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) 2001 by Djinn. This story is Rated PG-13.
Extreme Unction
by Djinn
"Aren't you going to
wish me happy Mother's Day, Christine?"
Bitter laughter echoed into the small room.
Christine Chapel, sitting on
the bathroom floor, didn't seem to hear it.
"I guess not. Well, no great surprise." An older woman moved out of the doorway,
wandered into the connecting bedroom.
"I'm sure Fiona Mercer Chapel is the last person you want to see
right about now."
Fiona tried to pick up a
small holo, but her hand went through it. "Damn.
You'd think after all this time I'd have figured this out." She concentrated and reached out again. For a second her fingers seemed to grasp the
frame then her hand again fell through.
In disgust, she crouched down to better study the picture. It was of her daughter, only much younger,
and an older man. Both were smiling.
"The
love of your life, Christine?" Fiona glanced back at the woman on the
floor. "Or just the prettily tragic
story you present to the world?"
Christine shifted a bit, as
if thinking about getting up. Her hand
reached for the sink, held for a second, then dropped. A tear fell down her cheek, joining the
traces of many others.
Fiona sniffed
derisively. "You never cried like
that for Roger Korby.
Not ever. Your beloved fiancé
never rated such emotion." She went
to stand in the doorway.
Her movement caught her
daughter's attention. Christine tried to
focus on the door but it was clear she could not see anyone standing
there. Her eyes moved across the room,
searching.
"Oh and I do know how
you mourned him. They let us come back,
you know. To see how you're doing. And I was actually worried about you. Thought you might be hurting. Ever the fool. I should have known better than to fret over
a girl that has ice water instead of blood running through her."
Fiona bent over and waved a
hand in front of Christine's face. The
eyes, staring dully, did not react.
"It'll be a while, love.
What shall we talk about in the meantime? We could talk about him, the other one? Or not." She turned suddenly and strode back into the
bedroom. "Any trace of him in
here?" The stark spotless room
yielded no secrets.
"No. Don't see him." She walked back angrily to her daughter. "He's in here though, isn't he?" She tapped Christine's chest. Her finger made contact. Fiona smiled.
"Strong emotion on my part makes me more tangible." She studied her daughter's slack face. "Or maybe that's not it at all."
For the first time
Christine's mouth moved.
"Spock," she moaned.
"Oh you're making
progress, child." Fiona settled
herself on the floor across from Christine.
"You really should have stayed with him."
"Couldn't," the
other woman whispered.
"Wouldn't," her
mother corrected. "Too
damn scared." She shook her
head in sadness. "He would have
loved you. You could have loved
him."
"I'm not like
you." Christine's voice seemed
stronger even as her body awkwardly slid sideways.
"More like me than you
know," her mother noted as she watched her daughter slump closer to the
floor. "It can't have been easy,
running away from him then having him turn up again on your ship. To have to interact with
him. To know again in your dreams
the way his mind felt when it touched yours.
Don't deny it, daughter. You were
happy to see him. Happier
than you expected."
"Just
surprised to see him." Christine's voice echoed forcefully.
"Surprised,
my ass. You were excited, elated, all those hearty
emotions you used to despise so much in me." Fiona's expression darkened. "Not that you didn't have reason. Your father and I took our passion for each
other to extremes."
"Noisy
fighting all the time."
"Yes. Or noisy making up. I never knew which you hated more."
"Hated
them both. Hated you." Christine's voice trailed off as her eyes
closed. She lay quietly on the cold
floor.
"I'm well aware of that,
Christine." Fiona closed her own
eyes in pain. "But you didn't hate
Spock. Not for long."
"He invaded my
privacy." Christine's eyes opened
suddenly. They were clear and focused as
she pushed herself off of the floor.
Fiona watched as her daughter
walked into the bedroom. "Sure he
did," she agreed. "But
afterward, after you ran. You regretted
it."
"Not often. I had my studies."
"Yes and you did
well." Fiona rose and joined her
daughter in the bedroom. "I watched
you graduate. I was very proud."
For a moment Christine's eyes
softened. Then she turned away. "I didn't really love him."
Again the
bitter laughter. "Now that I might
believe. I've never been sure you
were even capable of love."
"I can love. I just didn't love him."
"Ah. So it didn't bother you in the least that
when he came back he ignored you completely?"
"I never noticed."
Her mother laughed. "Of course not."
"I didn't. And even if I had. He didn't ignore me forever."
"No he didn't. Things changed."
Christine expression grew
wistful. "Yes. At the end. He came around."
"He loved you."
"We made plans. It could have worked." Christine's voice was defiant.
"Probably."
"I learned to love
him."
Fiona nodded. "Most
definitely."
Christine fell silent. She sat slowly on the bed. "It could have worked."
"If
not for his untimely death."
Christine closed her eyes,
lost in the pain.
"He came back
though," her mother prompted gently.
"Not the same."
"He might have
remembered."
"He does not want
to." Despair was clear in
Christine's voice. "I saw him after
the whale probe. He didn't know
me."
"You gave him no
time."
Christine hugged her arms
tightly around herself. "I saw him
later that day. In the
hall. Alone. No others to distract him. He did not wish to speak to me."
Fiona shrugged. "Perhaps he was on his way somewhere
else."
Christine's smile was
ugly. "Oh yes. To her. The young Vulcan woman who
met us at his door."
"His
protégé."
"His
lover."
"You are jumping to
conclusions."
Christine rose and paced in
agitation. "It is the only logical
conclusion."
"Irony,
daughter?"
"Truth." Christine's
voice rose.
Her mother smiled. "Witness the passion now. So strong. So out of control. So dangerous."
"Dangerous
how?"
"You are your mother's
child, Christine. You try to deny it,
try to control it. But we are passionate
people. And passion makes us do stupid
things. Fatally stupid
things." Her voice dropped
at the last.
Christine sat back down,
looked her mother in the eye. "What
do you mean?"
"The aircar accident. The one that killed your
father and me. It wasn't an
accident."
"I don't
understand? Of course it was an
accident."
"As much as we are
alike, you are also your father's daughter.
You hated the fighting and the yelling.
So did he...eventually. It wore on him, tore him up, until all that
was left was a desperate need to escape, to find some sort of peace. He was leaving me."
"What?" Christine's voice held horror.
"That day we had our
last fight. At the end he said, 'No
more,' and he told me he was leaving. On
the way home we were silent. And in the
quiet my anger turned to hatred and my passion to suspicion. I couldn't believe he'd just leave me. There had to be someone else. I couldn't bear the thought of losing him to
another woman. I panicked. I went for the controls...caused the car to
crash. I killed us both."
Christine sat stunned. Finally she looked at her mother. Saw the person she had always and never
really known. She turned away. "Fatally stupid," she repeated.
"Yes, my dearest
child."
Something in her mother's
voice caused Christine to follow the other woman's gaze back to the bathroom
floor.
A body lay there.
"Oh my
god. We've got to get help." Her medical training kicked in as she rushed
over. She stopped cold as the face came
into view. Her face. "No."
Fiona was behind her. "You loved him."
"No." Christine fell to her knees, tried to shake
the body but could not make contact.
"No, no, no, no!" She
hit her own thighs on the body she now wore, felt her hands make contact. She hit again. And again. Harder. "No!
So stupid.
So damn stupid."
Her mother's hands stopped
the pummeling, pulled Christine around to look at her. "Stop it! It's over.
It's done. Stop it."
"No. I want another chance."
"There aren't any. Not for that body. You're a doctor, Christine. You knew exactly what to take."
"Spock got another
chance."
"You both did. And you threw it away." Her voice held no condemnation, just infinite
compassion.
"No." Christine's moan was pitiful. She tried again to touch the body.
"Leave it,
child." Fiona pulled her daughter
up. "It's time to go home."
"Home?" Christine was
suddenly filled with longing for a place she was starting to remember. "I really killed myself?" She shook her head as if trying to clear
it. "I remember wanting to do it,
but now all I feel is regret that I wasted a life."
"It's done now. You'll have plenty of time to reassess. Just as I did."
"I don't want to
go."
"You can't stay
here."
"Not
here, no. I want to be with Spock."
"You can't touch
him. He won't see or hear you."
Christine smiled
bitterly. "There was a time when
that would have been our normal interaction."
Her mother frowned. "You'll be happier with me. Back there where we come
from. Staying here will only
hurt."
Christine took her mother in
her arms. "Maybe that's exactly
what I need...to let myself feel something." She hugged Fiona close. "I ran away rather than let anyone hurt
me. I think it's time to lower my
shields." She smiled gently at her
joke.
Her mother nodded
finally. "I won't try to change
your mind. But if you need help, all you
have to do is think of me and I'll come.
And if you get tired of being here, just concentrate very hard on coming
home and you'll be there."
Fiona wrapped her arms more
tightly around her daughter. "I
know I made your childhood miserable, Christine. And I can't tell you how sorry I am about
that. I just want you to know that I
love you. It may not have been very
apparent but I always have loved you.
And I always will."
Christine let herself sink
into her mother's embrace. Felt a safety
she had never known as a child. "I
love you, Mom." The words were new
and sweet to her lips.
They stayed like that for a
long time. Finally Fiona pulled
away. She took several steps back and
smiled. "Just think of where you
want to be, Christine, and you'll get there."
Christine nodded. "I will.
Thank you for coming to me."
"Of course I came. You think I'd leave this for someone
else?" She began to fade.
Christine grinned. "Oh and Mom?"
Fiona raised her eyebrows.
"Happy
Mother's Day."
She was treated to a dazzling
smile just before the woman disappeared.
Christine realized that she could still feel her mother's love around
her. Always and never alone, she thought. That's how it might have been with him...with
Spock.
She knew where she wanted to
be. This wouldn't be easy nor would it
be free of pain. But somehow it felt
like the right thing to do.
Surrendering to her lonely
fate, she filled her mind with thoughts of him and spoke his name with a love
she had never shown him while alive, "Spock."
FIN