times not, but all his—for her. Open to her. Holding nothing back.
They
came up slowly, as their minds became distinct, more opaque, and he moved over
her and made love to her while they could still feel each other's sensations so
keenly.
When
she looked at the chrono, she was shocked to see that
hours had passed in what felt like an instant. "Food. Please." Her
mouth was so dry she could barely get the words out.
He
got up and brought their food over, then handed her the water bottle, letting
her drink first before also taking a long drink.
"We're
bonded," she said, running her fingernail down his arm, shivering as she
felt the faintest echo of the feeling even with no meld in place.
"We
are. It has been my deepest wish."
"Thank
you for waiting."
"I
would have waited much longer, Christine. For you." He touched the band on
her finger. "This wedding we must have—a simple affair or a lavish
one?"
"Simple.
Private."
He
nodded and she knew it was what he wanted, too, not that he was humoring her.
"We will have a reception at the embassy. I wish to...show you off."
"You
do know how to tell a girl what she wants to hear."
"It
is no hardship to please you. To speak to you in terms perhaps more human than
Vulcan. In private, at any rate."
He
looked around her bedroom—and she laughed because they had once again
destroyed the bed, covers kicked everywhere. "We should keep this place
once you move into the embassy. For when we wish to be truly alone."
"Good
idea." She suddenly loved the tiny space more than anything. Before it had
been their prison, now it could be their retreat.
Their
playground.
And their sanctuary.
She
had never felt more content. She sent a silent apology to the people she'd
hurt: Amanda, Gus, even Jim.
She
didn't want to think of them mad at her.
Not
now, when everything was perfect.
Epilogue:
Chapel
fought for breath and tried to block out the feeling of Sarek in her mind. His
time was soon, his need increasing every hour.
She
was old. She was too old and too weak to do this again. She hadn't been sure she'd recover from
the last time.
Christine?
Her caregiver, Perrin, moved quickly into the room, her moves graceful in a way
Chapel had only ever hoped to be. She picked up the hypo and held it to
Chapels neck.
Ah,
so blissful the emptiness that filled her. She could feel a moment of Sareks
frustration at being cut off from her by the meds and then nothing.
Is
there anything I can do? Perrin took her hand.
So
pretty, so warm, so...willing and earnest. Chapel smiled at her. Youre a
comfort, my dear.
I
try to be. I dont know if Ive ever said thank you for taking me in. For
giving me all of this. She motioned around the room, but Chapel knew she meant
Vulcan, not just the house. The girl thrived here. She loved everything about
Vulcan.
Including
its greatest son. Chapel closed her eyes for a moment as Perrin stroked her
hair back. Shed never regretted hiring the girl, even if she suspected Perrin
was more interested in getting close to Sarek than Chapel. She took excellent
care of her no matter what her motivation.
I
need to leave Vulcan for a while, she said softly.
All
right. Ill get our bags ready. Where are we going?
No,
my dear. Not we. She saw the confusion on Perrins face—she always
accompanied Chapel when she travelled. I need to ask something of you.
Anything.
Dont
tell Sarek Im leaving.
The
girls expression changed and Chapel knew immediately where her loyalty lay.
But I can't lie to him—he's...Sarek.
Yes.
And I know youve noticed hes been acting a bit erratic.
Perrin
looked down—no doubt she didnt want to say anything that might be taken
as critical.
I
also know you study all things Vulcans. Language, food,
culture—biological imperatives.
Perrin
turned a charming shade of red.
For
a moment, Chapel imagined Amanda standing behind the girl. Laughing at them
both.
I'll
speak plainly, Perrin. I'm too weak to withstand the burning. Sarek will have
options here: all Vulcan males do. But only once Im out of reach. If I tell
you where Im going, he could read that from a meld and find me. I don't think
I'll survive the encounter.
But
you dont know for sure. To just leave him when he needs you...
Chapel
closed her eyes. Fine, if this girl wanted to only think of Sarek, let the cost
be framed in ways that would matter to her more than Chapels possible death
obviously did. If he were to hurt me—or God forbid, kill me—during
the Pon Farr, he would never forgive himself. He
would—well, I dont know what he might do. Do you understand?
Perrin
nodded, wide eyed and a bit frantic.
You
will help me leave. You will find someone to go with me. And then you will tell
my husband what has transpired once I am safely gone. Do you understand?
Perrin
nodded. By the shine in her eyes, Chapel didnt think it would take much to
push her from admirer of Sarek to lover.
Sarek
would be drawn to her devotion. Especially once his bondmate
had abandoned him.
Again.
Now you understand, Chapel imagined Amanda
saying.
Yes,
now she understood.
Chapel
ceded Vulcan—and the love of her life—to her nurse the next day.
She thought it made it worse that the surrender was a temporary one. Somehow it
would be easier if she were never going to see either of them again.
She
could feel Sareks need battering at her and asked her temporary caregiver for
some meds. Her husband disappeared from her awareness with a hiss of a hypo.
When
she woke later, she clenched her fists and rode out what she was
feeling—what Amanda must have been feeling, too—as her husband gave
himself to another.
She
didnt cry until she was safely in her hotel suite on Luna.
FIN