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)
2015 by Djinn. This story is Rated R.
Acting Out
by
Djinn
Her:
You
see him in the rec lounge. The great captain in charge of his silver lady once
again. A ship you helped refit—sickbay, anyway. He had no part of those
refits, but here he is. He looks across the lounge, sees you, and for a moment
his happy patter with Len and Spock is stifled.
You
loved him. Oh hell, be honest. You still love him. You told him you loved him,
damn it all, before you shipped out—kissed him, murmured it, and left. If
he said it back, you didnÕt hear him, but it didnÕt bother you because you felt
it. He was yours. He made you happy.
Or
he did before he showed up on the ship that was supposed to be DeckerÕs. Before
he stole the ship and demoted you without talking to you about it first.
Before
he dumped you. Because of his fucking, goddamn rule. ÒNot in the nest, Chris. You
know that.Ó
You
pushed back. You gave him logical arguments that would have made Spock proud. You
could have given Jim a thousand reasons how it could work with both of you on
the ship.
You
honestly thought youÕd get farther than Jan had. Because he was sleeping with
you. Because you were dumb enough to think he loved you.
And
youÕre used to getting your way. ThatÕs the hell of it. YouÕve never met
something you couldnÕt bend, fix, cajole, intoxicate, or just bullshit your way
out of or into. Even Spock succumbed eventually. It took the Platonians to give him a great big kironide-induced
nudge, but he fell. The two of you didnÕt turn out to be terribly compatible,
but you spent a few weeks getting each other out of your systems. You ended up
friends, which is what you do when you end a relationship—no need to burn
bridges that may reappear in the future.
And
truth to tell while you might have been tired of each other as lovers, you and
Spock found that you were all right as colleagues. Sex turned into a respectful
distance and occasional meals shared in the mess, talking about science or your
plans for med school. Or his far more drastic plans to change his life. You
actually knew he was going to Gol. You didnÕt want
anything from him anymore, so you were safe to tell.
He
even asked you to carry a message padd to Jim—that was how Spock let him
know. ItÕs how you and Jim started. Mutual pain, Jim thought. Although he
thought yours was unrequited pain—and a cruel blow by Spock to make you
carry the news. He never knew you were with Spock. You two were discreet and
your captain was otherwise engaged.
You
didnÕt think Spock was being cruel at all. HeÕd given you the greatest gift. Or
so it seemed when you thought Jim was yours.
You
were an idiot. A Òwe can make it together on your ship if you want us toÓ
idiot.
Jim
told you to shut up when you tried to spin him solutions. He told you he didnÕt
love you. The hell of it is: you arenÕt sure if he was lying or not. Now that
you look back, were you so bewitched by what you had with him that you never
stopped to ask yourself what he really had with you?
You
wish he was lying, that he does love you. Only...what kind of man does that? But
you love him and the idea of enduring this unrequited passion makes you feel
sick inside. Being with him was fantastic. You were sure it was more than just
sex.
But
heÕs told you it wasnÕt. HeÕs made it clear the discussion is closed.
And
yet here he stands in the rec lounge, losing his place in his conversation just
at the sight of you.
Or
maybe itÕs because youÕre practically draped over Lieutenant Freeman. A
handsome man. Very tall. Can eat all he wants and never gain weight. And young.
Everything that should make Jim nuts.
Freeman
has been pursuing you since he reported for duty just before VÕger. He doesnÕt mind that youÕre older. He doesnÕt mind
that youÕve made it clear youÕre not looking for love. He doesnÕt even mind
that youÕve told him you donÕt plan to be exclusive.
He
just wants to fuck you.
And
youÕre going to let him. You stare over at Jim, keeping your eyes as hard as
you can.
He
suddenly says something to Spock and Len and is headed your way. ÒDoctor,Ó he
says, once heÕs within range, then he turns to Freeman. ÒAnd I donÕt believe weÕve
met yet.Ó
Freeman
looks like he has been singled out by God. ÒSir, itÕs an honor to serve with
you.Ó
ÒThank
you, Lieutenant. Do you have a name?Ó
ÒFreeman,
sir. Lieutenant Richard Freeman. I work in security.Ó
ÒWell,
I look forward to getting to know you.Ó Jim turns a bland eye on you. ÒHaving a
good time, Christine?Ó
He
calls you Chris normally. You hate it when he calls you Christine now, even if
everyone else does on the ship. But heÕs doing it to try to push you away.
ÒI
am, sir.Ó You try to not let your expression show how annoyed and hurt you are
by this attention of his.
ÒJust
donÕt have too much fun. You know Doctor McCoy calls you Typhoid Christine now.Ó
Jim shoots Freeman a smile that is somewhere between amused and appalled.
You
can feel your face turn red. Unfortunately what heÕs saying is technically true,
if not quite the way heÕs spinning it. You were back on Earth after VÕger, trying to work off the Òhe loves me notÓ blues with
a very willing friend from medical school.
A
friend whoÕd been exposed to Irissian Fever. A friend
who was still contagious.
There
was a crew picnic, mostly lower decks but youÕre only a lieutenant despite your
rank, so you went and you took your friend. The two of you had fun all while
unknowingly infecting a lot of people. Len came up with that stupid nickname
when it was all over.
If
youÕd beamed up to the ship during leave, the transporters would have noted the
fever. But you stayed away because you didnÕt want to be around Jim. And a lot
of the other lower decks crew stayed away, too, because why risk being tagged
for work when you were supposed to be on leave?
Jim
knows the whole story—you were there when Len explained, kindly leaving
out the Typhoid Christine moniker that time. But he must have told him in
private, and now JimÕs making it sound so much worse.
ÒThatÕs
not what—Ó
JimÕs
apparently not in the mood to let you finish. ÒIf I were you, son, IÕd hightail
it while you can. SheÕs a piece of work, our Chris is.Ó Suddenly he sounds a
lot less insulting—despite his words—and a lot more possessive. The
way heÕs said ÒourÓ makes it very clear he means Òmy.Ó
Freeman
excuses himself and finds younger, prettier company.
ÒAre
you kidding me?Ó You take JimÕs arm and pull him to a corner of the rec lounge.
ÒYou donÕt want me, remember? You donÕt love me. So where do you get off doing
that?Ó
ÒHeÕs
new. He doesnÕt need to be a pawn in your revenge games.Ó
ÒSeventy-five
percent of the goddamn crew is new. By that reasoning, IÕll be very bored.Ó
ÒThereÕs
always Chekov.Ó He smiles in a way that immediately angers you; he knows you
find Chekov unappealing.
ÒTransfer
me off.Ó
ÒI
just may. If I do, itÕll be with reason.Ó
ÒUnlike
my fucking demotion.Ó You take his drink from his hand and down the single malt
in one swallow. It burns like hell but you donÕt care—maybe itÕll scorch
this man out of your heart.
ÒCaptainÕs
privilege to pick his own CMO.Ó
ÒSo
is messing with my personal life, I guess.Ó Even if heÕs right that this is
revenge—you donÕt like Freeman, not really.
ÒGo
for someone who wonÕt be hurt by the fallout.Ó He takes his glass back, turns,
and leaves you alone.
You
are thoroughly sick of being alone.
Him:
YouÕre
an idiot, interfering in ChrisÕs love life that way. Especially when youÕve
told her you donÕt want her, that you never loved her.
ItÕs
a lie, and you think she knows it, but sometimes you see such hurt and doubt in
her eyes that you want to wrap her up in your arms and ask her to list the many
ways she thinks this can work for the two of you.
But
you donÕt. Nogura wasnÕt happy with you for finagling the ship. He couldnÕt say
no, on account of you being a hero, the savior of Earth and who knew how many
other planets. But heÕs made it clear heÕs watching you. That any hint of
impropriety or unnecessary risk with the ship will get you pulled off the Enterprise so fast itÕll make your head
spin.
You
hate to admit it, but youÕre afraid of what youÕll become without the ship—you
were bad enough on Earth, when you knew the Enterprise
was out of reach, but now that you have her back you think it would kill
you to lose her again. You love Chris. Have fallen deeply, stupidly in love. But
Nogura is also a Ònot in the nestÓ type of officer. He will not be a kind superior
if he finds out youÕre with her.
But
you canÕt bear to send her away. SheÕs asked for a transfer three times and youÕve
said no three different ways.
The
first: ÒSurely you can let this go, Doctor, and act like the consummate
professional I know you are. Deputy CMO on the flagship is nothing to sneeze
at.Ó She stared at you like you were some previously unknown fungus and walked
out.
The
second: ÒPut your personal feelings aside for once, Chris, and make a decision
that does not center around your heart or your gonads.Ó She nearly decked you
for that one.
The
third: ÒGrow the fuck up.Ó Said with as much disdain as you could pack into
your voice. Her eyes teared up, but they were angry
tears—enraged tears. Not sadness—sheÕs never let you see that. Although
you have a feeling sheÕs cried over you.
YouÕve
had plenty of sleepless nights thinking about her.
You
love her. Sadly, that fact is irrelevant.
YouÕve
been waiting for her to turn to Spock, know itÕs only a matter of time. You
havenÕt told Spock you were seeing her, and with his post-VÕger
emotionalism, heÕs taken to watching Chris as she moves around the mess, or the
lounge, or a landing party. And he gave her the padd that leveled what was left
of your life. ÒDear Jim, now that you have lost your ship and Leonard has
retired, let me take away the last thing you can count on.Ó Which isnÕt really
what it said, but it was what it felt like.
And
why the hell did he give it to her?
So
far, she hasnÕt appeared interested in Spock and you wonder if itÕs because she
knows sheÕll hurt you the most that way and isnÕt willing to go that far or if
sheÕs saving him for later. The final move on this bitter romantic chessboard.
The
Chris you knew on Earth was tender and sweet. Passionate, yes, but under the
fire and sass, there was the nurse you remembered. Caring for you in ways you
hadnÕt realized had been lacking.
You
miss that Chris. You havenÕt seen her in evidence since you told her the two of
you were through.
SheÕs
angry as hell. And Freeman clearly wanted to screw her in the worst way. You
should have stayed out of it. You should have let them go off and get as
physical as they wanted. And it was a low blow to use the Irissian
Fever incident against her—that wasnÕt her fault.
You
couldnÕt stop interfering, though. Even though you wonÕt let yourself have her,
you canÕt get the idea of her out of your mind—or stop the raging jealousy
that comes whenever sheÕs with another man.
When
you get tired of it, when it gets to be too much, you close your eyes and feel for
the vibration of your ship under your feet. You hear the sounds that mean the
ship is running her best. You smell the slight staleness of recycled air and
are happy.
You
canÕt give this up. You wonÕt give this up. Not even for Chris. Not even for
the person who might be the love of your life.
Her:
YouÕre
walking behind Jim and eating his dust quite literally. This planet is a
shithole, and you regret that heÕs finally including you on a landing party. Seems
like some kind of revenge.
He
came to you in sickbay, his eyes distant like they are so often now, as if he
canÕt bear to look at you. ÒThe other doctors shouldnÕt have to go on all the
landing parties. I need you to be ready in an hour.Ó
You
want to ask him why the hell this new policy canÕt start tomorrow—itÕs not
as if heÕs wanted you on his landing parties before and you refused: heÕs tagged
Len or some other doctor over and over. YouÕre still recovering from the Larza virus that knocked out a third of the crew last week—this
time you had nothing to do with it being on board. Ironically, Jim did. Probably
getting up close and personal with a lovely Larzan. YouÕd
thought yourself immune after working on so many patients and not getting it,
but been proved wrong as life seemed to love to do to you lately. But you were
one of the last to get the virus, so youÕd taken some leave and holed up in
your quarters for a couple of days until you werenÕt contagious anymore and
could go back to work. But that doesnÕt mean you want to trek all over hell and
back.
ÒI
donÕt feel very well.Ó You didnÕt look at Jim as you said it, didnÕt want him
to see that itÕs killing you how little he seems to care about you other than making
sure that you donÕt embarrass him or his crew.
ÒReally?Ó
There was disdain in his voice youÕve never heard before. ÒThatÕs not a very creative
excuse, Chris. And I know how smart you are. Do better next time.Ó He pounded
the bulkhead once—a habit you used to find charming. His signal for ÒitÕs
decidedÓ or ÒletÕs go.Ó ÒOne hour.Ó
ÒFine.Ó
And
now youÕre finding it difficult to catch your breath as the heat and the dust
and this goddamn marathon he seems to have you on is taking the last of your
reserves. But he wonÕt want to know that, so you keep walking and you realize
almost too late that heÕs stopped walking, has in fact turned to study you, the
rest of the landing party going on at his gesture to continue.
ÒYou
donÕt look right,Ó he says softly and finally there is some trace of the man you
spent so much time with on Earth.
ÒI
told you. I donÕt feel well.Ó But how would he know? Len obviously didnÕt tell
him youÕd been sick. And youÕve been avoiding the lounge these days. Nyota has
commented on it. She knows you were seeing the captain and now you arenÕt. She
doesnÕt ask why and youÕre not sure if itÕs because sheÕs well aware of his
policy or if sheÕs secretly glad youÕre not with him anymore. YouÕve always
suspected she was more than a little in love with him.
He
turns you so youÕre facing away from the dust. ÒDo you have Larza?Ó
ÒJesus,
Jim, IÕm not so stupid IÕd bring it down to these people. Yes, I did have it,
but IÕm not contagious.Ó
ÒBut
youÕre still sick?Ó
ÒIÕm
recovering.Ó You meet his eyes, hating how much weakness must be showing in
yours. ÒI told you I wasnÕt feeling well.Ó
His
voice is more tender than youÕve heard it in a long time. ÒI thought you just
didnÕt want to spend time with me.Ó
ÒThat,
too.Ó You know your eyes have changed, from weak to angry, from passive to
ready to throw him off a cliff, if only there were one nearby.
He
takes you by the arm, his hold on you somewhere between helpful and irritated.
He passes the others, dragging you in his wake. ÒStay up front.Ó
Which
means you have to walk faster than you were. HeÕs not doing you any favors. You
swallow hard and try to keep up with him, but youÕre tired and youÕre weak and
you were crying last night like an idiot over this man who is striding off and
leaving you.
Until
heÕs not. Until heÕs back at your side, and pulling out his communicator, and
saying, ÒKirk to Enterprise.Ó
ÒEnterprise here, sir.Ó
ÒPlease
beam up Doctor Chapel. And notify Doctor Garris that
heÕs needed.Ó
ÒAye,
sir.Ó
You
want to tell him that he doesnÕt have to do this, but youÕre afraid youÕll
start coughing—or possibly crying. YouÕre very glad heÕs not telepathic
like Spock, that he canÕt feel what being this close to him, hearing his voice
sound the least bit kind, is doing to you. You look down and murmur that youÕre
sorry.
ÒGet
checked out at sickbay and then take the rest of the day off. Tomorrow, too, if
you need it.Ó His voice is gentle again, and itÕs confusing how quickly he can
switch. On Earth he was steady—unhappy as hell, but constant in how he
treated you. Now that heÕs happy, itÕs as if heÕs a different man.
YouÕd
ask him again to let you transfer off, but youÕre too tired.
ÒReady
to beam Doctor Chapel up, sir. Doctor Garris is
standing by to beam down.Ó
ÒEnergize.Ó
As
the planet fades away, you think you hear him say, ÒIÕm sorry, Chris.Ó
Him:
You
wander into sickbay, knowing McCoy isnÕt there, hoping Chris still will be. SheÕs
been avoiding the lounge and you hardly ever see her in the main mess unless
sheÕs with someone.
Her
office doors are open and the light is on. You take one step, then another,
knowing this is stupid, knowing the best way to keep from letting her in and
risking the ship is to turn around and walk out.
She
looks up and her face is the one you remember from when she was a nurse. Sweet
and full of ÒHow can I help?Ó ItÕs not a look youÕre accustomed to seeing since
sheÕs been on your ship as a doctor. And it changes the moment she realizes
itÕs you and not a patient in need. ÒSir?Ó
You
step into her office but donÕt sit down. You want to call for
privacy—probably should—but youÕre afraid of what youÕll do if the
doors are closed and the window between her office and sickbay darkened. You
want her too much to risk it. Instead you force your voice into the register
that means this is business, your tone brusque when you say, ÒWe canÕt have a
repeat of the last landing party.Ó
You
can see your words register on her face; youÕre not sure if sheÕs even aware of
how much she gives away. ÒWell then maybe you should take me seriously when I
say I donÕt feel well.Ó She turns back to her terminal. As if what sheÕs said
takes care of this. As if itÕs all your fault.
ÒWell
maybe you should make it sound more like a medical problem and less a personal
one.Ó
She
freezes and you wonder what youÕre going to get when she turns around. But she
doesnÕt turn around. ÒPersonal? IÕm
not the one making this personal. You
left me out of every landing party and then insisted I go on one when I told
you I wasnÕt a hundred percent. You
block my social time. You wonÕt let
me transfer off.Ó
ÒThis
is a good posting.Ó And you donÕt want to let her go. SheÕll find someone
quickly if she does. SheÕs too much fun to be around—too good at getting
what she wants—not to.
She
does turn around finally, and you realize the reason she didnÕt before is that
sheÕs crying. ÒI know why you wonÕt let me off. How would it look? We were
together and then, once youÕd gotten what you wanted, you demoted me. For
someone whoÕd fucking retired.Ó She stares at you, as if she canÕt believe you
two were ever close. ÒIÕm not going to complain. IÕm not going to make trouble.
Just let me go, Jim.Ó
You
turn and hit the privacy button. The door closes and the screens go dark as you
lean in. ÒWhy would you want to leave? Spock canÕt take his goddamned eyes off
you.Ó
ÒWhat?Ó
She backs away. ÒWhat the hell does that have to do with anything?Ó
ÒI
keep waiting... Waiting for one or both of you to make your move. You loved him
for a long time, Chris.Ó
ÒI
repeat. What does this have to do with me transferring off?Ó She stands and
walks to the door, about to hit the privacy button, but you stop her, you grab
her arm and pull her close.
She
stares at you with some mix of confusion and anger and pain. ÒDo you want me
with him? Would that make it easier for you? IÕve got an even better way to
simplify things. Let. Me. Off.Ó She punctuates the last three words with a
sharp finger to your breastbone.
ÒI
donÕt want to.Ó YouÕre staring at her, wondering if your look is as helpless as
you feel. ÒI canÕt.Ó There. ItÕs out and she can make of that what she will.
You
let go of her arm, turn and hit the button, and flee.
Her:
You
sit in the lounge staring daggers at Jim. Nyota is watching you and while
normally you try not to show her how much heÕs hurt you, after his visit this
afternoon, you donÕt think youÕre capable of hiding it anymore.
He
ÒcanÕtÓ let you go? What the hell does that even mean? And why did he have to
look so damned helpless when he said it?
ÒWhich
one of them are you glaring at?Ó NyÕs voice is even,
as if sheÕs not asking something she has carefully left alone since you told
her Jim and you were over.
ÒJim.Ó
ÒAh.
I thought so but you know...could be either.Ó
ÒIÕm
not mad at Spock.Ó You consider downing your drink and ordering another, but
getting drunk is probably a terrible idea. ÒHe and I breaking up was a mutual
decision. Jim just—Ó You look away, taking a sip, not the gulp youÕd like
to take, of your vodka tonic.
NyÕs the only one of your friends who knows you were with Spock.
And you only told her when it was over, so she could go for him if she wanted. You
thought they might be good together, but then Spock went to Gol
and that chance passed. Although maybe now they could make it work. YouÕre
about to tell her that when you see Jim look over. He seems to realize youÕre
looking his way and turns back quickly to Spock.
ItÕs
like goddamned junior high, only with more at stake.
ÒNot
that I want you to leave, but you could transfer off if this is really
uncomfortable.Ó NyÕs expression is full of compassion,
much more than she ever had when you chased Spock. Probably because she can see
actual pain in your eyes this time. Spock was always an elusive target until
you finally caught him—but you enjoyed the chasing part. Jim...Jim you
thought you had.
Nyota
doesnÕt know how many times youÕve asked Jim to let you transfer off. You canÕt
do that to him because itÕs irregular as hell that he wonÕt release you, and
you donÕt want to get him in trouble. You were serious when you told him you
werenÕt going to start bitching about being a spurned—and
demoted—lover once you got back to Earth.
But
you realize youÕve never forced his hand. Never sent him the formal request to
transfer. Asking him to let you go and being told no is a very different thing
than making him deny a formal request that sits in the system, fully accessible
to Spock and anyone at Command who wants to check personnel issues.
Have
you not put in the request because you donÕt want to get him in trouble or
because you donÕt really want him to let you go?
The
image of him in in your office, his hand hot on yours, his eyes so...
You
stand up and say, ÒThatÕs it for me.Ó
ÒOkay.Ó
Her expression is kind. It generally is. Jan wouldnÕt be as nice about it. But
Jan transferred off as soon as it became clear Jim was staying.
YouÕve
never told Jan you were dating her former crush. Maybe Ny has, because Jan
hasnÕt been comming you as much as she used to. You
should care about that. You should fix things now that you and Jim are over. But
you know you wonÕt.
Are
you stupid enough to think you can still win? That you can lure him back? HeÕs
looked helpless before. You think heÕs looked that way at Jan once or twice. It
means heÕs lonely and possibly horny, and there are no alien women in reach,
nothing more.
You
force yourself not to turn around and look at him as you leave the lounge.
Him:
You
sit inside a thicket of plants and watch for movement. ÒChris. WhatÕs
happening?Ó
ÒAlmost
stabilized,Ó she says softly, clearly not wanting to draw attention.
For
once you two are united. Camsin and Deangelo are wounded, and she and Spock are working
together to stop the bleeding. You hate projectile weapons, the way they tear a
body up as they bring pain and death. But these natives appear to be crappy
shots and maybe youÕve caught a break.
If
you can just hold them off for the next seven minutes, until the interference
that floats over this moon—and periodically makes transporting impossible—floats
away again and the ship can beam you up.
Spock
moves up to crouch next to you. His hands are red and his shirt is smeared with
blood from where heÕs wiped them off. He went to help Chris almost on reflex,
and you think itÕs because thatÕs just him, being an efficient Vulcan, and not
because theyÕre together.
But
youÕre not sure anymore. You see them sometimes, in the lounge now, on nights
youÕre not playing chess with Spock. They usually sit in the upper portion,
where itÕs quieter, and they often have padds.
The
logical part of you says theyÕre just trading science information. The
emotional part says that science is where the heart is for Spock, and Chris
isnÕt afraid to use what works.
ÒAre
you all right, Jim?Ó SpockÕs voice is soft and doesnÕt carry a trace of guilt
for poaching your woman. Not that he knows Chris is your woman; you havenÕt
told him anything. But maybe she has.
Would
she? Damn it all, why are you obsessing over this? ÒIÕm fine.Ó You see movement
and murmur, ÒThere.Ó
Spock
goes on alert, the way you know he always will—the way you count on him
to. HeÕs your right hand and if heÕs with Chris, itÕll be okay, wonÕt it? If he
wants her and you wonÕt take her, it has to be okay.
You
should have let her leave the ship when she wanted to. End of problem.
The
movement is sharper now, but itÕs only an herbivore of some kind, stepping out
of the woods like a Terran deer, just as jumpy,
scenting the air and no doubt smelling the blood of your men since youÕre
upwind of it.
It
takes a few bites of grass, then raises its head, turning and scanning and you
freeze, even though it wonÕt hurt you or your people. You want it to relax and
then it can serve as your early warning system.
Spock
seems to get it, and you watch the deer-thing together. You relax when the
animal finally starts grazing.
Turning
slowly, trying not to make much noise, you watch Chris as she works. The men
arenÕt bleeding anymore, and sheÕs putting a makeshift sling on one of them,
her voice soft and pretty.
No,
not pretty—you donÕt get to think that anymore. You donÕt get to think
about how sensual she can sound or how sweet or how amused when youÕve said
something that cracks her up. The sound of her happiness was what kept you sane
on Earth, but now you have to put that behind you.
She
looks up at you, and her smile isnÕt the wary one youÕre used to now. ItÕs a
tired one, though. This has been a long mission and itÕs gone badly from the
start. But she nods and murmurs, ÒTheyÕll be all right.Ó
You
nod back, and your eyes lock with hers. For a moment, youÕre back on Earth, in
her apartment because Lori refused to give up yours and you hadnÕt found a new
one yet. Chris is lying under you and looking at you with such openness. You
almost told her that you loved her the night before she shipped out. YouÕre
sorry you didnÕt.
YouÕre
glad you didnÕt. SheÕd never give up if she knew how you really felt.
But
it hurts you in a way you know is ironic that she can believe you donÕt love
her after the time you spent, the way you connected. Then again, your
reputation says thatÕs what you are. The man who loves and leaves. Not loves
and is left. Or loves but canÕt have.
You
turn before you say something stupid like, ÒCome to my quarters tonight.Ó
ÒHow
long?Ó you ask Spock, because heÕll know exactly how long it will be before
Scotty can beam you up, when youÕd have to check the tricorder and make more
noise than you want to.
ÒTwo
minutes thirty seconds.Ó
ÒThanks.Ó
ÒI
think.Ó At your surprised look, he lifts an eyebrow and says, ÒI was occupied,
Jim.Ó
ÒI
know. But you usually multitask.Ó Unless maybe heÕs with a woman he finds as
delightful as you find Chris. Unless heÕs thinking about how he wants to get
her up to the ship and—
No.
No, even if heÕs thinking that, itÕs immaterial.
ÒYou
seem unusually tense, Jim. Our situation is much less dire than it was before.Ó
ÒKeep
your eyes open anyway.Ó Your words are said harshly, and Spock looks taken
aback. ÒSorry. YouÕre right: I am on edge.Ó You manage to not look back at
Chris, manage not to tell him sheÕs yours and to keep away.
ÒAs
I said.Ó Spock goes back to scanning your surroundings, and you imagine heÕs
thinking youÕre acting like the one who was emotionally overwhelmed by VÕger, not him.
And
heÕd be right.
Her:
The
night is hot and humid and your head hurts from the strident sounds of Televians and Federation personnel celebrating with too
much of the local drink and not enough antitox. YouÕve
already been into your personal stash of the drug twice. The Televians like to party. Fortunately they also have other
things to offer the Federation.
You
stand up when itÕs clear the required part of this festival of belonging is
over, and slip away to the beam-out spot, but you hear heavy footsteps and a
murmured, ÒChris?Ó
You
turn and itÕs Jim. HeÕs looking at you in a way you havenÕt seen since Earth. And
heÕs clearly a thousand sheets to the wind.
ÒForget
your antitox?Ó You try to keep your words
professional, but something seductive has slunk into your voice despite knowing
he will hate you if you take advantage of him when heÕs this way.
He
moves closer. ÒYou were always the designated holder of the antitox.Ó
He stumbles against you. ÒI kept trying to catch your eye, give you the
signal.Ó
ÒI
was quite a few seats down from you. With a lot of inebriated people between
us.Ó
ÒThereÕs
always something between us. A bunch of drunks. Spock.Ó
You
start to laugh. ÒThe drunks, yes. Spock, though?Ó
ÒYou
can tell me if youÕre with him.Ó He pulls you off the path and into the woods
that line the estate the celebration is taking place at. The moons are shining,
so itÕs not too dark to see where youÕre going or youÕd fight him. HeÕs in no
shape for a midnight stroll.
You
dig out an antitox. ÒOpen your mouth.Ó
He
does. Obediently. And then he runs his hands through your hair, which is down
as the protocol rules required for this shindig. The Televians
wanted people to be loose and free. Thank God they werenÕt nudists.
He
leans in and kisses your cheek. ÒI love you.Ó
ÒSure
you do, Jim.Ó You can see the drug is already starting to work, can see
awareness of what heÕs doing and who heÕs doing it to come back to him. ÒIÕm
going up to the ship. IÕve done my duty here.Ó
ÒThatÕs
what I am now? Duty?Ó He isnÕt drunk anymore and his voice is bitter—as
if you broke up with him?
ÒIÕm
sorry, did I misunderstand the conversations weÕve had? Do you want to be more?Ó
ÒWhat
I want and what I can have are two different things.Ó He takes a step back. Then
another. ÒBesides, youÕre with Spock.Ó
You
canÕt help it. You start to laugh. His voice is so morose over this fact heÕs
made up. ÒIÕm actually not.Ó
ÒYouÕre
not?Ó
ÒNo.
I scratched that itch after Platonius. We parted as
friends.Ó
He
closes his eyes for a moment. ÒI donÕt feel very good.Ó
You
dig out another antitox and hand it to him. ÒBut if I
wanted to be with him, I would be. Since you wonÕt let me date anyone else but
Chekov.Ó
He
starts to laugh. ÒThat was so shitty of me to cock-block you that way.Ó
You
laugh, too. ÒI didnÕt really like Freeman. But I thought he might make you
jealous.Ó
ÒHe
did.Ó He takes a deep breath, and you can tell the second antitox
is working. ÒHow did I miss you and Spock together?Ó
ÒYou
were a bit busy with Elaan and her tears among other
things.Ó You see understanding dawn. ÒAnd he and I werenÕt really a couple.Ó
ÒNot
like us?Ó
You
think at first heÕs baiting you, saying that to be mean, but his eyes are
gentle. ÒWere we? Because you told me you donÕt love me.Ó
ÒI
also just told you I did.Ó
ÒYes,
and you were very drunk. Besides, does it change anything?Ó You can feel your
voice getting harsh and bitter but canÕt stop yourself. ÒThat you love me? What
the hell am I supposed to do with that?Ó
And
just like that you see the captain take over the man you love, and you suddenly
wish youÕd been out of antitox. Sloppy-drunk Jim was
much more fun, and made you more fun, too.
ÒI
withdraw the question, sir.Ó You turn and head back to the path to the beam-out
site.
He
doesnÕt try to stop you.
Him:
You
sit across from Spock and try to pay attention to the board, moving pieces
nearly at random until Spock finally pushes the board aside and says, ÒJim, you
are distracted—and your play is erratic.Ó
You
should make something up, but then you look over at the dance floor where Chris
is dancing with a crewman you donÕt recognize and you settle for sighing
heavily.
Spock
follows your gaze. ÒAh.Ó
ÒWhat
the hell does that mean?Ó Ah. Ah what? Ah, yes, the woman Spock would like to
be with again, so perhaps you should not be staring? Or the woman he was with
and has no intention of getting back with?
You
rub your eyes. YouÕre tired, so goddamned tired. You think you were running on
the high of getting the ship back before. YouÕve been so busy being the best captain
you can be that youÕve run yourself into the ground.
ItÕs
ironic, in a sense. If she knew, Chris could relieve you of duty. Would she do
it? You donÕt know.
You
realize Spock has said something and look over at him. ÒWhat?Ó
ÒI
was merely remarking that IÕve noticed you spend a great deal of time staring
at Christine.Ó
ÒSo
do you.Ó
ÒPrimarily
because I am trying to see what has you so rapt.Ó SpockÕs eyebrow goes up, and
itÕs like the Vulcan version of the rimshot after a
good zinger.
And
you laugh, because heÕs funny and youÕve missed his dry Vulcan wit. ÒSpock, do
you want her?Ó
ÒI
do not.Ó There is something in his eyes that says heÕll say more but only if
you probe.
And
you do because you want to know if what she told you was true. You want to hear
it from him. ÒWere you with her?Ó
He
nods. ÒAfter Platonius. Briefly. We were not
compatible in the ways that mattered.Ó He meets your eyes and his are
unrelenting. ÒAre you with her?Ó
You
feel a surge of relief. HeÕs asked you about this. You can finally talk about
this. YouÕve left McCoy out because you donÕt want to put him in a weird
position being her boss and your friend. But Spock is asking. ÒYeah, I was.Ó
You
look over at her, dancing with a new man. One of these days someone is going to
go from temporary dance partner to lover. You dread that day.
ÒYou
clearly have strong feelings for her, Jim. Why are you not still with her?Ó
You
laugh, and itÕs the outburst of air that you make when youÕre more surprised
than amused. ÒIsnÕt that obvious?Ó
ÒIt
has never been to me. Your rules about fraternization do not always make sense.
Especially when the woman in question is in medical. Many captains have found
their mates from that section.Ó
Mates.
Trust Spock to put it in the most primitive terms.
You
pull the chess board back and indicate Spock should take his turn. ÒI lay awake
at night thinking of loopholes. Of ways around my rules.Ó
Spock
makes a move that puts you in way more danger than normal. You really are
playing like shit tonight. ÒThey are your
rules, Jim. You do not have to go around them. Simply change them.Ó
ÒBut
Nogura...Ó You sigh. Do you want to admit how afraid you are that this ship—the
ship you missed so much it hurt—might be taken away from you?
But
you miss Chris that much, too. You want her as much as you wanted the ship. ÒIt
sounds so simple when you say it, Spock. Change, bend, cheat.Ó
ÒIt
is not cheating. But if you think it is, then this may be an insurmountable
problem. I take it she does not wish to transfer?Ó
You
donÕt answer immediately, unsure if Spock is testing you or if Chris really
hasnÕt told him anything. Even though youÕve seen them talking—their dark
heads close together as they lean in at the mess table or sit in the upper
lounge.
But
Spock looks sincerely curious so you murmur, ÒI donÕt want her to go.Ó
He
doesnÕt know what to do with that. You can see it on his face. HeÕs processing—does
what you said mean she hasnÕt requested a transfer, or that she has and youÕve
denied it? He should know you better than that. You wouldnÕt deny it if it were
in the system. Moreover, he sees most of the transfer requests. But sheÕs never
put her request in despite asking you for a transfer—and youÕve spent a
lot of nights trying to figure out why she doesnÕt just make it official.
And
you spend even more time hoping itÕs because she still loves you.
ÒShe
does not strike me as happy these days, Jim.Ó
ÒHappy?
Coming from you?Ó YouÕre trying to divert him. The relief you felt at being
able to talk about this is turning into a feeling of being trapped. Yes, you
have these feelings but talking about them any longer will give too much weight
to...possibilities. Alternatives you cannot take advantage of.
He
looks a little disappointed in you. But he moves his chess piece without
comment, and you go back to the game, trying your best not to sneak looks at
Chris.
Her:
YouÕre
working on reports that Len should be doing because tonight youÕre seeking any
excuse to stay out of the lounge. And sickbayÕs calm, and the lights are turned
down, and you can almost pretend things are the way they should have been. That
youÕre here because this place is yours, and soon Decker will come in and sit
down in the chair across from you and put his feet up on your desk despite your
scowls and just shoot the shit.
You
miss Decker. No one ever talks about him. Ny and Pavel and Hikaru and
Scotty—they all just seem glad to have Jim back. But sometimes you miss
the captain who believed in you.
You
hear the sickbay doors open and get up. The two doctors on duty have gone to
grab some coffee—you told them to go. ItÕs obvious to you that theyÕre
falling in love. It seems only fair that someone be happy on your duranium
prison.
You
expect to see a patient; you donÕt expect to see Jim. He smiles, a gentler
smile than youÕre used to, at least when heÕs sober. ÒBones said you were
here.Ó
ÒWorking
on reports.Ó
He
motions for you to go into your office, actually sits across from you rather
than standing like he did the last time he came to visit. ÒThank you.Ó
ÒFor
what?Ó You know what. You just want to hear him say it.
You
just want him to talk to you. Anything that will drag this out is fair game. You
miss far more than just sex with him. The two of you
talked—connected—or you thought you did.
ÒFor
saying no the other night when I was drunk.ÕÓ He leans in and sighs. ÒIf youÕd
said yes...Ó He shakes his head and stares down at your desk. As if answers lie
in white laminate.
ÒYou
would have hated me if IÕd said yes.Ó
ÒThatÕs
true. And...itÕs not.Ó He leans back and holds his hands over his eyes, the way
he used to when heÕd just gotten home after a bad day being an admiral. ÒSpock
told me to change my rules.Ó
YouÕre
shocked that heÕs talking this way. As if heÕs on the verge of capitulating and
doesnÕt seem happy about it. ÒHave you been drinking?Ó
ÒNo.
Damn it. IÕm trying to talk to you. We used to be good at that.Ó
ÒI
used to think you loved me.Ó
ÒI
do.Ó He stares at you angrily, as if this is your fault.
You
should be happy that he loves you, but the victory feels so hollow. ÒI have to
finish these reports, Jim. You coming in and taunting me with vague hints of ÔmaybeÕ—thatÕs
just mean.Ó
ÒHeÕll
take my ship.Ó The words come out in a panicked rush.
ÒWho
will?Ó
ÒNogura.
He had someone else in mind to replace Decker, but I came back the conquering
hero and forced his hand. But heÕs watching me.Ó
ÒSo
you lied to me? For this?Ó You indicate the room around you. ÒFor metal and
crew and space and not being tied to a desk?Ó You can sense the enormity of
your rival. It goes so far beyond just the ship. It goes to who he is, where
heÕs best, and how heÕs happy.
ÒDo
you want off the ship?Ó He looks as if heÕll finally let you go. This can end.
You
should want off this damn ship. Yes, itÕs an excellent posting, but you donÕt
think youÕll ever move on while youÕre here.
But
this, if you could just have this. Moments...
ÒChris,
IÕll let you go if this is hurting you.Ó
ÒI
donÕt want to leave you.Ó ItÕs out before you can think about what youÕre
saying.
ItÕs
out because itÕs the truth.
ÒNo?Ó
There is a world of emotion on his face. Happiness of some sort. Relief, maybe.
And something youÕre not sure how to read. ÒThatÕs good, then.Ó He looks away. ÒRight?Ó
You
donÕt want him to look away and you donÕt want him to have to ask if itÕs good.
You just wish you could go back to how it was when you were together. You were
so good together. Why doesnÕt that matter?
Then
he murmurs, ÒI miss you so goddamn much, ChrisÓ and you want to give him
something—anything—to make this better.
ÒJim,
can we just...can we try to be friends? YouÕve treated me like the enemy. And
IÕve done the same to you in reaction.Ó You want to get up, to pace, but your
office isnÕt big enough for that. ÒWe didnÕt just have sex. We talked. I loved
talking to you. I miss that.Ó
ÒI
do, too.Ó He looks relieved, like youÕve just taken a huge burden from him. ÒYou
want to stay?Ó
ÒBut
not like before. I donÕt think IÕll be okay if we keep on this way.Ó
ÒWe
can be friends.Ó His voice is desperate, as if youÕve thrown him a life jacket
in the middle of a vicious storm. ÒThis is a good posting.Ó
ÒIt
is.Ó You close your eyes for a moment, canÕt bear to see the expressions
playing across his face. Want and need and fear—fear of the man he used
to consider a mentor. Would Nogura really take the ship away?
Does
it matter? If Jim thinks he would, then thatÕs reality. ThatÕs the wall you
need to get over—the wall youÕre afraid youÕll never get over.
He
starts to get up and you stand, too, holding out your hand to stop him. ÒI need
to say this. If being friends doesnÕt work for us, then you have to let me go. With
a great recommendation.Ó
ÒOkay.Ó
He surprises you by taking your hand and squeezing it. ÒWe can make it work.Ó
ÒSure.
Okay.Ó This is your idea—not leaving, being friends—and yet youÕre
suddenly uncomfortable with it. ItÕs not in your nature to surrender, but it feels
like you have. But wouldnÕt leaving also be surrender? ÒI wish Spock had never
given me that padd to give to you.Ó
He
looks wounded, and you realize youÕve said that out loud.
And
that makes you feel bad. Bad that youÕve hurt him, which is stupid because heÕs
done nothing but that to you since he took the ship. ÒIÕm sorry.Ó
ÒDonÕt
be. IÕd probably feel the same way in your position.Ó He turns and leaves and
there is such heaviness in the room that you find it hard to get back to the
reports.
What
the hell are you doing?
Him:
YouÕre
in the middle of your second scotch when Chris comes into the lounge. She sees
you—appears to be looking for you and doesnÕt seem surprised to find you
looking back. Her smile is sweet and sad and loving—you shouldnÕt think
that word when you think of her, but itÕs true and you do.
ÒExcuse
me, gentlemen,Ó you say to the young ensigns you were talking to and make your
way to the bar, where she has come to roost. You donÕt like to admit youÕre
trying to stake a claim before any other Freeman types get ideas, but you know
thatÕs exactly what youÕre doing.
Even
if sheÕs not yours. Even if you canÕt have her—wonÕt let yourself have
her.
ÒSir.Ó
Her grin is playful, and itÕs been so long since youÕve seen that look on her face
that you almost donÕt know what to do with it.
But
you rally and say, ÒDoctor,Ó in the same voice. Because this is what friends
do. They tease. This isnÕt flirting, necessarily.
ÒBuy
me a drink?Ó
ÒGod
knows I owe you.Ó You signal the crewman playing barkeep to come over, and you
order her top-shelf vodka for her vodka tonic.
You
know what she likes, not just her drink of choice, but how she fixes her coffee
in the morning, how she likes her eggs done, her meat cooked, her toothpaste
squeezed.
You
hated every minute of being on Earth and loved every moment of being with her. It
was one of the more schizophrenic times of your life. But she stayed with you—even
seemed to like you no matter what mood you came home to her in.
Home.
Her apartment was home. Far more than your place with Lori ever was. You would
have had to find your own place but for VÕger. If
Nogura kicks you off the ship, you wonÕt have a home to go back to.
ÒYouÕre
quiet. Do you want me to go somewhere else now that I have my drink?Ó Her voice
is uncertain, so you turn back to her and try to give her the most tender smile
in your repertoire.
ÒNo,
Chris, I donÕt want you to go somewhere else. I wouldnÕt mind us going somewhere else.Ó You gesture
with your chin toward an empty table and with a smile of understanding, she
leads you toward it.
You
hate the new uniforms from a practical standpoint, but you like how they
accentuate her rear end. Almost as nice as what those minidresses
did for her legs.
You
force your eyes up. You shouldnÕt be ogling. Friends donÕt ogle. Do they?
Maybe
they do. ItÕs safe to admire a friendÕs body, right?
She
turns and you nearly crash into her. Laughing, she steadies you. ÒHow many have
you had?Ó
ÒItÕs
you, not the drink.Ó
She
looks surprised that youÕd be this honest. But youÕve been lying to her since
you took command and youÕre sick of it. Truth feels better.
ÒI
miss you. So, so much,Ó you say, and she smiles and slips into a chair. You
take the one next to her. ÒIÕm sorry I was an ass.Ó
ÒItÕs
okay. YouÕre my ass.Ó She shakes her head, turning a little red. ÒSorry, IÕm
not supposed to say that.Ó
ÒWhy
not? ItÕs true.Ó
Her
expression changes instantly, to one of hurt and anger. ÒYou havenÕt exactly
been alone, Jim. Mine and how many others?Ó
ÒI
was trying to forget you.Ó
ÒDid
it work?Ó
You
shake your head and purse your lips, the code you two have for ÒBig fat ÔNoÕ to
that.Ó You had a lot of codes. You werenÕt together that long but you found a
way to forge a secret language, to learn what the other liked, to make the
evenings and weekends fun even when your workdays were shittyÕs
snotty cousins.
She
smiles, and you think maybe sheÕs thinking the same thing. What you two share. Which
is dangerous, because thereÕs a line in the sand on how much you can backtrack
with her. You donÕt want to end up back at a desk, at Command, surrounded by
men and women who willingly gave up the stars and seem fine with the loss.
ÒI
want to say something.Ó You stop and consider if this is smart—itÕs right
but youÕre not sure itÕs what you really want. But she needs to know. ÒYou can
date whoever you want. IÕm not going to interfere. It was wrong of me and IÕm
sorry.Ó
ÒOkay.
Although for the record, I donÕt really need your permission to date people.Ó
ÒThen
why didnÕt you?Ó
She
laughs, the bitter expulsion of air that you didnÕt hear that much on Earth but
have on the ship. ÒAnd have you imply to some poor junior officer that IÕm the
queen of STDs? No thanks.Ó
YouÕre
not sure what to say, so you settle for sipping your scotch.
ÒYou
were an asshole, and your story was out of context.Ó
ÒGuilty
as charged.Ó You still canÕt believe you did that to her.
She
shrugs and looks away, and you think sheÕs letting it go. YouÕre owning that
you were wrong. What more is there to say?
Music
starts up, a song you remember dancing with her to. Slow and sexy in a little
bistro in Berkeley. She was wearing a black halter dress that left her back
very bare, and you let your fingers dance over her skin.
You
glance up from your drink and see her looking at you with an expression of such
longing it stops you cold. And you want nothing more than to let her know
youÕre there, too. In the memory. The good memory. ÒMarioÕs. Black dress. Lots
of skin. I may be moving away, but IÕll never forget, Chris.Ó
ÒNeither
will I.Ó She holds her glass up to you. ÒTo...friends.Ó
You
clink your glass against hers and resist the urge to add, ÒAnd more.Ó
Her:
YouÕre
sitting in the upper lounge with Spock. HeÕs reading a paper youÕre working on,
and itÕs surprisingly nice to be just relaxing as he makes notes on your padd.
You
hear footsteps behind you, recognize JimÕs step, his happy step. He hands you a
vodka tonic, and you imagine itÕs full of yummy top-shelf hooch. ÒThanks.Ó
ÒYou
seemed like you were out.Ó
You
almost laugh at this. He was at the bar in the main lounge and youÕre facing
the wall in the far corner of the upper lounge. There is no way he could even
see your glass. Did he want to see you or is he still jealous of Spock?
He
hands Spock a glass of water with a grin. ÒDidnÕt want to leave you out.Ó
ÒThank
you, Jim.Ó SpockÕs eyes are warm, and then he goes back to the padd.
ÒScintillating
reading?Ó Jim sits down next to you. Not too close, but before heÕd have
probably sat across from you.
ÒThe
Ilia...Ó You struggle with what to call it. It wasnÕt entirely a robot. ÒAndroid,
for lack of a better word, was advanced. IÕve had lots of spare timeÓ—you
shoot him a wry look, glad that you can say this without being so angry—Òso
IÕve been analyzing the scans we took. The analysis has morphed into a paper. Which
heÕs now editing.Ó
Jim
makes a face, a funny one that makes you laugh, and you know it means he thinks
Spock will be a hard editor. Then he leans back and you realize he doesnÕt have
a drink. ÒIs there a reason youÕre not drinking?Ó
ÒIÕve
got a headache.Ó
ÒDo
you want to go to sickbay?Ó
He
turns his head to look at you, and his expression is the one he used to give
you when he wanted you to massage his head and neck. Then he seems to realize
heÕs doing it and sits up. ÒIÕm okay.Ó
ÒI
can go and bring something back.Ó
ÒItÕs
fine, Chris. Leave it.Ó He doesnÕt sound mad, just leans back again and closes
his eyes.
ÒYou
had headaches on Earth, but I didnÕt know you had them on the ship.Ó
ÒSometimes.
Not often. ThereÕs been—itÕs been hectic.Ó
You
donÕt think thatÕs really true. ÒIÕd like to check you out. Or Len can do it,
if youÕd rather have him. Headaches are out of the ordinary for you.Ó You
glance at Spock to see if heÕs going to chime in, but he appears focused on
your paper.
ÒIÕll
be by tomorrow. You can do it.Ó He gives you a smile then gets up and leaves.
ÒHis
headache is not normal—you are correct.Ó Spock raises his eyes to meet
yours. ÒPerhaps the first flush of getting the ship back is over. Perhaps he is
missing other things.Ó
ÒOther
things?Ó
He
nods. ÒYou, for instance.Ó He hands the padd back.
ÒBetter?Ó
ÒIt
was quite good to begin with, but yes.Ó He seems to be studying you.
ÒJust
say it.Ó
ÒYou
and Jim have reached some kind of understanding. Things were quite tense before
and now they are not.Ó
ÒDŽtente.Ó
You take a sip of your drink. ÒFriends. ThatÕs all weÕll be.Ó
ÒI
do not believe that.Ó He sips his water calmly as if he has not dropped a huge
conversational bomb.
You
laugh and say, ÒElaboration would be appreciated.Ó It amazes you how easily the
two of you converse, how few words it takes. Maybe being in love with his best
friend was the magic recipe for improving your relationship.
ÒJim
had strong feelings for other crewmembers. Rand. Noel. Moreau, after his
experience in the mirror universe.Ó
You
knew about Jan, of course. But the other two are news to you. ÒThis is not
making me feel special.Ó
ÒIt
should. He sent them away. Or more accurately let them go. You he keeps.Ó
ÒI
never asked for a transfer.Ó
ÒYou
never requested one in the system or I would probably have seen it. But I am
relatively certain that you asked him for one in private. And he said no, did
he not?Ó
You
nod.
ÒAs
I said. He wants you around, Christine.Ó He leans back. ÒDo you want my
advice?Ó
You
laugh. This is such a strange conversation. Especially since Spock has seemed
to go out of his way not to bring Jim up with you. ÒSure.Ó
ÒJust
wait. When Jim first got the ship back, he was nearly paralyzed with fear that
he would lose it. I saw him questioning decisions, taking longer than he would
have previously. As if afraid to make a mistake. This tendency has faded the
longer he has been in the center seat.Ó
ÒWell,
he didnÕt refit the ship. Decker knew it better than he did.Ó
ÒAdmittedly,
but this was more than that. This went to the core of who he is and what he
wants and what he is willing to risk. Being with you is something that right
now he cannot entertain. But I predict that the more he makes this ship his,
the longer heÕs in command, the less he will care about the risk. His fear will
fade. And I think unconsciously he knows this. It is why he wants you here. Why
he brings you a drink on a whim.Ó
You
smile. ÒA really good drink. Expensive.Ó
His
expression is light as he nods.
ÒDo
you want me with him?Ó
ÒWe
are friends, Christine. I enjoy spending time with you—that might not be
true of other women he could choose.Ó
You
laugh. ÒAhhhh, so altruism goes out the window as a
motive for you being a big yenta.Ó
ÒI
never claimed to be altruistic. This is most assuredly personal. If I am honest—and
I see no reason not to be with you—his leaving the ship was one of the
last things that sent me to Gol. It is, I have come
to realize, my nature to run from emotionally laden situations—when I
feel overwhelmed. My father and I could not get along, so I went to Starfleet. I
felt as if Jim was abandoning me, so I went to Gol. I
do not wish to find myself in that state again. Jim happy with you would be one
way to help guarantee that.Ó
ÒI
never thought of you as someone who runs from your problems. But at least you
go to challenging places. Not like you run off to join the circus or laze on a
beach.Ó
He
almost smiles, and you grin back.
ÒCan
I ask you something, Spock? Why did you give me the padd for Jim? Why have me
deliver the message that you were leaving?Ó
ÒI
was highly emotional at the time. I felt betrayed by him and yet I knew that my
leaving would be a far greater betrayal—of him and all things human. I
did not know if the two of you would become involved, but if you did, it would
be the last emotional gesture I thought I would ever make. My last gift to you
both.Ó
You
lean in and touch his hand briefly. ÒThank you for that.Ó
ÒShould
you not wait to see if I am right before you thank me?Ó
ÒPfff. Jim will come around or he wonÕt. But itÕs still nice
what you did.Ó
ÒAre
you really so sanguine?Ó
You
laugh. He has become better at reading you since his meld with VÕger. ÒNo. IÕve been a mess.Ó
He
nods toward the padd. ÒBut a productive one.Ó
ÒYes.
But a productive one.Ó You smile. ÒSo just wait, huh?Ó
ÒThat
is my best advice.Ó
You
like his advice. You like that someone else is thinking thereÕs a chance for
you and Jim. YouÕve thought about it—especially lately, now that you and
Jim are friends again, and heÕs finding all sorts of reasons to be near
you—but you donÕt know if youÕre reading things correctly or just
engaging in a dangerous game of wish fulfillment that may never happen.
ÒAnd
if I am wrong, is there someone else you would rather be with?Ó SpockÕs look is
light again.
ÒNope.
And nowhere else I want to be.Ó
ÒThen
wait and see.Ó
You
nod. ÒOkay. Wait and see.Ó
Him:
YouÕre
walking on a beach and the water is a stormy gray. Rain is pounding down on
you, but you donÕt care. You have your pants rolled up and are carrying your
shoes and by God, you will walk on this beach.
Alone,
but at least you got the beach.
You
hear laughter, and you look back to see Chris running toward you with an
umbrella. You smile, even though you shouldnÕt, but itÕs as if the universe has
a terrible sense of humor or a very strange sense of whimsy.
ÒWhat
the hell are you doing out here?Ó She moves close enough to open the umbrella
and cover you both—well, as much as any umbrella ever covers two people. ÒItÕs
pouring, dipshit.Ó
You
laugh, because while she may have thought you were a dipshit lately, that name
was always reserved for when she was amused, not angry at you. ItÕs a name from
the old times, when she found you appealing even when you were cranky and never
failed to find ways to turn you into happy-Jim and not asshole-Jim.
You
take the umbrella from her and toss it aside. ÒWeÕll both get wet.Ó
ÒWhy?Ó
But she lets you take her arm and lead her down the beach.
The
storm picks up, and even though the sand is wet, itÕs not immune to the
blasting wind and it pelts you unmercifully.
ÒGee,
this is wonderful, because I wanted to spend my one day of leave getting
sandblasted.Ó She has moved closer, and you put your arm around her and pull
her even closer, letting her hide her face in your shirt as some sort of
reprieve from the sand.
ÒItÕs
a shitty day for a walk on the beach.Ó But you love the way it feels to hold
her like this, to feel her warmth even through layers of wet clothes.
ÒNo?
Really?Ó She looks at you, her hair sopping, her makeup running a little, and
youÕre not sure sheÕs ever looked more appealing.
You
smile and rub the make-up off, and she goes very still. Then you go still, too,
and the two of you just stand and stare into each otherÕs eyes like lovesick
teens.
ÒWhat
are we doing?Ó she asks, her grin sweet and amused.
ÒGetting
into trouble.Ó
ÒSweetie,
if you think this is trouble, youÕve been doing it all wrong.Ó With a grin, she
takes your arm and gets you moving again, only in the opposite direction, with
the wind at your backs. Smart women are so sexy—except youÕre headed back
to town and you wanted to walk and walk. She lifts her face to the sky, safe
now from pelting sand, and says, ÒI love beaches in the rain.Ó
You
look at her: this is news to you.
She
makes an expression of mock frustration. ÒI grew up in the Pacific Northwest. And
I like beachcombing. And it rains a lot. Ergo...Ó
You
touch her hair, pushing it back behind her ear. YouÕve been very free with your
hands, touching her too much lately, and you know it. But she never complains
or tries to make you take it further. This time she leans into your hand, but
when you let go, she says, ÒMaybe thereÕs beach glass.Ó
You
donÕt think there is, but if you could make it materialize just for her, you
would. You spend the next hour looking for it to no avail, but she manages to
find shells, and you spend some time skipping rocks—sheÕs surprisingly
good at it.
ÒIÕm
freezing, Jim.Ó She moves back from the surf. ÒIÕm going back up to the ship.Ó
You
want to tell her not to. Or to take you with her so you can warm up together. You
want that more than anything.
ÒI
have a room.Ó It comes out as if your mouth is operating independently from
your brain, but once itÕs out, you donÕt try to call it back. Even if you know
you should.
She
moves closer. ÒI want that so much. But I can see in your eyes that itÕs a bad
idea.Ó She leans in and kisses your cheek, lingering a moment, her lips soft on
your skin. ÒThis was fun,Ó she murmurs, then turns and walks away.
You
could stop her. You watch her and know that one word would probably stop her. But
you let her go.
You
turn back to the ocean and even though youÕre cold, you keep walking, trying
not to think of how sheÕll look in the shower, or curled up in a chair in her
plaid robe as she combs out her hair, or lying under the covers, naked
preferably. Your body responds to those images, and youÕre glad youÕre alone
out here.
Trying
not to think of her—all the lovely versions of her that youÕve known—is
definitely a great big bust.
Her:
You
hear someone cough and turn to see Admiral Nogura standing at the door to
sickbay. ÒSir?Ó
HeÕs
here because the ship was in the right place to give him a ride to Starbase
Fourteen for a summit. HeÕs been monopolizing Jim, although Jim invited you to
dinner with them last night. A dinner that included Spock and the department
heads, so you felt safe, disappearing in the noise.
ÒChapel,
isnÕt it?Ó
ÒYes,
sir.Ó
He
gestures toward your office and you lead him in, then hit the privacy switch
when he nods at it. He doesnÕt sit, so you donÕt, either. ÒI need you to be
completely candid, Doctor.Ó
ÒOkay.Ó
Your voice squeaks a little—shit, does he know about you and Jim?
ÒYouÕre
one of DeckerÕs people. Tell me how you think Captain Kirk is doing.Ó
You
know surprise is showing on your face. ÒWith all due respect, Admiral, IÕm also
one of KirkÕs people. I was on this ship before.Ó
ÒAh.
ThatÕs why youÕre still here, then.Ó
ÒThatÕs
part of the reason.Ó You canÕt believe youÕre talking to him like this. The man
who holds JimÕs future in his hands. But you donÕt see the point of not being as
blunt as you usually are—let him see why Jim wants you on his ship. ÒIÕm
here because even as deputy, this is an excellent posting.Ó Jim would smile to
see you parrot the party line so effortlessly. ÒAnd, sir, Captain Kirk is an outstanding
commanding officer. I have no complaints.Ó
ÒAt
ease, Doctor, before you break something.Ó
You
realize youÕre standing very stiffly, and try to relax, sitting when he finally
does.
ÒYou
were involved with Kirk on Earth.Ó
You
arenÕt sure what to say, and you swallow harder and more visibly than you mean
to.
He
starts to smile. ÒItÕs not in a record somewhere. I saw the two of you in
Sausalito one weekend. It was very clear you were together. Are you now?Ó
ÒSir?Ó
ÒAre
you together now?Ó
ÒWeÕre
friends. Nothing more.Ó You meet his eyes. Let him know this is the truth, even
if you hate it.
ÒI
see. And yet you were at dinner last night. It was...interesting that he chose
to have you there. I realize you were a department head but youÕre not anymore,
and I didnÕt see any other deputies there. What message do you think Jim was
trying to send me?Ó
ÒI
have no idea, sir. The refits are still being worked out in some areas. Food
service is one of them.Ó True, unfortunately. Everything will be fine and then
suddenly the replicators are spitting out half-done items that might or might
not resemble what you actually ordered. ÒPerhaps he wanted two doctors in case
of mass indigestion.Ó
He
laughs. ÒI doubt that was why.Ó He stands and you start to get up, but he
motions for you to stay seated. ÒHe pulled a fast one on me. Getting this ship
back.Ó He shakes his head. ÒHe thinks IÕm mad.Ó
ÒAre
you?Ó
ÒI
was. But the secret to getting ahead in any big bureaucracy is to be flexible. And
to recognize that talent and the future donÕt always conform to oneÕs
expectations.Ó
You
arenÕt sure what to say. Is he giving you permission to see Jim? Why isnÕt he
having this discussion with him, then?
He
takes a deep breath. ÒI came down here for more than just this little talk.Ó He
suddenly steadies himself on the back of the chair and grimaces as if in pain.
ÒSir?Ó
YouÕre up and around to him, scanning him even before you get him back into the
chair. ÒOh. Oh, sir, IÕm so sorry.Ó Medicine has advanced so much but there are
still diseases you canÕt cure, and he has one of them.
ÒPicked
it up years ago, according to my doctor. It sits dormant, until enough of your
cells age and degrade, and then boom. But I donÕt have to tell you that, do I? You
recognized it right away.Ó
You
nod. You saw a case at Starfleet Medical. An officer around NoguraÕs
age. Probably, if you checked, one who served on the same ship—the same landing
party even.
He
moves and groans. ÒItÕs worse right now. The pain meds my doctor gave me arenÕt
doing the trick.Ó
ÒYou
hid it well.Ó You had no idea during dinner that he was in pain.
ÒYou
donÕt get to where I am without developing a poker face. Something Jim could
learn.Ó He moves again, clearly trying to find a comfortable way to sit. His
joints—all of them—must be killing him.
ÒLet
me get something stronger.Ó You hurry out to sickbay, fill a hypo, and grab
some extra vials of the medicine, enough to hold him over until heÕs back on
Earth.
He
closes his eyes as you inject him. ÒMy wife and I divorced years ago. No kids. Married
to my job, you might say. ItÕs all I have. So IÕm keeping this quiet. Do you
understand, Doctor?Ó
You
nod, then you hand him the extra vials. ÒThese should tide you over till your regular
doctor can give you something stronger.Ó
ÒThank
you. I can see why Jim loves you.Ó He leans back and closes his eyes, and you
can tell the medicine is working. ÒDamn near flaunted you in my face last
night, Chapel. HeÕs getting tired of being well behaved.Ó
ÒI
donÕt think thatÕs what he was doing.Ó
ÒThen
you arenÕt as smart as I think you are.Ó He opens his eyes. ÒIÕve been hard on
him. Was disappointed when he didnÕt work out on Earth. He was my protŽgŽ, and
I had a route planned out for him. But he wanted to be back among the stars. And
now heÕs here. By a goddamned fluke and one big killing machine that ran off
with his successor.Ó He laughs. ÒHeÕs always made his own luck.Ó
ÒYes,
he has.Ó
ÒLife
is short and you never know when itÕs going to change forever. IÕve found that
out in the worst way possible. I had plans, still. New heights to reach.Ó
ÒIÕm
sorry.Ó
ÒI
came to you because I looked up your file when I saw you at dinner. You know
what it is to have your life derailed by something outside of your control. First
your academic career and now your CMO position.Ó
You
nod because heÕs right: having your future torn away is your steady state.
ÒI
know youÕll be discreet. IÕm not retiring until they escort me out on a gurney—or
possibly in a body bag.Ó
You
smile, but you know itÕs a half-hearted attempt. Nogura reminds you of Roger in
so many ways. ÒI understand, sir.Ó
ÒAnd
IÕll talk to Jim. Let him know IÕm fine with this.Ó He waves toward you with a
gesture that clearly means you being with Jim.
ÒDonÕt,
sir.Ó
He
lets out a bark of laughter that makes you grin: itÕs so spontaneous and sweet.
You can see how Jim might have looked up to this man, might have called him a
friend before he became his personal bogey man. ÒDonÕt tell him you two can be
together?Ó
You
shake your head. ÒLet him get there on his own.Ó
ÒWhat
if he doesnÕt? He loves this ship.Ó
ÒI
know. But let him get there on his own. For me?Ó You canÕt believe youÕre
saying this to the man who can make all your problems go away. But youÕve
fought so long—since Roger disappeared—and you donÕt want the easy
way now.
You
want to know that Jim loves you enough to risk the ship.
ÒI
like you, Chapel.Ó He nods, as if he wasnÕt sure about that before. ÒYou should
consider Command if you get tired of medicine.Ó
ÒMe?
At Command? At Starfleet Medical maybe, but real Command? I didnÕt go to the
academy, sir. IÕm not regular Starfleet.Ó
ÒYou
may not have started out that way, but I think you are now. Keep it in mind. There
are plenty of billets that need someone like you.Ó
ÒYes,
sir. Thank you, sir.Ó You scan him again and see that his readings are no
longer those of someone in extreme pain. ÒI wish I could do more for you.Ó
ÒSo
do I, Doctor. So do I.Ó
Him:
YouÕre
watching Chris as she talks to the delegation from Kretala.
SheÕs charming one of the Kretalan doctors, and heÕs
flirting in a way you donÕt really like. You turn away but then you remember
Nogura, what he said to you as you walked him to the transporter room.
ÒYouÕre
doing a good job, Jim.Ó It was something the old man would have said before you
went and fucked up all his plans for you. Before you stole your ship back and
tied his hands. ÒIÕm proud of you.Ó
There
was something off in his expression, but it didnÕt read as dishonesty. He meant
what he was saying. He just seemed a little sad.
But
he was proud of you. He didnÕt ask you why Chris was at a dinner she had no
business being at other than as your guest. And he said you were doing a good
job.
You
turn around and walk over to Chris. ÒDoctor, can I have a word?Ó
She
smiles at the doctor and leaves him with no particular trace of sadness over
being pulled away. ÒWhat is it?Ó
ÒHe
likes you.Ó
ÒHe
does.Ó SheÕs grinning up at you, the way she used to tease you when other men
flirted with her back on Earth. ÒWants to show me the city. I think he may want
me to go back to his apartment afterwards. He keeps saying how nice it is.Ó
You
grin back. ÒIÕm sure he does want all that. I know I said you could date whoever
you want, but...donÕt, okay?Ó
She
lifts her eyebrows. ÒNo?Ó
You
laugh, and you realize you feel free. ItÕs not just that Nogura told you that
youÕre doing a great job: you know you are. YouÕre on the Enterprise because you deserve to be. Being a captain is what you
do best. This mission—it was looking like it was going to go tits up
before you got here. The Kretalans have reserves of
some very strategic minerals—especially after VÕger
destroyed some of the FederationÕs sources—and it was vital to get a
trade agreement hammered out. Which you have—well, technically Spock did,
but you were the one who went out and played the local equivalent of golf with
the prime minister while the scientists worked out the agreement.
An
agreement that needed the prime ministerÕs signature. And he was on the fence
even if he was allowing his people to go through the motions. Until you got
done with him. ItÕs not just women you can charm, and itÕs not just sex that
gets the job done.
Chris
is waiting for you to answer, and she has a gently amused expression on her
face. ÒHeÕs looking better and better, Jim. Just saying...Ó
You
laugh and lean in and whisper, ÒI love you. DonÕt go with him. Stay with me.Ó
ÒDefine
Ôwith.ÕÓ Her look is mischievous and sensual and itÕs all you can do not to
grab her and hightail it to the nearest room with a bed. Or at least a nice sturdy
wall.
ÒWith. Like we used to be. I donÕt want
to not be with you anymore.Ó
Her
smile is the most beautiful thing youÕve ever seen, and she reaches up and
touches your cheek, and says, ÒI love you. And yes, fine, IÕll resist the
overwhelming urge to dump your sorry ass for him.Ó She gives you a grin thatÕs
loaded with just a little bit of payback, and you nod because itÕs not like you
donÕt deserve it. ÒBut the doctor youÕre so jealous of also has a procedure I
want to see. ItÕs for a disease similar to one in which I have a personal
interest.Ó She gives you a strange smile. ÒSo you can wait, yes?Ó
ÒWell,
weÕll be stuck here for a while, so yes. And we have time. I just wanted
to—Ó
ÒMake
sure I knew I was yours? Well, you did, so let me go pick this guyÕs brains. IÕll
be gone for a while if we go to the hospital.Ó
ÒI
trust you.Ó
And
you realize you do. You never really trusted Lori, which is probably why she
hit ÒDo Not RenewÓ on the term marriage agreement when your year was up. But
Chris you trust, not least because sheÕs still here after all the shit youÕve
put her through. SheÕs still talking to you and the last few months sheÕs been
so sweet, but she could get her back up when she needed to. SheÕs not your
doormat, and you love her for it.
ItÕs
hours before she comes back and youÕre sitting with the prime minister,
watching the suns set, the color like nothing youÕve ever seen. When she walks
over to you, she looks...elated, and you wonder what this disease is sheÕs so
bent on curing.
You
pull a chair close and say, ÒJoin us. You donÕt mind, do you, Temel?Ó
The
prime minister smiles. ÒNot at all. I would have one of my women join us, but I
am currently out of favor with my wives.Ó
Chris
laughs softly as she sits. ÒWhat did you do?Ó
ÒI
forgot an anniversary. Offend one, offend all. I should really have stopped
with one wife.Ó
ÒIÕll
remember that.Ó You wink at Chris. ÒJust one wife at a time.Ó
She
actually blushes. Just when you think thereÕs nothing she can do to charm you
more than she already has, she goes and tops it.
Her:
YouÕre
busy sending the info you got from the Kretalan
doctor to Starfleet Medical when your comm unit goes
off. You put it on visual and see Admiral Nogura on the other end. ÒHello,
sir.Ó
HeÕs
beaming. You sent him the procedure and specs for the medicines that the Kretalans used in conjunction with the therapy for a
disease very similar to his. ÒChapel, I owe you.Ó
ÒNo,
sir. ItÕs my job. The Kretalans had cures for three
diseases weÕve had little luck treating, and protocols for some weÕve never
seen. This one was very similar to what you have. I canÕt guarantee itÕll work,
though.Ó
He
waves that off. ÒItÕs better than what I had, which was Jack Goddamned Shit.Ó
ÒTrue.
IÕd have sent it to your doctor, but I wasnÕt sure who it was, and you did ask
me to be discreet. I didnÕt think prying would be very stealthy.Ó
ÒGood
instincts. Like I said. Command needs you, Chapel.Ó
You
laugh and shake your head.
His
look changes. ÒHas Jim come around? Because if he hasnÕt I might want to ask
you out the next time youÕre on Earth.Ó
ÒThatÕs
transference, sir. It happened all the time when I was a nurse.Ó You smile, and
you can feel the true joy in your expression. ItÕs been a while since youÕve
felt this hopeful about anything, much less Jim and you. ÒAs far as Jim, well,
a girl never tells. HeÕd want me to be discreet, too. But I wouldnÕt get your
heart set on anything.Ó
He
laughs. And itÕs a laugh with a lot more gusto than when he thought he had no
options. ÒGo have fun. And IÕm serious. If you ever need anything, Christine,
you just ask.Ó
ÒI
will.Ó Favors from higher ups are good to collect. ÒI hope it goes well.Ó
ÒMe,
too. Nogura out.Ó The screen goes dead.
You
hear a soft cough behind you and turn to see Jim.
ÒSomething
I should know? You dating my boss?Ó ThereÕs a soft smile on his face, but then
it fades. ÒI knew something was wrong with him. His energy was all off and he
looked so sad when he said goodbye.Ó
ÒIÕm
not dating him. And I canÕt talk about the other thing—medical stuff, you
know.Ó You pretend to zip your lip.
He
doesnÕt look upset with you. In fact, he looks happy.
ÒI
can be discreet, Jim. Very.Ó
ÒI
know you can. LetÕs be discreet right now.Ó He hits the privacy button and the
door closes, the windows darken, and he walks to you and pulls you out of your
chair and onto the desk. ÒSo me coming around...am I to understand that heÕs
okay with this?Ó HeÕs pulling your top up as he asks, pushing your pants off,
and you know that heÕd already made up his mind. That it doesnÕt matter what
Nogura thinks anymore. But heÕll like it even better if he doesnÕt have to
worry at all.
ÒHeÕs
fine with it. He cares about you, Jim.Ó
ÒAnd
I care about him. And now, so do you.Ó He brushes your hair back, then stops
and just stares at you. ÒIÕve wanted to do this for so long.Ó
ÒThen
by all means let me help.Ó You undo his pants, slip them down, and pull him to
you, wrapping your legs around him. As he slides into you, you close your eyes,
murmuring, ÒIÕve missed this, Jim.Ó
ÒGod,
so have I.Ó
And
then thereÕs no more talking, and youÕre both trying to be quiet, laughing as
you cover each otherÕs mouths to try to reduce the noise. These offices are
private, but they are not soundproof.
As
he finishes and leans against you, held inside you by your legs wrapped tightly
around him, he murmurs, ÒDid you wait for me?Ó
ÒThat
would make me pretty pathetic, wouldnÕt it?Ó Even if itÕs perfectly in
character given your track record with Roger and Spock.
ÒDid
you wait for me, Chris?Ó He cups your cheek, and you smile and lean into his hand,
craving his touch after so long away.
ÒI
guess I did.Ó
ÒDid
you know weÕd get here?Ó
You
shake your head, not wanting to say out loud that you doubted. YouÕd rather be
a woman who had faith. But you may have been nothing more than a woman under
the influence of a broken heart, inertia, and a tiny bit of hope—thanks
to a certain Vulcan.
ÒI
love you,Ó he says as you release him. He pulls your clothes up and gets you
settled back in your chair, then does his own. ÒAre you going to be done with
that soon? IÕd like to be discreet somewhere we can make more noise. Like my
nicely soundproofed quarters.Ó
You
laugh. ÒJust a few minutes.Ó
ÒYou
mind if I wait here?Ó He starts rubbing your back and neck as you work.
ÒThatÕs
slightly counterproductive,Ó you say as you try to type and not moan in
pleasure. He knows how much you love this.
ÒDonÕt
care.Ó There is such a lightness in his voice that you look up and he kisses
you on the forehead. ÒAnd by discreet I donÕt mean IÕm going to sneak around. YouÕre
mine.Ó
ÒThat
was never in doubt, Jim.Ó You pull him down to kiss you on the mouth, happy to
hear that you wonÕt have to hide the way you and Roger did at first, then you push
him away. ÒGo sit. I need to finish this and then we can play.Ó
ÒI
like the sound of that.Ó He sits in your chair, humming a song you recognize as
the one you danced to at MarioÕs. You glance over, and heÕs grinning and
staring at you like youÕre the sacrifice and heÕs the horny dragon.
ÒYouÕre
distracting me.Ó
He
shrugs. A big, expansive, sure-of-himself James T. Kirk shrug. And you realize
Spock was right. The man who broke up with you wasnÕt the man you fell in love
with. Then again this man might not be the man you fell in love with either
because heÕs actually happy. How much better will the two of you be together if
youÕre both happy?
YouÕll
think about that later. JimÕs tapping his fingers and this report isnÕt going
to write itself.
FIN