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

 

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

 

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

 

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