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) 2002 by Djinn. This story is Rated PG.
Crossing the Desert
by Djinn
They had been walking for
hours and Christine had come to the decision that the sand was
never-ending. "How much
farther?" she gasped as she forced her legs to keep moving.
Spock didn't answer. She supposed he viewed it as illogical to
waste precious breath on a question that ultimately made no difference. The shelter he had seen from the shuttle was
either just on the other side of this dune, or it wasn't. She closed her eyes and took the last few
steps to the top of the sand heap.
Please, let it be there, she pleaded as she opened her eyes. It wasn't.
Disappointment flooded
her. And something worse...defeat. She sank to her knees. "I can't do it, Spock. I'm sorry." Her words came out a croak.
Spock had gone several steps
before he realized she was no longer walking behind him. He walked back to her and hauled her to her
feet. "It is not far. You must keep going."
"I can't."
"You must. That is an order, Nurse." He turned away, already moving ahead toward
the shelter that she no longer believed existed.
"I'm dead," she
whispered. "And this is
hell." She forced her legs to move,
trying desperately not to fall as she slid down the dune. Spock didn't turn to check her progress. "And you're the devil," she
muttered at her tormenter.
He appeared to be much more
at ease in this environment than she was.
Vulcan was rocky high desert, not sand plains like this, but the heat
and the dust were similar. She remembered
how uncomfortable she had been when she had visited Vulcan during her Academy
training. At least this hellworld they
were on now had gravity comparable to Earth.
Christine amused herself for
the next few dunes coming up with names for the planet that now held them
captive. She didn't notice that Spock
had stopped and nearly bumped into him.
"Are we there?"
He shook his head, and she
sighed and let her head drop.
"Drink some water,"
he suggested, his voice devoid of any emotion.
"I ran out."
"When?"
"Hours ago. I thought we'd come to an oasis or
something."
"This is not a Terran
adventure vid, Nurse Chapel. There are
no oases on this planet. I have water
left. As you need the water more than I
do, you should have asked for it."
She was too tired to protest.
"Yes, sir."
He held out his water
carrier. "Drink."
She was going to argue but
then she saw his expression. He was
irritated with her. It figured that the
only emotion she would ever get out of him would be annoyance. She took the carrier and sipped at his water,
trying not to cough as the warm liquid hit her dusty throat.
He took the carrier back and
pointed in the direction they'd been walking.
"It should not be far now."
She sighed and nodded,
adjusting the roll of fabric she had torn from the bottom of her uniform shirt
and wrapped around her head to prevent sunburn.
Spock waited until she was done, then started to move toward the shelter
again.
She followed, determined not
to hold him up, but soon she could feel her strength waning and a dangerous
feeling of nausea coming over her.
Dehydration, her mind automatically diagnosed. Heat stroke.
She didn't have much time if they stayed out in the sun like this.
She realized Spock was at her
side, staring at her with concern. Wow,
she thought. That's a new emotion. She tried to smile at him, but her lips
cracked at the movement. "I'm
okay," she said trying not to move her mouth.
"No. You are not." Reaching around her back, he said, "I
will help you." He waited till she
was ready, then moved off slowly, supporting her as they navigated through the
sand.
This is my fantasy, she
thought numbly. And I'm too exhausted to
enjoy it. She felt him stiffen next to
her and realized that while it might be her fantasy, it was probably his nightmare. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
"There is nothing to be
sorry for." He pointed with his
free hand at something far in the distance.
"They are shelling."
She saw the tracers; they had
been so bright at night. Now they were
barely noticeable in the brilliant sky.
But they were hitting too close for comfort, and getting closer. At the pace they were going, they wouldn't
make it to shelter. "Leave me. You can make it alone."
"I would not wish to
explain to Doctor McCoy that I left you in order to save myself."
"Just tell him I
died."
"That would be a
lie." He nudged her into
motion. "We go together,
Christine."
She didn't realize for some
time that he had called her by her first name.
She was almost too tired to care.
The dune they were climbing
seemed to go on forever. "I
can't," she said, but no sound came out.
She tried to clear her throat but she couldn't. Nausea again threatened. Totally immersed in trying to not throw up,
Christine didn't notice that they had topped the dune.
"We are there,"
Spock said gently as they climbed down.
She made some strange gasping noises and he looked at her with concern,
finally realizing that she was laughing.
"This is amusing?"
She shook her head and the
noises turned to sobs as she tried to catch her breath. He led her into the shelter and eased her
onto the floor in the shade. Opening his
water carrier, he held it against her lips, barely letting the water touch
her.
"Take only a
little," he warned.
She swallowed and began to
cough--great racking gasps that made her bend over in pain. When they stopped, he held the water out to
her again and she drank, this time keeping the water down. She tried to take another swallow, but no
liquid came out. She looked at the carrier
stupidly, "More?"
He inspected the container.
"There is no more." Rising, he
began to inspect the shelter. A barrel
stood to the side and he raised the ladle that was attached and sniffed
it. "It is bad."
Christine closed her
eyes. She shivered. "I'm so cold," she complained. "Why is it so cold?"
He looked at her with
concern. "You are ill."
He was right. It was another symptom. "Heatstroke," she whispered. "I need water, Spock." It wasn't a request, merely a statement of
fact. He seemed to understand. Rummaging around the shelter again, he found
enough wood to start a small fire. It
took her a moment to realize that he was boiling the water. "Good idea," she said as she curled
up on the ground and closed her eyes.
"You must not sleep." He was there immediately, pulling her back up
to a sitting position. "Stay
awake."
Her eyes were already
closing. "I can't."
His voice was unexpectedly
sharp, "You will."
She opened her eyes and realized
he was holding her by her shoulders, his face so close she could lean in and
kiss him if she only had the energy.
She'd never been this close to him before...except for that time in his
cabin, when he had been going through Pon Farr.
She had tried to forget everything about that night, how she'd gone to
his quarters to tell him they were headed for Vulcan, how he had stood so close
and said those strange things to her.
He moved slightly and she let
go of the memory, preferring to study his face. "You have pretty
eyes."
"You are
delirious."
"No, I think that
they're pretty when I'm not about to die too," she said as she closed her
eyes again.
"Stay awake," he
said firmly. "That is an
order."
She didn't even try to obey
this time; it was just too hard to stay awake.
"Nurse. You are insubordinate."
"Oh, shut up," she
muttered as she tried to lie down again.
"I need to rest."
She felt him pull her up
again and move her closer to the fire.
He had found some kind of support for her to lean against and it felt
good against her back. They made nice
furniture on this planet, if nothing else, she thought. It wasn't until Spock reached around her to
take the water container off the fire that she realized she was leaning against
him. Suddenly embarrassed, she tried to
sit up.
"Stay where you
are," he ordered. "You must
stay awake. I am going to ask you
questions and you will answer them."
"Don't want to answer
any stupid questions. I want to
sleep."
"Nevertheless, you will
do as I say."
She realized he wasn't going
to give up. "Not fair. I get to ask some."
He sighed.
"And we have to answer
the question no matter how personal," she said, sure that he'd give up and
let her rest.
"I cannot promise
that."
"Good, then I'm going to
go to sleep." She closed her eyes.
"I will try to answer
them," he amended as he shook her slightly.
She groaned. "Either we answer or we have to
kiss." There, that should shut him
up, she thought tiredly.
There was a long silence and
she was just about asleep when she heard him say softly, "The terms are
acceptable." He moved her into a
less comfortable position. "What is
your full name?"
"We're not really going
to do this, are we?" she asked in a bitter voice. All she wanted to do was close her eyes.
"Answer the question,
Christine."
"Christine Ann
Chapel." She tried to find a
position that didn't put a strain on her back but he held her in place.
"If you are comfortable,
you will sleep."
She didn't reply.
"It is your turn,"
he said evenly.
"Fine. Do you have another name? A more personal one?"
"You couldn't pronounce
it."
"What kind of answer is
that?"
"A truthful
one." He tested the temperature of
the container and then held it to her lips.
"It will not taste good. But
it should be clean. You will drink
it."
She took a swallow and nearly
gagged but forced it down. He didn't
move the dish away until she had taken several more small gulps. Then, to her surprise, his arms settled around
her. Allowing herself to relax slowly
against him, she waited for him to pull away.
He didn't.
"Why did you join
Starfleet?" he asked.
"To find my
fiancé."
"But you stayed after he
died."
She shrugged. "I guess it grew on me. And that was two questions. My turn." She thought.
"The woman who you said was your wife. Did you love her?"
There was a long
silence. Then she felt Spock pull away
slightly.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked that."
She waited through another
long pause, then he said softly, "We did not rule out any questions."
"Some questions are just
too personal. Forget I asked it."
He waited a few moments, then
said, "Our betrothal was accomplished when we were children. I knew T'Pring only slightly when it
happened. Initially, she was welcoming
and seemed to be in favor of our union.
But when I left Vulcan, she closed her mind to me. We have not been close since."
"I'm sorry."
"There is nothing to be
sorry for." He held the water
container to her lips again.
Drinking quickly, she said,
"You need water too."
"Fortunately, I am not
that thirsty. I come from an arid
planet. This environment does not strain
my system the way it does yours."
"What was it like?"
"Dry. Hot.
Beautiful. But it is not your
turn to ask a question."
"Sorry."
"Where did you learn to
make Plomeek soup?"
She chuckled. "I asked M'Benga. My turn.
Was it good?"
He didn't hesitate. "It was."
She smiled. "You never said."
"I know. I was remiss."
"It's okay. I know now." She could tell that the unsaid 'before it's
too late' was hanging between them. She
prompted him, "Your turn."
"I know that you were
training to be a doctor. Do you have
plans to pursue that again?"
She realized he was refusing
to accept that she wouldn't make it back to the ship. "I might. When this mission is over. Why does it matter?"
"Is that your
question?"
"Just answer it."
He held up the water
container again. "A waste of talent
is illogical."
"Spoken like a true
Vulcan." She sipped at the putrid
water. "It would also get me off
the ship. That's got to be a plus."
"I would not view your
absence as a positive thing."
"Oh come on, Spock. I've made a complete ass of myself several
times now. It must be embarrassing for
you. God knows I'm pretty sick of being
teased about it."
"The crew is unkind to
you because of this?"
"Most of them don't mean
to be unkind."
He didn't answer right away.
"Whose turn is it?"
she asked, trying to turn the subject back to something less painful.
"Mine." He shifted slightly against her. "Do you stay on this ship for me?"
She froze. "That's not a fair question."
"Given the nature of the
conversation so far, it is no less fair than any other question."
"Ok. Then.
Maybe."
"That is
imprecise."
She tried to move away from
him. His arm was like iron, preventing
her from getting away. "It's the
best I can do." She was too weary
to struggle against him and suddenly very tired of playing Spock's game. She closed her eyes and felt him move his
head to watch her.
"You must stay
awake."
"No."
"It is your
turn." He shook her slightly.
She opened her eyes a
bit. His face was resolute, determined
to keep her from sleeping. She looked
away.
"Christine."
Fine, she thought. Let's get this over with. "Have you ever been in love?"
His expression, which had
been almost relaxed, tightened and he looked away.
"Fine, if you won't
answer, then let me sleep."
He was turning her to face
him as he said, "That is not the action you stipulated when we
started."
Before she could react, his
mouth was on hers. She expected a
perfunctory touching of skin and then a quick retreat, but he lingered,
touching her cracked lips very gently with his own and curling one hand behind
her neck. She allowed her own arm to wrap
around his neck. Her hand touched his
skin and he flinched. He hates this, she
realized. She pulled back abruptly and
scooted away from him.
"Christine."
"I'm sorry," she
said brokenly as she backed up even more.
"I didn't mean to make you--"
Her words were cut off by the
sudden boom of laser artillery hitting just outside. Spock was there immediately, holding her,
sheltering her as the next shot took out the side of the building. A cloud of dust erupted. He pulled her head against his chest and
buried his face in her neck. Despite the
buffer, she started to cough.
Another hit took out the
other side of the shelter. Spock pulled
her up. "We cannot stay
here."
She was too tired to
move. "Spock--"
He silenced her with a fierce
kiss before saying, "Do not tell me you cannot," and dragging her
back out into the desert.
She forced her feet to move,
to run. Pain erupted down her side and
she realized that she'd been hit by a piece of flying rubble. "Spock..." she gasped, as she lost her
balance.
He put his hand on her waist
to pull her back up, making her gasp in pain.
When he pulled away, his hand was covered in blood.
She couldn't breathe. Sucking in air desperately, she looked at him
and shook her head. "Go."
"I will not leave
you."
"Either you make it to
safety without me, or we both die here.
Where is the logic in that, Spock?"
He knelt beside her, reaching
out to touch her cheek. "I find
that logic has deserted me."
She could barely see
him. "You mean too much to me to
die. Please go."
His voice was gentle as he
said, "I will not."
She couldn't speak anymore,
could barely feel him take her hand in his.
"I'm sorry," she tried to say.
No words came out. There was only
blackness.
She was nothing, and
nowhere. Then there was light and she
could see Spock. He was leaning over
her. She was dead? A searchlight lit up the sand and as Spock
glared at the descending ship she could tell by his expression that he was
angry. Did he feel that for her? Then his expression changed at the same
moment that she realized that the ship was one of their own shuttles. McCoy ran out and took her readings.
It's too late, she thought,
even as she felt something tugging at her.
Then there was only blackness again.
She awoke in sickbay. "How do you feel?" McCoy sounded relieved.
She tried a small smile, was
relieved when her lips didn't split.
"Like a ton of bricks fell on me."
"Not a ton, from what
Spock told us, but enough." He
touched her side and made a satisfied noise when she didn't react to his
probing. "It's healing
nicely."
"Thanks, Leonard."
"You get some rest now,
young lady."
She smiled. "Yes, doctor."
He leaned down. "You had us worried." He gave her a strange look.
"What?"
He smiled. "You had some people _really_
worried." When she looked at him in
confusion, he patted her hand. "Get
some sleep, Christine."
The next time she woke up,
Sickbay was quiet, the lights dimmed to allow her to rest. She rolled over and realized that Spock was
sitting next to her bed.
"You are well?"
She nodded.
"I am..."--he
seemed to search for the right word--"relieved."
She smiled gently. "All that work saving me would have been
for nothing if I'd gone and died on you."
He leaned forward. "You did die on me."
"I remember some of
that."
"Fortunately, Mister
Sulu is an excellent pilot. The rescue
party made it just in time."
"Good thing."
He nodded seriously. "Indeed."
He sat watching her and she
felt unnerved, unsure what to say to him.
Finally he rose. She reached out
and touched his arm. "I appreciate
what you did for me down there, Spock.
And what we talked about...I know you were just trying to keep me
awake. We can forget it ever
happened."
He seemed to consider
that. "I find that an unacceptable
suggestion."
It was not the answer she had
expected.
He leaned down, his lips mere
inches from her ear. "I would like
to continue that talk when you are recovered.
I believe it was my turn to ask a question."
She just nodded.
"Excellent. I look forward to it." She felt the lightest touch of something--his
lips?--on her cheek, then he stood up.
She could have sworn his eyes sparkled as he said, "I shall
endeavor to think of questions you will not want to answer. The alternative was quite stimulating."
She was too shocked to do
more than nod again.
He began to walk away, then
said over his shoulder. "Perhaps
you should also begin to compile a list of questions that I would prefer not to
answer."
"I'll get right on
that," she said with a laugh.
McCoy came out of his
office. "Are you disturbing my
patient, Mister Spock?"
"I do not know. Am I disturbing you, Nurse?"
She somehow managed to keep a
straight face as she said, "Not at all.
Mister Spock was just telling me of a project he may need help
with."
"Indeed. Nurse Chapel's assistance will be highly
appreciated."
McCoy gave him a disappointed
look and muttered as he walked away, "I bring this woman back from the
dead and all you can think about is work?"
FIN