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)
2018 by Djinn. This story is Rated R.
From Unexpected Places
By
Djinn
You're
keyed up, sitting in the lounge with no one to talk to. Ny went to bed long ago,
Len's off with a new conquest, and you're not in the mood to chat up Chekov or
Scotty.
"You're
waiting," a husky voice, the sound of your savior—the captain who
convinced you to give up ops and come back to the Enterprise.
"Waiting?
For you, Jim?"
"Nope."
He motions the crewman playing bartender over and orders the same single malt
he had in the officer's club when he pitched you this opportunity. "For an
emergency."
"Pretty
sure those are your department now."
"And
therein lies the problem." He holds up his glass and waits until you touch
yours to it to say, "I went through this when I left the ship the first
time and took a desk job. I kept...waiting for something to happen." His
smile is gentle, and you realize he's right, that you were in emergency ops for
so long you're not sure how to really just...turn off for the night.
No
one's going to comm you in the middle of a dinner, or
a date, or a deep desperate sleep.
Unless there's a shipwide
emergency.
But then everyone's going to get commed.
You're
in a science billet now. You don't even have to worry about patients. Just...theoretical stuff. It's...
It's
not boring. It's just really different and happens at such a different pace. And
it's been years since you did this. Since miniscule changes
mattered this much.
"What
are you drinking?" he asks.
"I'm
not even sure. I just asked for something strong in the whiskey family."
He
laughs and tells the bartender to get you what he's having. "So, Commander
Chapel, how is it being back aboard my ship?"
"It's
different." You study him and see the disappointment in your answer so you
grin and say, "You didn't let me finish. And it's like coming home."
"That's
what I wanted to hear." He spins his stool so he's facing out, taking in
the lay of the lounge. "I missed this when I was retired. So much. But...what
did it take to get it?"
You
know about his son. Len and Ny both told you versions. You've never heard it
directly from him, though. "I'm sorry. Truly."
"I
got Spock back. But lost my boy—and his mother. We were..." He takes
a sip, his eyes narrowing.
"You
were...?"
"I
foolishly thought I was going to get my family back. Decades
too late but finally. Carol was...open to trying. Until I got our son
killed."
"You
didn't get him killed."
He
waves away the correction.
"No,
Jim, I know what happened. That may be a closed file but some of us saw. Some
of us know."
He
nods but his smile is tight. "He was a lot like me. Took shortcuts." He
takes a long sip. "Cheated."
"Now
you're talking about the protomatter, aren't
you?"
"Dead
subject."
"Yes,
it is. The Genesis device is too dangerous, so they quarantined the subject. So
most people don't talk about protomatter because they
don't even know about it. But for those of us who do, those of us who also
understand the science behind it, well...it did work."
He
looks at you, a question on his face.
"The
device went off in a nebula. The base matter was unstable. It was always going
to revert. Had it been a planet that met the original criteria..."
"It
would have worked." He frowns. "Carol must know this."
"I'm
sure she does. But if she's not allowed to play with it anymore, how likely is
she to make it easier for someone else to run with her project?" You make
a face. "I know her by reputation, Jim. She guards ferociously. Everything
she considers hers."
He
nods. Then he turns to meet your eyes. "But you know. So why doesn't Starfleet?
You didn't tell them?"
"You
saw what happened. We're not ready for that. Roger used to repeat Oppenheimer
ad nauseam to us when we were headlong in discovery, not thinking of
consequences. 'Now I am become death, the destroyer of worlds.' I don't want to
become that. Someday, in the future, when we're ready, protomatter
will be used again. I'm sure of it."
His
smile is gentle. "Roger should have told that to himself before he tried
to replace me with an android." Shaking his head, he laughs softly. "See,
you're being nice and I say that. I'm on edge, too."
"Anything
I can do?"
"Antonia's
handling the sale of our cabin. It's this gorgeous place, up in the sierras.
She keeps sending me stuff to sign. It's...got me cranky, I guess. Losing that
place."
"I'm
sorry." You're not sure what to say. You heard about the woman from all
your friends. Gorgeous. Sweet. But ultimately not enough to
hold him and not willing to share him with the stars.
What
was it with the women he picked? He's in Starfleet. What part about space being
part of the job is unclear?
"So,"
he says with a laugh, "aren't you glad I wandered over here to cheer you
up?"
"Actually,
yes. I've always felt like you understand me. And you never tease me about
Spock."
"He
interested?"
"Not
a bit."
"Eh.
His loss."
"Damn
strait, toots."
His
grin is gorgeous. "Another round?"
"Why
not?"
##
"Have
I told you how glad I am to have you back?" Ny's
sitting on your bed, legs curled up under her. You think it's unfair how little
she's aged over the years.
"You
have. But say it again. I don't mind hearing it."
"Well,
I am." She holds out her glass and you pour her some more of the Jevendian liqueur you both fell in love with on the first
voyage. "Mmm, this is so good. We need to get
Jan up here."
"Yeah,
that's not going to happen. Not so long as our beloved captain sticks to his
policy about the crew being off limits."
Ny
leans back, sighing dramatically, and you laugh. "I think he's going to be
getting together with Gillian. The woman who helped us with the whales."
"I
know who Gillian is. I sat with her at the hearing. So did Jan. She seems okay."
"Sure
she is. Off on a science vessel instead of taking care of George and
Gracie—doesn't she realize how important they are? If that probe comes back...
Anyway, how in the hell does she rate a science posting?"
You
start to laugh.
"What's
so damn funny?"
"It's
not a science vessel. It's Science Vessel.
Remedial training. She's not even really Starfleet." Roger used to make
jokes about sending you to the ship when you screwed up something.
"Ohhh. Well, that makes a lot more sense. But still, don't
you think she should've stayed with the whales? I mean she hitched a ride
because none of us knew anything about humpbacks. Then she just leaves
them?"
"Are
you annoyed with her on behalf of the humpbacks or because Jim's seeing
her?"
"The
former. He can see who he wants." She shakes her head at you. "I'm
with Scotty, remember?"
It's
actually hard for you to remember that because you really don't get it. Scotty's
a genius with an engine, but you've never considered him someone you'd want to
date. But Ny seems happy and he's devoted to her. "Things going okay with
him?"
"They
are." She shakes her head slightly, the earrings she's wearing sparkling
prettily even in the low light. "He got me these."
"Generous
and smart."
"Yep,
he's a keeper."
You
think she's saying that as if she's trying to convince herself as much as you. You
don't point that out.
"You're
with Jim a lot." She sounds like she's fishing.
"Yeah,
he's fun to talk to."
"But
you're still interested in Spock, right?"
You
roll your eyes. "Interested, maybe. Chasing him, hell no. I've lived that
life once already."
"He
might be open to it. He's been through a lot. That can change a person."
"Yes,
being reborn will change a person." You laugh at her expression. "Do
you want me to be that Christine again? The one that whines about him not
loving me?"
"No,
but I think you should at least explore the possibility. I might if I wasn't otherwise
engaged."
"Mmm hmm." You find yourself yawning, not because she's
boring you, but because you're finally settling down—and into this new
routine.
A routine blessedly free of constant emergencies.
"I
think I need to hit the rack," you say after another yawn hits.
She
downs her drink. "I can't believe you're finally going to beat me to bed
for once. I was a little worried that you weren't sleeping at all. You took a
lot of stims in ops, didn't you?"
"On
occasion. We all did. But it's not like we lived on them." And you haven't
taken any since you reported in and don't miss them.
"Well,
whatever the reason, you seem like the Christine I used to know. Not someone
always looking like a flitter was about to run her over."
You
decide not to tell her that more than one person in ops has
been hit by flitters because they were exhausted or refused to stop
trying to help someone in time to get out of the way. Instead, you just smile
as she hands you her glass and leaves you in peace.
##
You
sit across from Spock. He's behind his desk and you're in the visitor seat. You're
unsure why he wanted to see you.
It's
not to woo you, that's for sure. Assessing your
feelings, you aren't terribly disappointed.
You
think he might want you to fill in the silence, but you've learned not to. So
you sit, trying to keep the look on your face expectant, not impatient.
Finally,
he says, "As you know, I am in charge of the science section
personnel."
As
first officer, he's in charge of everyone else, too. You don't say that. "Yes,
sir."
"I
have had good reports of you."
That's
funny, since you've done very little by ops standards. "Good," you
settle for saying.
"I
believe, however, you are perhaps not as challenged as you could be."
Is
he saying you're slacking off? He's right, you are. But is he really saying
that? "Sir?"
"Commander
Wilson is leaving."
"Oh."
Your boss. The head of life
sciences. "And you think I..."
"I
do. Jim agrees. Do you want this position, Christine?"
Christine.
Your first name. But he's still so stiff. "Yes,
Spock, I do." He doesn't flinch at your use of his name without the
"Mister" you always slapped at the start in the past. Then again,
you're going to be one of his section chiefs, so why would he? "Do you
want me to want this position?"
He
seems to understand what you're saying. "Yes. What you are doing now is a
waste of resources."
"I
don't disagree." You narrow your eyes. "Was this the plan? Because
I've come to realize this posting I'm in now was never going to fulfill
me."
"The
captain and I both tend toward the long view."
"Were
you going to let me in on the plan?" You're irritated and you aren't sure
why. This is how things happen. People plan subordinates' futures all the time
based on needs and potential and history.
"I
believe that is what I'm doing." He lifts an eyebrow.
"And
I'm being a jerk about it. Sorry." You lean in. "Yes, I'd like the
position. Thank you for your faith in me."
"Christine,
my father speaks very highly of your performance on missions he has shared with
you. He does not bestow praise lightly."
"Maybe
I'm just good with Vulcans?"
He
gives you a dubious look.
"Maybe
I'm just good with that Vulcan." You can't help it; you laugh. "Can
we start this over? I think I've hit rock bottom and have begun to dig."
His
expression lightens. "Our history has been...complicated. We will learn to
relate in perhaps a more uncomplicated manner this time?"
"Yes.
I would like that."
"As
would I. Dismissed, Commander."
##
You
see Jim in the mess and stride over with your tray. "This seat
taken?"
He
laughs. "Given the expression on your face, I'd like to say yes." But
he waves you down.
You
sit and take the time to get the things you don't want off your sandwich and
the things you do want in.
"Wouldn't
it be easier to just order it the way you want?"
"You'd
think so, wouldn't you? But it's not. Trust me." You see he's eying your
tomatoes. "You want?"
He
nods and you push them onto his plate, then add the
cheese you order extra to the sandwich.
"Why
not just order a bacon and cheese sandwich with lettuce instead of a BLT and
then go through all this?"
"Different
bacon. Not sure why—maybe because a BLT is simpler and calls for higher
quality meat. I just know this bacon is better." You sigh happily at the
first bite. "So, Spock talked to me."
"Ah.
That's what that look was. Are you going to take the job?"
"Of
course I'm going to take the job. But why didn't you tell me you wanted me for
that job."
"It's
going to sound stupid. Spock basically told me it was idiotic, when I told him
not to let on to you the position was coming open and you were our first
choice."
You
wait.
"You
left my ship twice, Chris. I wanted to think you were coming back because you
like it here, that you like the way I run a ship. I didn't want you returning
solely for a really good job." He shrugs and gives the smile that could
charm the birds out of the sky.
"Are
you that insecure?"
His
smile changes to an amused one. "That's your response? You're supposed to
be touched." He points at the pickle on your plate. "You going to eat
that?"
"No.
Go for it."
He
spears it with his fork. "Anyway, that's the actual truth. I wanted you
here for me and for your friends and because this is a really good ship. Because
somewhere in you is loyalty. Not because you're ambitious. But if you are
ambitious, that's fine—I like it, in fact." He grins. "Told you
it wouldn't make a lot of sense."
"It
does, actually. So much of my early success was tied to Roger. I was never sure
how much of what I got was due to me and how much was his championing of me. You
were the first person after he disappeared to just...believe in me."
"You
were convincing." His eyes are gentle. "And your story was
compelling. Lost love. How could I not?"
"Some
captains would have told me love and career are two different things."
"Well
then you picked the right guy to snooker, toots." He laughs. "So are
we okay?"
"Of
course we're okay. It's a fantastic opportunity."
"Glad
we got that settled, then." He's staring at your sandwich. "I'm going
to test your theory about the bacon being different. You know that,
right?"
"I
have no doubt you will."
##
"Well,
you don't look very happy for someone who just saw a newish flame." You
sit and motion for the bartender to bring you what Jim's having. It's a
testament to how often you've done this that the barkeep doesn't even look to
Jim for confirmation he can go into the special stock. "So, Jim, what
gives?"
He
doesn't answer, just keeps drinking. His expression is the one you've come to
characterize as pissy.
"Gillian
a no show?"
"No.
She showed."
You
frown. "You chicken out? Couldn't land the girl? You?"
He
laughs. "No. I got the job done."
You
sit quietly, nursing your drink, enjoying how good his favorite scotch is, and
he finally says, "Sometimes connections are situation specific."
You
don't say anything, just lean on your elbow in an "I'm all ears" way.
"It's
that feeling when you know there was a spark. You know it. And you're glad to see each other. And the sex is...fine. But..."
He sighs. "But there's so little communicating going on that it's not
really fine. Whatever chemistry you had when you were trying to accomplish a
joint endeavor is gone."
"Was
it just you, or her, too?"
"Oh,
her, too. We agreed not to give it another try."
"I'm
sorry. And I completely understand. We had an acronym for it in ops. EHUs."
He
mirrors your position, stretching his elbow out and leaning on his hand. "EHUs?"
"Emergency
Hook Ups. Fun at the time. But at the end just a big
old 'What the hell was I thinking?'"
He
starts to laugh, his normal charm reasserting itself as his grin comes back. "I
like it. I might use it."
"You
can." You study him. "I wish..."
"You
wish what?"
"That
I'd heard about it from you before the fact. Not from Len when I asked where
you were." You don't tell him you heard it from Ny before that—he
has no need to know what you two talk about. "I mean...we've been spending
time. I taught you about the great bacon workaround."
He
laughs. "You were right about that."
"Never
doubt me and bacon. So, I guess—friends tell friends things, right?"
He
doesn't look away, even seems to be assessing you. "It felt weird to tell
you."
"Weird
how? Like I'd judge?"
"No."
He sighs. "Weird I don't know. Just weird."
"Hmmm.
I recognize we're new friends, and I have no need to know your business. But..."
You look away. "I wanted to know."
He
doesn't say anything as he cocks his head and studies you, his expression one
you can't interpret, but he doesn't look annoyed.
"Jim,
maybe now is when you tell me to back off, grab a little of that ops
professionalism you liked so much before you brought me on board, and remember
you're my captain first."
"I
am your captain first. But backing off? No, don't do that."
"I
could read that a lot of ways."
He
starts to smile, a one-sided smirk that you decide you like because it's good
natured and amused rather than creepy. "I like you. I'm glad you're here
to help me bury my hopes around this."
"Hopes,
huh? How far did you think you and Gillian were going to go?"
"I
don't know. Farther than we did." He puts his head down on his arm. "I
have shitty luck, Chris."
"My
romantic resume isn't exactly a 'how to' manual, either, Jim." You set
your hand on his back for a moment and feel him press back into your touch. "I'm
going to leave you. I'm beat." And you think it's safer to go. Because you
know his rules and you don't want to start feeling things that can't go
anywhere.
"Good
night, Chris." He throws back his drink and calls for another
You
leave him to it.
##
You
make your way to sickbay. You've been enlisted as temporary staff during this shipwide epidemic and you're dead on your feet.
Len
looks up as you come in. He looks like shit. You know you do, too. "All
done?"
You
nod and collapse into one of the chairs that's been moved into the main bay.
"You're
still the fastest hypo in the west." He grins. "LaNella
and Sanvok haven't finished yet."
"Yay,
me."
He
walks over. "One more shot and then I want you to collapse."
You
nod. "Who's the victim?"
"Our
esteemed captain." At your face, he laughs softly. "It hasn't escaped
my notice that you two spend quite a lot of time at the bar. He'll listen to
you—hell, I listen to you and I'm the world's worst patient."
You
hold out your hand for the hypo he's filled.
"Try
and get him off the bridge and to his quarters because he needs sleep—I
may have added a cough suppressant that will definitely cause drowsiness. Spock's
fine; he's got it under control."
"As
we'd expect from our first officer."
"You
seem over him. You're too tired to be cagey about liking him, and there's no
rise out of you when I mention him."
"Even
I can grow up, Len." You force yourself to your feet and head for the
lift, riding it to the bridge. Jim smiles when he sees you.
Spock
actually looks relieved and stares pointedly at Jim as if you don't know who you're there for.
"You
look like crap," Jim says when you're close enough for the words to be
just between you—and probably Spock. Damn Vulcan hearing.
"Thank
you," you say just as softly. "I'd return the favor, but even sick
you look like a god."
He
grins, but it's an exhausted one.
"What
say you give Spock the conn, and we mosey on down to your place where I'll
shoot you full of antiviral goodness?" You're trying for funny but you're
too damn tired, trying and failing to hold back a yawn.
And
that seems to be the thing that gets him moving. "Spock—"
"Aye,
Captain." He doesn't even let Jim finish, just nods to you as he takes the
chair. "Commander."
"He
wanted me gone hours ago." Jim sags against the wall of the lift. "Damn,
I'm beat."
"Me,
too." You want nothing more than to sink to the floor of the lift and curl
up and sleep for days. But that would be stupid and who knows what's on the
floor.
You
follow Jim out of the lift and to his quarters, and he's wearing the uniform
shirt you really like, the white one that shows off his arms, so you can just
give him the shot without having to roll up long sleeves.
"You
really are exhausted," he says softly.
You
nod, suddenly too tired to form words. The walk back to your quarters seems
endless.
He
steers you to his personal area, pushes back the cover, tells you to take your
boots off, and leaves you to crawl into his bed while he uses the bathroom.
When
he comes out, you're still sitting on it. "I shouldn't sleep here."
"Then,
don't. But I'm not rescuing you if you only get halfway to your quarters."
You
figure both of you are too tired for something to happen that would damage your
friendship, so you crawl into the bed and roll to your side.
He
gets in and pulls the covers over you, staying carefully, you think, on his
side of the bed.
You're
out in moments. When you wake, Jim is spooning you, and you think how nice it
feels to be this way with him.
And
then you fall asleep again and the next time you wake up, Jim's out of bed and
sitting at his desk working.
"Sorry,"
you say, as you free yourself from the covers. "I should have been out of
here already."
"Don't
be silly. You needed the sleep." He looks up at you, as you try to decide
what your next move should be. Then he smiles. "You're pretty when you
wake up."
You're
relatively certain the small amount of makeup you dashed on the day before is
smeared all over your face. "You're obviously an easy grader."
"Actually,
I'm not."
You
know you're blushing. "I'm going to go. Have a job to get back to."
"Are
you still tired?"
"Yeah."
"Then
go back to your quarters and sleep. If Spock has a problem with that, tell him
his boss said it was okay."
"I
will if you'll stay in here and rest."
"I
was just about to crawl back into bed." He's not looking at you as he says
it, but you feel the words landing heavily in the space between you.
"Okay,
I'm going now."
"Right."
He looks up and studies you. 'I'm really glad you came back here, Chris. To the ship. To...me."
"Me,
too." Then you flee before you lose your mind and crawl back into his bed
with him.
##
You're
sitting with Ny and Scotty, trying to figure out if she's really in love with
him. They remind you of high school, after someone you weren't already dating
asked you to prom, and you felt compelled to act like there was more than just
a dance between you. For a week or maybe two there was the weird waltz of
"We like each other" until you realize you didn't want to be anything
more than friends, and everything went back to normal.
Except
it's been a while, and she's still with Scotty.
"Lass,
are you glad to be back on the finest ship in the Fleet?" Scotty's well into his cups.
"Oh,
am I on Excelsior?" You laugh at
his expression. "Kidding. Of course, I am. Best ship, best crew, best
captain."
"Aye,
you've got that right." He gets up. "Another round,
on me."
You
nod but Ny says, "I'm switching to ginger ale."
Once
he's out of earshot, she leans in. "So, what's going on?"
You
hate loaded questions like that. She's a pro at it. You used to fall for it. General
probing becoming an actual issue once you address something for her to latch
onto. So now you just say, "With what?"
"With
you?"
You
almost laugh. She's so good at this. "What do you mean?"
"Christine.
I was on the bridge the other night when you got the captain to finally
rest."
"Oh,
God, Ny, I'm sorry. I was exhausted. Len sent me up to
get him and that was all I could see. I just wanted to collapse and
sleep." Not a lie. And you did just that—just not in your bed.
"You
saw Spock, too. Just not me or Sulu. I guess you're
used to that now? The brass are more interesting than
us regular folks?"
She
thinks you're brown nosing? You suppose that's better than her knowing you
spent the night with the guy who supposedly doesn't do that sort of thing. "I
was wrecked, Ny. I'm sorry I didn't see you. It wasn't because of their rank. I
just wanted to make sure Spock was doing all right before I left."
She
smirks, but this is more like old times. "Now, that I believe. Speak of
the devil."
Jim
and Spock come in and head to the table with their chess
board. Spock looks single minded, but Jim scans the room, stopping when
he sees you.
His
smile is sweet. Super, duper, make-your-toes warm sweet.
"Well,
well. I know a certain blonde friend of ours who's gonna
kill you."
"He's
just making sure I'll stay on the ship this time." You roll your eyes at
her expression.
"Don't
lie to me. Do you like him? You think Scotty hasn't told me how often you end
the night drinking with the captain?"
"Of
course I like him. He's James T. Kirk. But he's not..."
Jim
looks over at you again. You think this time he might not be aware he's doing
it.
"Christine.
Please." She seems...fine with it. But she's a master of sounding calm and
composed.
"I'm
honestly not sure what's going on. But yeah, I like him. We're having fun
getting to know each other again. Talking. That's probably all this is. He'll
move on."
"You
do realize all his girlfriends have been scientists, right?"
"Not
all. There was that lawyer woman." And Miramanee,
but that wasn't Jim in his right mind. And Edith, but that seems too sad to
bring up.
"Fine.
A large percentage of his significant others have been scientists."
You
cannot argue with this statement and she laughs as you do the shrug-nod of
Chapel surrender.
Scotty
comes back with the drinks. "What did I miss?"
"Not
a thing, Sugar."
You
wonder how much they'll talk about this when they're alone.
##
The
lounge looks like a wonderland. Little lights are everywhere, some anchored,
others floating. There are flowers and even a little fountain. The dance floor
is crowded with crew in formalwear.
"Wow,
this is amazing, Ny."
She
looks smug and she should. You've never seen a lounge look better and you've
been to a lot of shindigs in your time.
"I
just wanted to dress up and dance, you know? In a magical place." She
spins to take in her handiwork—or more accurately, the vision she had
others implement. Her dress is gorgeous and pieces of crystal pick up the
light.
"Fair
lassie," Scotty says, looking dapper in his kilt. "Might I have this
and many other dances?"
She
pretends to have to think about it, then giggles as he
hustles her to the dance floor.
"I
wouldn't have seen that working, Nyota and Scotty," Len says in your ear
as he presses a glass of something amber into your hand. "But they seem
really happy."
"They
do." You take a sip. "Rye. You remembered."
"That
you're some kind of northern heathen who doesn't appreciate bourbon?"
"George
Washington made rye. He lived in Virginia. And when haven't I ever appreciated
bourbon?"
"That's
true. I just like getting digs in."
"Old
news there, Len." You study him. "No new conquest?"
"Oh,
there is. Just not here yet."
"You
ever going to settle down?"
"I
did that once, remember? She took me for all I was worth. Now, I just
play." He seems to be studying you. "I'm not the settling down kind. Unlike,
say, our captain."
You
force yourself not to react.
"I
saw you coming out of his room the other day. You were just supposed to deliver
the hypo, not..."
You
laugh. "I fell asleep—you know I was dead on my feet. It wasn't...that."
He
nods as if allowing your version into his personal reality. "But you like
him. And he likes you. I've seen the two of you chatting it up."
Your
turn so you can really see him. "What are you doing?"
"I
don't want him leaving this ship anytime soon. Not now that I have all my
marbles back and none of Spock's." He grins. "And the thing he's
lacked up to now is someone on this ship keeping him happy so he doesn't do
some fool thing like retire or take a desk job."
"Perhaps
he lacked that because he doesn't mess in his nest."
"In
the past, sure. But now? Things change." He
grins. "Why, here he comes. Want to wager on which of us he's going to ask
to dance?" He takes your glass. "Jim, she'd love to dance."
"Thanks,
Bones." He's got you by the hand, gently easing
you onto the dance floor, murmuring, "Did you want a say in this?"
"Nope,
I'm good." You laugh at his smile. God damn this
man is handsome. Why didn't you have a crush on him when you were both young?
"I
didn't expect peach to be the color you'd be wearing. But you look
beautiful."
The
dress is an old one. But it's a favorite of yours. Flattering in the way it
hides problem areas. Pleated like an old Grecian gown with ivory accents.
He
holds you like you've done this before. Dancing with him is easy and you relax
into him.
"The
captain has to dance with whoever asks, right?"
He
nods. "And find the shy ones who don't ask so they don't feel left out. I'll
be a busy man." He makes a self-sacrificing expression.
"What
you do for the mission." You squeeze his hand gently and he squeezes back.
"My loss."
"Oh,
I'll be back for you. More than once."
"Repeated
dancing might send a message you don't mean to send."
He
pulls you a little closer, his breath warm on your ear. "Who says I don't
want to send that message?"
"Why
Captain, you'll make a girl think you're serious."
"If
you were a girl, and not a woman I like very much, I wouldn't be serious."
He sighs as the music winds down. "I'd like to keep dancing with you."
"I'd
like that, too."
"I'll
see you in a while. Keep your dance card open. Consider it an order."
"Aye,
aye, sir."
You
can't see Len, so you make your way over to where Spock is standing since he's
holding a glass of what looks like rye. You assume Len saddled him with your
drink. "Are you the designated coaster?" You point to the glass.
He
hands it over. "Doctor McCoy indicated you would want this."
"He's
rarely wrong when whiskey is the subject."
"Indeed."
Spock's in a robe instead of his uniform, but looks as uncomfortable as you
remember from past voyages.
"You
learn to dance since we last served together?"
"Assuming
I do not know how to dance simply because I do not participate is an erroneous leap
in logic I would not expect from you."
"Mom
insisted you learn, huh?"
"Yes."
You
laugh. "Relax, Spock. I'm not going to proposition you or ask you to dance."
"It
is not you I am worried about, Christine. There is a young ensign in supply who
is quite determined."
You
take a long sip of your drink. Mmm, damn good stuff
Len's picked for you—you'll have to ask him what it is. You've mostly been
drinking Scotch when you and Jim are at the bar. "So I've lost my role as
your chief stalker?"
"So
it would seem." He almost sounds disappointed, but you assume that's
because his new stalker puts you to shame in the obsessed department.
"So
is this ensign male, female, or other?"
"The
latter. A Tralaxian."
"I've
heard good things about them." You laugh at his expression. "Which
I'll keep to myself."
"Thank
you. They are transferring off in a few weeks so my discomfort will be short
lived." And then he asks you about the section and how you're liking being
chief and for the next half dozen or so songs, you're content to just talk
science with him.
But
then Jim is back. "Can I steal her?"
"That
would assume that I have some sort of possession of her, Jim."
"Just
say yes, Spock." He rolls his eyes and takes your hand, pulling you back
to the dance floor, but he stops just short of it. "Should I be worried?
You liked him first." He's teasing but there's something serious in his
eyes.
And
suddenly you want nothing more than to put his mind at ease. So you opt for no
joking, no flirting, no coy misdirection and simply say, "Nope. Don't
worry."
His
grin is gorgeous as he pulls you into his arms to dance. "Damn good
answer, Chris."
##
You
take a long sip of scotch as you wait for the comm
terminal to connect you to Jan. Going through your mind is "Please don't
be mad. Please don't be mad. Please don't be mad."
"Hey,
you." She's smiling, but the smile slips as she studies you. "What's
wrong?"
"Nothing.
I'm good. You?" God, could your voice go any higher?
"Chapel,
what is it?"
She's
seen you at your best and at your worst and at every stop in between. She knows
you too well for you to hide anything from her. And she only calls you Chapel
when she's intent on getting the truth out of you.
"You
remember a long time ago when we promised if either of us ever—"
"No
way." Her voice is amused, not mad. "Kirk?"
"Nothing's
happened." You meet her eyes. "But..."
"But
it might?" She leans in. "Did you start this or did he?"
You
think about it. "He did. Well..."
"Okay,
if you don't know then it must be the real thing." She holds up a hand. "Hang
on. Let me get my drink." She disappears and then reappears with an entire
bottle of wine but no glass.
You
break out laughing.
She
grins and pulls out a glass. "Okay, so I'm only going to say this once. If
you hurt him, I'll kill you."
"If
I hurt him?"
"Yep.
I'll tell him the same thing someday too if this really becomes something. And if I ever see him. I should have been the one to
transfer. Shit."
You
laugh because she's making this so easy.
Wait,
why is she making this so easy?
"What
aren't you telling me?"
She
shrugs in that way she does when she wants you to guess.
"Jan...?"
"Okay,
fine. Remember Jack, that consultant that we both thought was super handsome
and smart and funny."
"Uh
yeah."
"Well,
we're dating. I ran into him and one thing led to another..." She smiles
and looks really happy. "So you're off the hook, lady. But man, timing is
everything, huh? Because I'd be clubbing you over the head with this bottle
otherwise."
"I'm
sorry."
"No,
you're not." She leans in. "Is he a good kisser?"
"I
don't know."
"Whaaaa-aat?"
"It's
early. We promised we'd tell the other as soon as we suspected."
"How
do you know it's anything if there's been no kissing. Or did you have sex with
no kissing? Is he against kissing? Does he have a lip phobia?"
You're
laughing so hard you can't answer.
"Seriously,
Chapel, you're off your game. Go kiss the man."
"Howzabout you let me run my romance at my speed?"
"Fine.
Be that way." She pours herself a glass of wine. "Okay, I want all
the dirt on everyone. Is Ny still with Scotty?" She makes a little face
that you think you're probably mirroring back as you nod.
You
settle in to get her up to speed on all the gossip and let her fill you in on
the ops goings on.
"I
really miss you," you say as she finishes telling a particularly funny
story about a captain you both despise.
"I
miss you, too, kid."
##
You're
in your office when you hear a soft knock on the wall and see Jim standing in
the doorway. "Come in, sir."
He
smiles and you think it's because on duty you don't use his first name. "Commander."
He sits. "I need a science officer for the upcoming signing ceremony at Fohlara. I'd like to take you."
"Spock
busy?"
"The
signing ceremony will include a barbeque that will put Bone's brisket to shame.
And as you well know, Spock doesn't eat meat."
"Durrance has been in place longer than I have."
"A
month or so, that's all. Also, he's not the most sociable of fellows."
You
try to bite back a smile and fail. The section chief of physical sciences makes
Spock look like a screaming extrovert. "Fine, I'll go."
"Good."
He doesn't get up, just sits, looking at you intently.
"Sir?"
He
stands and hits the switch that closes your door. "I'm not going to sneak
around. If we're going to pursue this."
"If?
Are you unsure?"
"I'm
not. Are you? I'm your captain. I don't want this to seem...like I'm forcing
it. You tell me to slow down or stop, and I will." He's pacing, like he's
actually worried you might feel pressured.
"I
appreciate that. But I'm enjoying spending time with you." You smile when
he turns. "I'd like to do more. But...can I ask why it's suddenly okay? It
wasn't before. Your rule was well known among the crew."
"I
suppose you got an earful from Janice?"
You
shrug—no way you're discussing her with him.
He
sits and takes a deep breath. "I lost everything, Chris. My son. My ship. Before
that my two best friends were dead or going mad. Then I had Spock back but...he
wasn't like he is now, and the rest of us were exiled on Vulcan for three
months. I was going crazy. I was sure I'd spend the rest of my days in the brig
if I ever returned."
"I
know. It's why I called Sarek for you."
"Why
did you do that for me?"
"Jim,
I know I left the ship—and you take that personally—but you
shouldn't. I cared for you. As a captain. As a man I'd
seen hurt in sickbay. As the man who lost his wife and
child—and then lost his son years later. As the
man who covered up what Roger had become. Even if I didn't think so
highly of you, I'd owe you for that alone."
He
nods and for a moment looks down. Then he starts talking again, softly. "They
didn't throw me in the brig. They gave me this ship. Again. The Enterprise. And I realized that they
weren't going to take it away—and even if they did, I'd survive it. So if
I think I've found someone really special that I want to break my rule for, I'm
going to do it."
"An
uncharitable person might say I was a rebound. From Carol, then Gillian."
"Do
you feel like a rebound?"
"You
haven't even kissed me yet."
"Exactly.
We have time, Chris. We're here, not in different spaces trying to cram a
relationship into a few shared days. I'm not rebounding. I'm exploring. Finding
out who you are. Who we are together. If this
works."
"It
would have worked better if I were still in medical." You grin to show him
you're okay that it's a little trickier now that you're not independent.
"You
have a reputation for doing what's right, even bucking the brass if it's needed
to get the job done. And you work for Spock. How much do you think I can
influence him? He's as stubborn as Bones." He takes your hand. "We
can transfer you to medical if it'll make it easier." He has a silly look
on his face and is clearly trying not to laugh.
"That's
okay. I like this job."
"Good.
It suits you. So if you're up for this outing, dress uniform at the end of
shift? I know it'll be a long day but the meal will more than make up for it. And
they hate lengthy speeches so it shouldn't be too boring."
"Even
if it is, I'll survive." After slogging through mud—or worse,
bodies—this would be a cake walk.
##
As
you hide behind a metal holding tank, you're desperately wishing you had a
phaser. "I thought you said this would be boring."
"I
thought it would be." Jim pushes you further under cover as he comms the ship. "Kirk to Enterprise. What's going on up there?"
Spock
answers. "It would seem the Klingons take issue with the signing ceremony,
sir. We are dealing with them."
"Deal
faster. Kirk out." A few more blasts come raining down from the sky, then it goes quiet. "Thank God."
You're
facing the opposite way he is and don't like what you see. "Crap, Jim,
come on!" You pull him with you and he doesn't even question, just
follows, until he must see what you do and starts to outrun you. He's pulling
wreckage from the pavilion that was erected over the signing table. A pavilion
some had taken shelter under.
You're
helping him and you see Fohlarans rushing in to help
also. Several dignitaries crawl out from the rubble, but you see another
further in and not moving. "Don't let that thing fall on me," you say
as you crawl into the space.
You
feel Jim pushing something into your hip and reach back. It's a device the Fohlarans use that seems to serve a wide range of purposes,
including a flashlight.
You
hear Jim say, "Clear this carefully," as you continue to crawl toward
the woman who is awake but clearly pinned down.
"It's
okay. I'm a doctor." You play with the device and thank whatever deity
looks after these people that science is their passion because there's a
medical scanner among other sensors. You run it over her. Her leg is crushed
and will require massive reconstruction but it's free of whatever hit her. It's
her upper torso that worries you, a beam has fallen on her side, angled up so
it's full weight isn't on her but still even partial crush injuries on vital
organs are tricky, so you want that area freed as quickly as is safe. Her head
and lower torso only seemed to be hit by small rubble. "Jim, clear the
right side first."
"Roger
that."
"Just
hold on," you tell the woman, and then back away so you can help clear the
area.
"Hell
of a first date," Jim whispers as you work next to him.
"Is
that what this is?" With a wry smile, you shake your head. "Seems
like old times. I thought I'd left this behind."
"I
know. Sorry. Although not sorry because you're the person I'd want with me for
this."
You
nod and stop gabbing, concentrating on getting the debris clear, and when they
get closer to her, you're about to crawl in but one of the Fohlarans
beats you to it. "The beam that's angled up across her?"
He
nods.
"Make
sure it doesn't come down if we loosen it—let us know if it starts to
go." Fohlarans are stronger than humans so this
isn't unreasonable to ask him to shore it up.
"Spock
to Kirk."
"Can
you get that, Chris?"
You
grab the communicator off his belt and say, "Chapel here."
"The
Klingons have been routed. Do you need assistance?"
The
man inside the rubble is calling out, and a moment later he gingerly moves the
woman to the opening.
"We're okay, Spock." You
realize that's not really your call to make, even if it feels like old times
when you were in charge, and hand the communicator to Jim with a sheepish
smile.
He
takes it with a grin, going off to talk to Spock without a lot of Fohlarans listening in, but you stay to help them with the
woman.
A
Fohlaran healer pushes through, and you introduce
yourself and brief her on what you've seen. She nods as you talk, scanning with
a device more elaborate than the all-purpose one you've been using.
"If
you don't need me...?"
"We'll
be fine. Thank you."
You
wander the area, using the device to make sure there aren't others buried but
most of you were lucky—or else the Klingons weren't trying that hard.
Although
Jim should have been under the pavilion just about when they fired along with
the Fohlaran prime minister. And they hate him after
Genesis. Maybe this was more about him and less about the accord he was
supposed to sign.
You
turn to watch him, and he seems to sense your eyes on him, glancing around as
he talks to Spock, his smile tight but still there.
You
suddenly care very much that the Klingons might want to hurt him.
He
stows his communicator and walks over to you. "I don't like your
look."
"They
could have done more damage. They were aiming for the pavilion."
"Yeah.
Must have gotten wind I was here. Never going to forgive me for stealing one of
their ships and then saving Earth with it." He gives you a breezy grin as
if this is no big deal. "I thought we'd worked out some of our issues
after Nimbus III. I guess I thought wrong." He takes your hand and pulls
you out of the way of some men with an antigrav
stretcher. "I saw you checking—anybody else hurt?"
"Nope.
I'm glad you weren't up there."
"If
the prime minister hadn't wanted to discuss a private matter, we would have
been."
"What
was his private matter?"
"If
I thought there might be a market in the Federation for a Fohlaran
spirit. It's mediocre but I find myself remembering it fondly since it was a
literal lifesaver." He takes a deep breath.
"Captain,
forgive the urgency, but I think we should dispense with ceremony and simply
sign, don't you?" The prime minister gives him a harried smile. Once Jim's
put his thumb over the signature block, the prime minister motions for a
servant holding a bottle of orange liquid to come forward. "You seemed to
enjoy this."
"Thank
you." Jim even sounds sincere.
"Unfortunately,
our food pavilion was hit during the attack. I regret there will be no meal to
enjoy."
"Another
time, then, sir. I look forward to a less exciting party the next time I'm
here."
The
man laughs softly but then his expression turns somber and he turns to his
people, hurrying away.
"Let's
get out of here." Jim takes your hand as he leads you to a spot well out
of the way of the cleanup. "Enterprise,
two to beam up."
"Two
to beam up, aye, sir."
The
familiar feel of the transporter takes you. Once out of the transporter room,
he says, "I need to get up to the bridge."
You
realize your uniform is torn—you must have caught it when you were
crawling in the rubble cave. "Do you need me?"
"No,
go get changed. I'll pop in later after I've washed off this dust." He
hands you the bottle. "See if you can figure out a way to make this better
than mediocre."
You
laugh and head for the far lift while he takes the closest one to the bridge. Once
in your quarters you strip, throw your clothes in the recycler and take a quick
shower. Then you throw on comfy sweats and a t-shirt and assess the bottle
Jim's given you.
It
smells a bit bitter, and when you pour out a bit to taste, you decide it
reminds you of the amaro your roommate in college
used to bring back from trips to Italy. It's not as bitter to taste as to
smell.
Your
chime goes off and you say, "Come." Jim comes in, hair wet, in
clothes that look as comfy as yours do. He sees you with the bottle and asks,
"What do you think?"
"I
have an idea." Also courtesy of your time in college.
You pour some rye into glasses add a third as much of the Fohlaran
spirit, then shake in some bitters and ice. "If I do this right, it should
be like a Black Manhattan."
As
you're stirring, he comes up behind you, his arms stealing around your waist. "I
knew you could come up with something." He laughs as you lean into him,
then you feel his lips on your neck.
"You're
messing with perfection, buster."
"Shut
up, I'm busy."
You
laugh and finish making the drinks, then you try one. "Mmmm."
He
turns you and you hold the drink up to him. His eyes widen
as he tastes. "That's really good."
"Oh,
ye of little faith." You share the glass because he doesn't seem inclined
to let you go, then he puts it down on the table and pulls you closer. "I
haven't kissed you yet."
"Yes,
I know. I've pointed out this sad deficiency."
"Mmmm." He's grinning. "Kiss me."
"Why
do I have to do all the work? 'Make me a drink, woman. Now, kiss me.'" But
you lean in and kiss him, trying to make it a sweet kiss, not a "tear my
clothes off this minute" one.
His
smile is a lovely thing as you ease away. He grabs the other glass and pulls
you with him to your bed, putting the drink on the nightstand—on the
coaster you have so your water bottles don't leave a ring—and urges you
onto the bed, but not to lie down. To sit up, backs against the headboard,
sharing the drink slowly. Kissing carefully.
You
think neither of you want to rush this.
And then talking. About nothing. About everything.
And
more kissing.
You
get up to make another drink because he claims to not be able to follow a
recipe, which you think is bullshit, but you don't mind. You like to play
around with cocktails and cooking. You hand him the glass and then crawl back onto
the bed.
"I
really, really like you, Jim."
"I
really, really like you, too."
Eventually,
you end up cuddled around each other, and you wake when your alarm goes off. "Someone
fell asleep here."
"Someone
doesn't care." He nuzzles your neck. "This was nice."
"It
was."
He
pulls you around and kisses you. "Dinner tonight?"
"Sure."
Then you grab his arm as he starts to get up. "More kisses."
"Oh,
fine, if you insist." His laugh is almost a giggle as he lets you pull him
back down.
You
think it's one of the best sounds you've ever heard.
##
You're
on a frontier planet, in a bar charmingly called The Last Outpost, waiting for
Len to get his butt down to the planet so you don't miss your dinner
reservation. Jim's chosen a table in the corner and sits with his back to the
wall. You chose the seat next to him and it affords you a good view of who's
coming and going.
You
bristle when you see a familiar face, and Jim seems to know it instantly.
"Who's
that Romulan?"
"Pardek."
You turn away and look at Jim. "He's in charge of Romulan support
operations."
"Support
for whom?"
"Great
question. But...humanitarian. Wow that word really
doesn't work in this case, does it?" You grin, but your smile fades as
Pardek walks over.
"Commander
Chapel. Such a pleasure to see you." He smiles less tightly at Jim. "And
you, of course, need no introduction, Captain James T. Kirk. I am Special Envoy
Pardek."
Jim
ducks his head in the kind of greeting that's respectful but not overly
friendly.
"Did
she tell you we've often run concurrent operations?" He sits without being
invited. "She's so...idealistic, this one. Thinking Starfleet's motives
are purely to help."
"You
think they're not?" Jim asks, his tone carefully neutral.
"I
think they're exactly as ours or anyone else's are. Grateful people are often
supportive people. They have good memories of who helped them. And it's no
secret that the Federation prioritizes resource-rich planets before the
poor."
"That's
not true," you say quickly, then regret letting him pull you in again. "This
is an old and boring argument."
"I
don't think so. Do you, Captain?"
Before
Jim can answer, you see Spock walk in, his eyebrow going up when he sees who you're sitting with. He walks over.
Pardek
turns to see what you're looking at and then stands. "Ah, a man I have
heard even death cannot hold. We're hard to kill, are we not, cousin?"
"We
are not related." Spock looks over at you and Jim. "Doctor McCoy has an
emergency patient. He said it was nothing for you to worry about but to go on
without him."
"You
want to come? We have an open seat?" You realize your mistake as you ask. Your
reservations are at a place that specializes in exotic meats.
"I
think not."
"Commander
Spock. Perhaps you would sit and talk with me. As you say, we are not blood
relatives, but our people do have much in common. I would enjoy...speaking of
these things with you."
Spock
looks slightly intrigued.
You're
trying to figure out how to tell Spock that Pardek's
an asshole, if a charming one, when Jim gets up. "Pardek, Spock, if you'll
excuse us, we have a dinner reservation we don't want to lose."
"It
was a pleasure to meet you," Pardek says, his charm more in evidence now,
but you think he's trying to charm Spock, not Jim.
As
Jim hustles you out, you mutter, "I don't like leaving him with that
jerk."
"Spock's
fully capable of ending any discussion that becomes unpleasant. And the bar's
full of our people. Pardek can't pull anything if you're worried that's what
this is?"
"No,
I'm—I'm not worried. He's just an ass."
"Do
you two have a history that goes beyond emergency support?"
"Ewww. No."
He
laughs. "Well, you like pointed ears."
"I
like Spock's pointed ears. Because they're part of Spock.
I don't like them categorically."
"Okay,
good."
He
holds the door for the restaurant and you enter, and immediately moan at the
tantalizing aromas coming from the kitchen and tables. "Oh, wow."
"Yeah,
never eaten here. Gets great reviews. Bones is missing out. But I don't mind
having you to myself."
"Me
either."
"Is
that why you invited Spock to join us?"
You
study him, trying to assess if he's curious or something else. But his
expression is unreadable. "We had the seat."
"We
did." He seems to let it go and checks you in at the reception desk,
letting the host know there'll be one less than you thought.
Jim
puts his arm around your waist as you wait, just a casual move, natural and
easy and you love it. You don't have long to enjoy it before the host is
gesturing for you to follow him.
The
restaurant has regular tables in the middle but set away in corners and side
halls are semi-private alcoves for two, and he leads you to one. "I hope
you don't mind not being in the main space?" His smile says he knows you
won't.
As
you settle in, you peruse the menu for a bit, then let Jim order whatever kind
of wine he wants and agree that trying a little bit of lots of things sounds
great. You lean back, enjoying having him all to yourself—and how much
fun he's having picking out the food. A sommelier brings the wine and makes
quite a production out of opening it. It's really good
wine, so you don't mind.
Once
the server leaves, he leans in. "So this Pardek. If he wasn't an...EHU, was it?"
You
nod and laugh. "Then why do I dislike him so?"
"Yeah.
Jan didn't sleep with him, did she?"
"God,
no. He's just...underhanded. And he oozes that annoying charm like butter
wouldn't melt and then you find out that say the newest pleasure drug
circulating on a world where the Romulans are also there—supposedly
providing relief—is from Romulus. The Romulans keep the prices
artificially low until the population is good and hooked. That kind of
shit." You sigh. "I've seen him gain more and more authority. Clearly
his methods are not frowned on back home." You take a deep breath. "Jan
saw him doing crap like that, too. So there's no way she'd ever say yes to him.
I think he prefers males, though, anyway. From what I've observed."
"Maybe
he has a crush on Spock?"
"Could
be. Maybe that dippy female commander wasn't so dippy. Maybe he's irresistible
to them and she couldn't help it?"
Jim
laughs. "Kinda harsh to her, isn't it?"
"Really?
I mean sure, it's no fun to be betrayed by someone you love. But she'd known
Spock for five minutes. And he was the enemy.
I'm not saying this because she was 'an emotional female.' I've seen men just
as stupid move up in Starfleet. Generally, it's a personal connection to
someone important."
He
nods, and you laugh and both say "Styles" at the same time. "How
he got the Excelsior I will never
understand, Chris."
"Me
neither. He can't stand me. Just in case you have to host him or something and
want me to make myself scarce for the duration. He made the mistake of slapping
that goddamned crop down on my desk when I was doing something more important
than listening to whatever he wanted."
Jim
starts to laugh. "Well, you're not in the brig, so you didn't sock
him."
"Nope.
But I told him where he could stick his crop and when he went in to put me on
report with Cartwright, he told him where he could stick it, too. We were
working on post whale-probe damage. We really did not have time for his petty
bullshit."
He's
grinning in a funny way.
"What?"
"I
like that you've had a life away from the ship. There's things I don't
know—facets to you I'll get to know."
"I
hope you like them." You take his hand. "I really like being back on
the ship."
"I'm
glad. Means you'll stay."
"Well,
I kind of like the captain so..." You grin at his expression.
"I've
heard"—he leans in, his eyes shining—"that the captain
kind of likes you, too."
"Really?"
He
nods.
"I'm
a lucky girl." You see servers coming with plates so you lean back and let
them set them around the table.
The
two of you abandon talking other than saying things like "Oh, God, try
this one." The food is amazing and you think Len missed out big time.
When
the plates are empty, he sits back, sighing happily. "We're going to be on
Earth for maintenance in a few weeks. I thought we could go somewhere."
"That
would be nice. Ny and I are meeting Jan for dinner but she won't be back until
the end of our leave." You see his look and smile. "She knows about
us."
"You
told her?"
"We
had a pact. If something weird happened"—you laugh at his
expression—"and she got together with Spock or you and I decided we
liked each other, we promised to tell the other."
"Very
adult of you."
"Real
friends don't hide shit from each other just because it's uncomfortable. Or she
and I don't, anyway." You're not sure Ny would do the same. Jan never
suggested you extend the pact to her, so you think she wasn't sure of Ny,
either. "As it turns out, she's dating a guy she's crazy for, so my timing
was perfect. She's fine with it."
"Good.
I'm a fan of hers—you know that, right?"
"I
do. And she's a fan of yours. In ways other than romantic." You study him.
"You could have looked her up when you left the ship the first time. Before
you married Admiral Ciani. But you didn't, did
you?"
"I
didn't. To be honest, as soon as I met Lori, I was hooked. I wasn't looking for
anything else. And then once it was over—well, I was a real son of a
bitch. You saw it. Jan deserved better—and I knew she was assigned to the
ship, so what was the point of pursuing anything?" He stops talking as
servers gather up the plates. "Dessert?"
"I'm
stuffed."
"I'll
just settle the bill." He tells the server, then presses
his finger into the pay screen the man hands him. Once you're alone again, he
asks, "Do you think Jan and I would have been a good match?"
"I
don't know." It's something you've thought about lately. "You like a
certain kind of woman, I think. I'm not sure she's it."
"Are
you saying she's not intelligent enough for me?"
"No.
Because she's whip smart. But she doesn't always know it. I think she's not...confident enough for you. In what she
knows. In who she is."
"I
think that's a fair assessment. And I do tend toward a certain type. I like my
women bright, and shrinking violets need not apply."
"What
was Antonia like?"
"She
was an outlier, I think, if you stack my women up. But she was what I was
looking for at the time. She loved horses and dogs. She was fearless and
athletic and she...adored me. She adored people, to be honest. She used to say
that I looked up and she looked out, and she was right."
"Looking
up isn't a bad thing. Especially given where we work."
"It
was to her. She grew to hate it when I looked at the stars. She took it to mean
I wanted to leave her. Eventually I did."
"Looking
up would imply you don't care about the people around you. That
you don't notice things. I think she was wrong. You see everything, Jim.
You see everything and still look up. Maybe that's hope, you know?"
He's
smiling at you sweetly. "Maybe so. You ready to go?" When you nod he
gets up and holds his hand out to you. Once you're outside, he pulls you
against him, his arm around your waist again. As you pass The Last Outpost, you
both peek in. Pardek is inside with some Romulans; Spock's nowhere to be seen.
"Either
he's back on the ship or they've kidnapped him."
"Do
you want to call him?" You laugh as you ask.
"Nyah. I have faith in his ability to identify an asshole
after a few minutes. He may seem socially inept, but he's actually a good judge
of character." Once you're in the plaza, he comms
the ship and requests beam-up. As you leave the transporter room, he murmurs,
"Stay with me tonight?"
"Big
move, Jim. Are we ready for that?"
"Well,
not to sound uninterested but I've found a big meal and overly athletic sex to
be a recipe for—"
"Heartburn."
"I
was going to say disaster. Silly me—forgot I was talking to a doctor. But
yes." He nuzzles your neck as you get on the lift. "But sleep with
me. Morning sex is nice."
"It
is."
The
lift opens and he stops at your quarters. "Do you want to grab
anything?"
You
love that he thinks that way. That he gets you might want things. "Yeah,
I'll be there in a sec." You palm your door open, and grab a few things
that you throw in a little bag, then hurry down the
hall.
You
ring the chime and instead of Jim answering, Spock comes out with Jim behind him,
holding the door open. "Christine. I trust you had a pleasant
evening?"
"I
did. Thanks." You try to hide your little bag behind your back but you
know he saw it.
But
what difference does it make? It's not like he'll care.
"You
escaped Pardek."
"A
curious individual. I am uncertain as to his motives, but he seemed intent on
making a favorable impression on me."
"He's
a jerk."
"So
I gathered from your expression. It was interesting talking to a Romulan who
did not appear to wish me ill." He raises his eyebrow in a sardonic way
and you and Jim both laugh. "I have kept you too long. Goodnight."
"Goodnight,
Spock." Jim says as he draws you into the room and lets the door close. He
pushes you up against the wall and kisses you deeply.
"Mmmmm." You reach down, feel how ready he is for you,
and ease away, walking to his work table and dropping your bag on it, then pulling
the chair out so it's facing way from the table. "Sit."
He
grins and does what you say.
You
ease over him, straddling him, and kiss him, and the way you two are touching
each other is different. Not so sweet, not so careful, not in a way that has to
be stopped.
"Staying
upright and going slow is a good way to avoid heartburn," you say between
kisses.
"I'm
all for that."
You
unfasten his pants and then he lifts you up so he can reach under your skirt
and pull your underwear off, then pushes his own down enough for you to slide
onto him.
As
you move slowly, he closes his eyes and says, "I'm going to think of this
every time I sit here now."
"I
think of doing it with you in one of the labs."
He
pulls you down for a kiss and reaches between you, finding the sweet spot. "I
think of doing it in the big chair."
"We'd
have an audience," you say, then nip his low lip
very softly before releasing it. "The bridge is never empty."
"It's
during refits or something. It's my fantasy. We're alone up there." He's
watching you as he touches, smiling just as you begin to feel it, the long
climb up and up and up and then falling.
"God
damn."
"Slow
and vertical is nice." He's thrusting up slowly, and once you can think
again, you begin to match his movements, until he too is gone. He presses his
face into your chest as he comes, then a few moments later, says, "I
haven't even seen your breasts," and begins to untie the wrap shirt you
picked just for the easy access.
"Pretty,"
he says, as he takes in the gray bra that matches the panties he barely looked
at. Then he reaches around and undoes it, pushing it up, playing, kissing.
"I
guess you like the girls, huh?"
"I
love the girls."
He
pulls you down for a long kiss, rubbing lightly on your back, making you
shiver. "Are you going to call me a sad old man if I tell you I'm really
sleepy now?"
"No,
I'm going to call you a satisfied and stuffed older man. And I'm sleepy,
too." You ease off him and just as you begin to wonder why you didn't grab
a nightshirt, he gets up and grabs a t-shirt, taking everything else off you
before pulling it on over your head.
"I've
been thinking about you wearing this." He's stroking and reaching under
it, finding you again, pushing you back against the table, relentless as he
touches you just enough to send you off again.
"I'm
going to sleep like a goddamned baby."
"Yes,
you are. I can't wait to wake up next to you."
You
lose yourself in kissing him. "Me neither."
##
You
wake to the feel of him spooning you, his arm tight around your waist. You're
still sleepy and the lights haven't come on, but he feels so good against you
that you don't want to just close your eyes and go back to sleep.
"Jim,"
you whisper, to see if he's awake, and when he doesn't answer you begin to
squirm against him, hearing him groan, then tighten his grip on you.
"Mmmmm," is all he says as he turns you over and kisses
you deeply. "What time is it?"
You
glance over him to the chrono. "We have
hours."
"Three
lovely words." Then he kisses down your body, and you thank whatever deity
in in charge of generous lovers that he likes to make you come as much as he
does.
You
don't know if it's his skill or the circumstances or how you feel about him or
some combination of all three, but he has you off fast and hard and clutching
at him as he kisses his way back up your body and calls for lights at fifteen
percent.
"I
love to watch you come down from that," he says softly. He's smiling in a
way you're not sure you've ever seen, like a boy that's gotten away with
something.
"What?"
"The
ship didn't explode or anything. I guess...I wasn't sure she'd share."
"Well,
to be fair, she is pretty new. Who knows how fond she is of you at this point? The
old Enterprise might not have been so
copacetic."
He
traces your lips, the curve of your smile. "That's true." He moves up
and over you, then into, slowly, and you groan. "I really love waking up
next to you."
"I
really love it too." You clutch his back and moan as he hikes your legs
up. "It's okay to let go. I like it, knowing you want me."
"Wanting.
You. Isn't. Even. In. Question." Each word is punctuated by a thrust, and
you laugh as he does it, enjoying him as much as the sex. And then he's less in
control and he's making sounds that don't sound like words and he's gone. He
collapses onto you, but you can tell he's trying to keep his weight off you,
and you say, "Just relax. I'll tell you when I'm tired of it."
So he does, no arguments, just a sigh of something
good—relief or satisfaction, you're not sure and it doesn't matter. You rub his back as he
lies still.
Finally,
he rolls off and pulls you against him, kissing you in a tender way that you
think will be your favorite of all his kisses. "So about our leave. I want
to take you somewhere special."
"I've
spent years in shitty places, working in horrible circumstances. You could take
me to the worst motel ever and it'd probably be a step up."
"What
about camping?"
"The
place would have to be worth it. I think I might have had my fill of bugs and
mud and dust and hard ground."
"Camping's
probably out, then."
You
study him. "Is that a dealbreaker?"
"God,
no." He rubs your nose with his, a sweet gesture that melts you a little
bit. "Gotta leave me something to do with the
boys, right?"
"Does
Spock like camping?" You know Len's up for anything if there's bourbon and
a campfire at the end.
"It's
growing on him." He snuggles closer. "Where have you always wanted to
go—on Earth, preferably, since I may get called back for meetings. I hate
that, but it happens."
"Hmmm."
You reach down as you think, and he laughs as you play. Then he makes other
sounds as you slip down to take him into your mouth.
"Or
we could just stay in here. Never leave." He's stroking your hair as you
go, saying, "Chris, if you want me to finish anywhere but there, now would
be the time," and you mouth, "It's okay," which makes him laugh
but the laugh turns into a groan, the happiest of them, long and low, and when
you come up, he kisses you.
"Tahiti,"
you say when you finally ease away.
"Wow,
you can multitask doing that, too?"
"Like
you can't." You kiss him slowly, enjoying the way he holds you, not too
tight, not too loose, like you're with him but he doesn't think he owns you. "Have
you been to Tahiti?"
"Once
with Lori."
"Oh."
"No,
we can still go."
"I'd
rather this first time was new for both of us. We can do Tahiti some other
leave. Let me think." You relax into his arms. "I like beaches. Do
you like beaches? Or should I be thinking mountains or a city?"
"I
love beaches."
"Maldives?"
"I
haven't been there."
"They
have those huts over the water. Private pools and the ocean
just beyond. I've heard the bed looks out onto the water—very
private."
"You
had me at bed." He reaches for the nightstand, opening the drawer and
pulling out a padd. "Let's see."
He
scrolls through resorts until he finds one you both go, "Oooh," over. He has the place booked and reserves some
spots in the tourist transporter queue before putting the padd back.
"Okay,
so I guess I can't break up with you before our trip."
"Were
you going to break up with me?"
"Yeah,
this just isn't working." You giggle—giggle? When in God's name have
you done that lately?
And
he seems to be charmed by the giggle. "Yeah, it's not working for me,
either."
"We
suck."
"We
do." He's sliding his hand down and down as he says it. "Sex is a
bust, that's for sure."
"I
know. So sad." He's already got you wriggling under his fingers. "I
wish you moved me."
"Yeah.
I need to work on that." He's laughing as you clutch at the covers, as you
arch and cry out. As you settle back, he kisses your neck, up to your ear. "Sorry
I can't make you come."
"Oh,
well. I'll love you for your mind."
"Yeah,
same here." He's yawning and it makes you yawn, so you turn and snuggle
in, snaking your arm over his waist. He kisses your forehead. "I'm so
tired, Chris."
"Me,
too. Go to sleep." You fall asleep before he does. That's unusual for you.
Then again, the last few years you were often picking Mister Right Now and not
Mister Right so the trust was minimal.
Trust
is a wonderful thing.
##
"Mmmm, I don't want to let you go. Call Jan and cancel. Say
there's an emergency." Jim nuzzles you as you sit in the park, close
enough to watch a game of baseball between two groups of kids but far enough
away that you can be affectionate without it getting weird. Your time in the
Maldives was amazing, and you feel as if the two of you have really settled
into each other, how to touch, how to cuddle, how to snuggle for the best
sleep.
"You
know I can't. First, Jan works emergencies so she'll know I'm lying. Second, Ny
will be there so she'll know I'm lying, too."
"Grrrr." He laughs. "I wish we were back in our
hut. I'd like to take your clothes off and enjoy the lack of any tan
lines."
You're
both tan and your hair has reddish highlights from the
salt and sun. Jim keeps playing with them, teasing the lighter strands out,
twisting them gently around his fingers.
He
pulls you close, his arm around your shoulders, and turns back to the game. "I
saw David play once."
"Yeah?"
"He
was just a little kid. I knew Carol was away. The sitter didn't know me." He
sighs. "I just stood at the fence for a while and watched him play."
"What
position was he?"
"Third
base."
"I
used to play that. Hated it. Running for those damn fouls."
He
laughs. "I was pitcher."
"Of
course you were." You reach up and squeeze his hand. "I think he
missed out. Obviously, you did, but I really do think he did. I think you'd be
an extraordinary dad."
He
looks sincerely touched. "You had a good father. I remember when your
folks passed."
"Yeah,
that was so hard. They were great parents." You nuzzle against his cheek. "I'm
sorry. I brought the tone down."
"I'm
the one who brought David up. And I like that we can talk about things. All kind of things. We're not just happy, shiny people,
Chris."
"No.
We're a bit broken." You smile. "In Japan, they have this tradition
called kintsugi. When pottery is broken, they fix it
with a golden glue. To highlight the damage, not hide
it. Because it's our damage that makes us unique."
He
nods. "And survivors."
"Exactly."
"I'm
plenty gold, then." He leans his head against yours. "I don't feel
damaged right now. The best part of this week is knowing
it doesn't end when we go back to the ship. That...we're a couple on leave and
at work. I've never had that."
"I
had it with Roger. I loved it."
"I
can see why. It's delicious." He brushes back your hair. "Your eyes
look so blue when you're tan." He pouts as the chrono
on your communicator chimes. "Time to go?"
"Yeah."
"I
can walk you partway."
"I'd
love that."
He
stands and holds his hand out, and you let him pull you up. You walk hand in
hand like a couple of teens and it makes you smile, how sweet he is. It's the
best part of getting to know him this way: finding out he's not just passion or
intensity. He's truly a nice man.
"The
restaurant is thataway." You gesture with your
head.
"And
Starfleet's the other way. Well, I'll see you on the ship, then." He
kisses you and you wrap your arms around him, wishing you could just go with
him to the ship instead of to dinner.
You
hope this never gets old.
With
a last kiss, you separate and you hurry the few blocks, seeing Ny round the
opposite corner as you make your way. She waves and before you can ask her how
leave was, she opens the door and gestures you through into a bistro Jan swears is fabulous.
"Well
you look tan and happy." Jan's grin is a welcome sight as she hugs you, then she turns to Ny. "And you're as beautiful as
ever. Do you never age, woman?"
"Good
genes, sugar. And yeah, she's sickeningly happy." Ny's
laugh is a little off as she gives Jan a hug.
"Aren't
you happy, too, Ny?" Jan shoots you a look and you do your ops shrug
that's shorthand for "Hell if I know."
"Oh,
yeah, Scotty and I are fine."
Fine
doesn't sound great and you can see Jan take it in. You've wondered if
something was going on with Ny and Scotty, but haven't followed up on it.
You've
been busy with Jim.
"What's
wrong?" Jan asks once you're at the table and have ordered. "Didn't
he take you to Scotland?"
"He
did. It was...really nice but..." She shakes her head. "Look, I
refuse to be a downer when we're here finally all together. Catch us up on what
you're doing with your new man."
"He's
someone else's new man." Her smile dims a bit.
You
realize the one she wore to greet you may have been a mask. "What?"
"He's
not what you'd call a one-woman guy. I found this out the hard way when I got
back early this week."
"Oh,
shit." You look at Ny. "Dinner's on us."
"Well,
it's on you. You're the only happy one."
Jan
turns to her. "You said you were fine. Now you're unhappy?"
"I
don't know."
Fortunately
the drinks come just in time to help Jan forget her pain for a while, Ny become
more forthcoming, and you to relax and stop thinking about Jim. You smile at
the server and tell her, "This is on me."
##
Jim's
off the ship for a conference, and you're at loose ends. It's ridiculous;
you've been single forever. He's gone a few days and suddenly you feel more
alone than you did when you were actually living by yourself.
Fortunately
he's coming back tonight.
You're
sitting at the bar in the lounge, and it's late so it's quiet, but you hear a
voice you don't expect say, "You miss him."
You
turn and nod. "I do, Spock."
"As
do I. You and I are in each other's lives now as more than just shipmates or in
each other's chain of command. Jim is important to us both. Perhaps it would behoove
us to learn a new way to interact?"
"Meaning?"
"I
would like to get to know you better than I do. I have found it is often easier
to do that—for me, at any rate—when also occupied in an activity. Do
you play chess?"
You
laugh and shake your head. "But I like your idea. How's your counting
ability. Say, to fifteen?"
"You
wish to play cribbage?"
You
nod.
"I
must warn you, I am quite skilled."
"This
isn't chess. There's an element of luck to it all."
"Most
fortuitous. You will not have to feel inadequate when I win."
You
laugh in surprise. "Oh, it's on." You go to the games replicator to
get a board and deck of cards then join Spock at the table he's chosen. "Cut
for deal. Low card wins."
"I
am familiar with the rules, Christine."
"Uh
huh. And we're not playing muggins. The goal of this
is to get along better for Jim's sake, right? So stealing points is not the way
to go."
"Agreed.
I will, however, point out if you miss any points."
"Ditto."
You
fan the cards out face down and grab a three. He pulls an ace, though, so you
sigh as he deals. You hope this isn't a harbinger of how this game will go.
You're
even more worried when you look at the cards he dealt you. You pray for a
decent cut card but it fails to materialize.
You
manage to pull eight points pegging though, which makes you happy. You lay out
your hand, saying, "Nineteen." As you look
at your worthless hand, you peek to see if he'll get the term.
"I
am aware that is an impossible score. But I have never understood why it is so
universally used to denote a null value when twenty-five, twenty-six,
twenty-seven and anything above twenty-nine are also impossible to
achieve."
You
try to lift your eyebrow in some approximation of his usual gesture. "Because
it's the sexier number."
"Sexier?
In what way?"
"It
just sounds sexier."
"I
will never understand some aspects of humanity." And then he lays down a
crap hand and says, "But I will embrace it. Nineteen."
His
crib is better. Not great but at least he pulls ahead. As he passes you the
deck to deal, you ask him, "Do you think the Klingons who attacked Fohlara will try again."
"You
believe they were trying to kill Jim?"
You
nod. "Don't you?"
"I
do. I am just...surprised you would realize that."
You
give him the glare of "Might want to rephrase that..."
"I
realize that you have worked many emergencies, and that you have probably grown
proficient at evaluating a variety of scenarios. But I tend to think of you as
a scientist. Not aware or interested in politics."
"Well,
it's Jim, so I do care. But I'll admit, it's nice to not have to pay so much
attention anymore." You smile as you deal the cards and assess your picks.
What to throw—all of them so good. Nice problem
to have. "You didn't answer my question, though. Will they try again?"
"I
do not believe so. The Klingon High Council denounced the actions of the
perpetrators. I believe the attackers were a rogue element who
have no doubt been dealt with by the council. Or if not rogue, then they will
not try something so direct again."
"So
they may try."
"There
are always risks. One cannot, however, become mired in the possibility of what
might occur."
"I
don't believe for a second that you're not doing everything you can to prevent
that from happening again."
He
lifts an eyebrow. "You may be correct."
"Damn
right I am." You lay down a card and watch him make the same mistakes he's
made in the last hand. He underestimates your play the same way he
underestimated your ability to read a situation. Well, if it lets you out-peg
him every hand, you'll win the game. Pegging has always been your secret
weapon. Playing by your gut.
You
imagine Jim's good at this game for the same reason.
The
game goes quickly. You win and he looks...annoyed.
You
can't wait to see how ticked off he'll get when you skunk him. "Wanna try for two out of three?" you ask, enjoying the
opportunity to play a game you love and talk to him in such an easy way.
"Yes."
He meets your eyes and the look in them is...respectful. "I misjudged you
again."
"Learn
from your mistakes, sir." You wink as you point to the deck. "Loser
deals."
"That
is an arbitrary ruling."
"I
know. But it annoys you so I like it."
He
lifts an eyebrow as if to protest, but he picks up the deck and deals like a
good boy.
##
You're
almost asleep when you feel someone slip in behind you. "That better be
you, Jim."
"It
is." He nuzzles your neck. "Is that my pillow?"
"Yes.
I missed you. I wanted your smell." You feel stupid saying it.
But
he laughs gently and says, "You're on the door to my quarters for a
reason. You could have left the pillow there and slept in the bed."
"They're
the captain's quarters." You tell the computer to turn the lights up to
ten percent and turn so you can see him. "I wasn't sure we were there
yet."
"Then
you're a dummy." He grins. "I missed you, too." He seems to go
very still, then leans down and whispers in your ear. "I love you,
Chris."
"I
love you, too."
"Well,
I'm glad we agree on that."
You
pull him down so you can kiss him, then reach down,
smiling into his mouth as you hear him groan.
"He
loves you, too."
"I
know." You move so he can strip off the pajamas and tank you're wearing
and you pull off his uniform, and then he's inside you and you exhale far more
than air. Such a short time to miss him this much.
And
then you give up thinking and just enjoy being with him, being the focus of
someone with this much intensity and pure raw life-force.
When
the two of you finally lie still and you're writing nonsense words on his back
with your finger, he murmurs, "Just move in with me, okay?"
"To
your quarters, down the hall?"
"Yeah.
Let's make them our quarters."
You
realize he's probably lived with someone way more than you ever have. You
couldn't live with Roger when you were his grad student, and then he left on
his exploration so soon after your engagement that the two of you barely had to
get used to sharing space. "Can I keep these quarters in case I need some 'me
time'? I'm not sure how great a roommate I'll be."
"You
can keep them in case I need some 'me time.'" He laughs at your
expression. "You never know." Then he pulls you down. "I checked
in with Spock before I came here. He mentioned you two played cribbage."
"Yep.
His play needs some work."
He
laughs silently, but it makes his chest under your head shake
and you ride out his amusement.
"He
missed you enough that he made due with me." You begin to slide your hand
down his body, but he grabs it, stopping you, saying, "Give an old man a
moment."
"Old
man, my ass."
"Is
there a reason you need to distract me when we're talking about Spock?"
You
go still. Did you hear him right? "What?" You lean on your elbows so
you can see his face. He doesn't look jealous. Just...curious.
"I
was trying to distract you because I want a couple more orgasms, if you must
know."
"Only
a couple?" But he laughs. "It's possible Spock's realizing what he
could have had. Does that interest you?"
"You're
asking me this after you tell me you love me and to move in?"
"Yes,
I am." He reaches out, stroking your cheek. "Do you want him,
Chris?"
"Not
instead of you—because that's what you're really asking, isn't it?"
"So
you do want him a little?"
"I
know you're not going to hold that against me. To be honest, I probably never
stopped. But it doesn't change what we have. And if he decides he's got to have
me, well, too damn bad. He had his chance, Jim."
"Okay."
He pulls you down for a kiss then lets you go. "I like to know the
landscape, Chris. I know you're the same way or I wouldn't have asked so
directly. He's going to be in our life. You're going to be in his. I needed to
know, that's all."
"Well,
now you know. And for what it's worth, one night of cribbage does not interest
on his part make. If you thought you saw any, I think you misread." You
reach for his hand, pull it down your belly to...there. "I may have not
indulged myself while you were gone. I wanted to be extra needy when you got
back. Was that a bad idea?"
"God,
no." He's already moving his fingers and it's in the way he has that means
he won't just take you over the cliff once. You love how responsive he makes
you—being with Roger was heady intellectually and good for your ego, but
the sex wasn't that exciting.
"Lie
very still," Jim says, capturing your leg with his and pulling it just
enough. Then he begins to touch you.
"Oh,
fuck."
You
don't lie still for long, but he makes you quiet down once you've come, and he
doesn't let up on you, seeming to know exactly where to touch you to keep the
high going without it being too much, until you feel it intensifying again, and
you ride it over the cliff for a second time.
Doing
that to you always makes him crazy. He proves he's not such an old man, after
all, finally lying bonelessly in your arms, murmuring
your name as he comes down.
You're
so glad he's back.
##
You're
moving some of your things down to Jim's quarters when Ny comes out of
Scotty's. "Oh." She actually frowns. "You're...moving in with
him?"
"Yeah.
I mean, no, not 'officially.' He has meetings there sometimes, so I still have
my quarters to retreat to if I need to. They really need to give the captain a
room of his own, you know? Like...near the bridge. Having a meeting in a room
with a bed in it is just weird, isn't it?" You realize she's still
frowning. "Is something wrong?"
"Would
you care if there was?" She sighs and holds up a hand. "I'm sorry,
Christine. I just got some bad news today and Scotty wasn't as comforting as
I'd hoped. Do you want some help moving stuff?"
"No,
it's okay. Is there anything I can do...?"
"No,
it's just... No." She pulls you in for a quick hug. "I'm happy for
you. Really." Then she's heading down the corridor toward the section both
your quarters are on.
You
should go after her and find out what's eating her.
But
the door opens and Jim's standing there grinning at you. "There some
reason you're just standing out there when you could be in here with me?"
"I'm
an idiot?"
"Copy
that." He holds out his hand. "My lady, welcome to your abode."
You
let him pull you in, hang up the little bit of clothing and put away the
things—fewer than you may ultimately need but you didn't want to overdo
it—in the drawers and cabinet he's cleared for you. As he pulls you back
against him, you murmur, "Will you be mad if I tell you I need to go be a
friend to someone?" You turn because you want to see his face.
"Of
course not." He brushes back your hair. "Should I know who?" His
expression sort of...tightens. "Cribbage with Spock?"
You
laugh. "Like that would be worthy of getting me out of here on the day I
move in? No, it's Ny. She said she got bad news. I—I'm not even sure what
it's about. Do you know?"
He
shakes his head and looks relieved. "Go see what's wrong. And then come
back to me. I'll be stuck here writing reports when I could be making love to
you in our bed."
You
pull him to you for a quick kiss. "I'll be back soon."
Then
you head to Ny's quarters, ringing for admittance,
and she answers it, and you can tell she's been crying, and the worst part is
how surprised she looks to see you there.
You
open your arms and say, "Oh, honey, what is it?"
And
she goes to you and let's you hold her, and you're standing in her doorway, the
door thumping on your hip, but you don't care. "Shhhh.
It's all right."
"I
wanted to cry with Scotty," she says as she finally draws you into her
quarters, letting the door close, locking the world out. "But he's so
practical. And all it made me was mad. Why do men always want to solve things
instead of just listening?"
"Because
they're hard wired to do that?" You smile gently. "I'll listen."
"I
put in for the Senior Seminar."
"Wow.
You didn't tell me that." It's a coup to get into the program. It's only
for commanders. A good indicator that you're considered to have potential to
get to the next level: captain. It's a small program, only twenty or so
officers admitted for two runnings per year. But the
seminar lasts three months and you get to visit sites most people never see, get
to have face-time with the brass. "Did they tell you why?"
"Been
in one job for too long. They told me I was a strong candidate but to apply
again when I find a different assignment. That's not fair."
"I'm
so sorry." You hope she doesn't realize you haven't really agreed with her
that it's not fair. She has been in the same job for a really long time. She's
great at it, but she can do it in her sleep and there are other officers she's
keeping from having the opportunity. You wonder if Jim's ever offered her
anything else on the ship, but this is where the line crosses. As his lover,
this is none of your business. As the head of life sciences, this is none of
your business. As her friend, you want it to be, but it's not.
"Jim
gave me a recommendation. So did Spock. I'll have to tell them I didn't get
in."
"What
can I do?"
"I
bet you know half the selection committee. Go tell them to change their minds."
"I've
pissed off my share of the brass." Well, Styles, anyway, if he can be
counted as the brass. She's right: you know a lot more people since your stint
in ops than you would have otherwise. But you doubt you'd just be
rubber-stamped through if that's what she means. You've
never put in for the seminar because you didn't have time, but if you had, you
wouldn't have been surprised to be turned down.
"So
what did Scotty suggest?"
She
laughs. "That I get a new job."
"On
the ship or off?"
"Oh,
on. God forbid I leave him." She sounds so bitter you almost cringe. "But
you know, broaden my skills. Take a chance. Put my fear behind me. I'm not
afraid. Do you think I'm afraid?"
You
shake your head. Complacent and set in her ways, maybe. But
not afraid.
"What
do you need me to do? Get you drunk? Go with you to the mess and have lots of
chocolate? Watch a lame vid and make fun of it?"
"Jim's
waiting for you, Christine. Isn't he?"
"He's
working on reports. He can wait a little longer. Let's go get those chocolate
mousse cakes we like, the ones with the white chocolate layers?"
"Oh,
we love those."
"Yes,
yes we do." You wipe her face. Even crying, she's still so lovely. You ugly-cry and wish that wasn't the case. "Come on. Let's
go have some goddamned 'The selection committee are idiots' cake."
"Thank
you."
"You'd
do the same for me."
##
The
party in the lounge is going strong and you look out where Jim's dancing with a
new lieutenant. She's young and curvy and auburn haired and for a moment,
you're back in those caves, watching as Andrea holds on to the thing that
thought it was Roger.
Why
did he make her? You've never known. You turn away and beckon the bartender to
refill your rye. Jim's ordered your favorite brand and you aren't
skimping—in fact, you really don't need another refill but the wonders of
antitox will make it all better.
You
see Spock sitting by himself at the least populated part of the bar and take
your drink and walk down to him. "Wishing for a chess board?"
"Or
a cribbage board." His eyes are light—almost grateful that you have
come to talk to him. He mingles well at the beginning of these parties but once
the drinking really gets going, he's less comfortable.
You
should be mingling, but you're tired and you glance over when the music changes
to see who Jim will dance with next. It's the same
woman. "Spock, did the music change just now?"
"No."
"Fuck,
I'm drunk." You follow up that statement by taking another sip.
"Would
not antitox be the preferred route at this juncture
than more alcohol?"
"If
one were logical, yes. But, my friend, the beauty of antitox
is there's no point of no return." No bed-spins, no throwing up for hours,
no dehydration headache in the morning. Unless of course you pass out before
you can take the antitox and don't have a friend
handy to jam a pill into your mouth—water optional. Truly
a miracle drug.
"Is
there not, however, a point of no return with what one might say when
intoxicated? Can words spoken unwisely be taken back?"
"Wow,
you're getting really existential with someone as wasted as I am." You
laugh and lean in. "And yeah, yeah there is a point of no return for
that."
"How
often have you crossed it?"
"It
might surprise you to know, oh ye of little faith"—you poke his
upper arm as you say it—"that I rarely cross that line. Even now,
I'm fine."
"I
believe that is debatable."
Before
you can answer, you feel hands on your arms, and Jim saying loudly enough for
Spock to hear, "I think we can call it a night if we want."
"Are
you sure you don't want one more dance with the Andrea clone?" Wow, you
sound bitter. Shit.
"Uhhh?"
"As
I noted, Christine, the music did not change." Spock looks at Jim. "I
believe she is under the misconception that you danced twice with Lieutenant Lavorna." He lifts an eyebrow. "You avoid
multiple dances as it might lead to a crewmember getting the 'wrong idea.'
Other than Christine, of course, with whom you may dance as much as you wish."
"I
did not need you to say all that." You feel like slugging him but Jim's
still holding your arms. "What is this cave man thing?"
"I'm
ready to leave. Let's go." He sounds...tired, and you're immediately
contrite.
"I'm
sorry, Jim. Too much to drink. And I forgot the antitox."
"We
have plenty."
"I
know. Damn good thing, right?" You look at Spock. "Good night."
"Christine.
Jim." The look he shares with Jim is one you've never been able to read. What
is it between them? Friendship or...more?
You
ride the lift in silence, follow Jim to his quarters—you're having
trouble thinking of them as yours yet—and instead of heading for the
medicine cabinet like you should, you snake your arms around his neck, rubbing
the way he likes.
Normally,
he'd be pushing you to the bed or hiking you up onto the nearest piece of
furniture. Instead he narrows his eyes and says, "Spock get you all revved
up?"
You
let go of him. "What?"
"I
asked you once, early on, if I needed to worry about Spock, and you said, and I
quote, 'Nope.' So do you want to revise that?"
"Why?
Did your little slut of a lieutenant make you not want me?"
His
eyes narrow dangerously. "I dance with the crew. You know that. One dance
and I move on. And this time I had to move on to you since I wasn't sure what
was going on at the far end of the bar with you and Spock."
You
get up in his face, in a way you really haven't up to now. "And who were you
jealous of? Him having me or me having him?"
"What
the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"Jim,
you think there aren't rumors about you and him?"
His
eyes goes dead. His mouth is tight. He's holding
himself so still it almost frightens you. "Go take some fucking antitox right goddamned now."
And
you do. Because that's the voice of the captain, not your
lover.
You
hold out the container and he shakes his head. "Unlike you, I remembered
to bring some." He paces to the viewscreen and
back. "Just sit until you're sober."
And
you do, feeling sicker—at heart, not in body—with each passing
moment. "Jim, I'm sorry."
"I
believe that. Because you're not usually mean. I get that this lieutenant might
have made you think of Andrea. I get that might bring up bad memories. But...what
Spock and I have is between Spock and me. And it's nothing that threatens this
relationship. But...can you say the same?"
"You're
jealous?"
"You
touched him more than once."
"I
do that when I'm drunk. It means nothing."
He
laughs but it's a bitter exhalation of air and not a real laugh. "He's a
Vulcan—there's only so much he's going to tolerate from a drunk
colleague."
"Ouch."
"Yeah.
I can be a bitch, too, Chris." He lies down on the bed, laying his hands
over his eyes. "I saw you with him. I just reacted. I'm...I'm sorry. I
shouldn't have been so..."
"Me
want woman. Me take woman now." You laugh in relief as he smiles. It's a
small smile, but it's something. "I'm sober now. Can I come over?"
"Yes."
You
move slowly, easing in next to him, winding your arm over his chest. "He
looked uncomfortable. I was drunker than I should have been. I won't do that
again, I promise. I know I represent more than just myself now."
"You
do."
"But,
Jim, Spock and I are...friends, and new ones at that, so this is surprising me.
Even after all these years. I didn't expect you to get jealous."
"You
can but I can't?" He lifts his hands to look at you.
"No,
it's not that. I just didn't expect I'd be someone you'd get jealous over. And...I like that I am."
"Of
course you are, Chris. Jesus. You're living with me on my own damn ship."
You
touch his cheek, touching gently. "Whatever is between you and Spock. Friendship—or more. I
don't care. I know you love him. I know he loves you. I see it all the time—how
much you'd do for each other—and it's a good thing. I really was way more
pissed over the lieutenant than anything you might feel for Spock."
"Okay.
But in my defense, the music didn't change." Then he starts to laugh. "The
tempo did change, though."
"Aha—I
knew something was different." You laugh and nuzzle him. "I'm sorry.
I was an idiot."
"Well,
you're my idiot. And I'm sorry, too." He pulls you to him and kisses you,
and while he might think you're an idiot, it's also very clear in the way he's
holding you and how he wants to take you that he does, indeed, consider you
his.
"Repeat
after me," he says as you lie quietly together afterwards. "I will
not forget my antitox."
"I'd
like to change it to I will not drink so much I need antitox.
Not like I did tonight. How's that?" Then you think about the social
functions that often require way too many toasts no matter how much you might
like to practice moderation. "And I will not forget my antitox."
"Good."
He studies you. "I was jealous. I didn't like it."
"You're
my jealous boy, then. Mine."
"Yeah.
Yours. God help us both." But he's grinning as he says it, so you relax
into him and fall asleep.
##
You're
at the bar in the main lounge in Starbase 18, sitting between Jim and Len, and
you and Len are deep in discussion over an experiment you're conducting
together. It's fun working with him again, and this time as an equal, not
someone in his own department. Jim's paying attention, but he's being hailed by
a lot of people he knows, so you let him do his thing and just enjoy science
and Len at his smartest.
"Well,
look what the cat dragged in." Len's looking past you, and you hear a
familiar, and gratingly sweet voice—why didn't you notice that the first
time you met her?
"Jim.
What a surprise!"
You
wonder how it can be a surprise when the Enterprise
is the biggest thing in orbit. He doesn't say that but as he says hello to
Gillian, he reaches under the bar and sets his hand on your knee in what has
become his warning touch—he knows you too well.
"Oh,
I can't tell you how much I've wanted to see you. To...I wasn't at my best the
last time and I really regret how we left things. The ship I'm on—it isn't
exactly what I thought it would be."
You
turn to look, and Gillian smiles at you, gives Len a much nicer smile, then she
turns back to Jim. "I know last time wasn't what we wanted it to be."
She's pushed in close, the way she did when she kissed him goodbye in the
middle of the tribunal floor. "I've got some time if you do too? Your ship
is here, right? Your real one, not the Klingon thing. I'd
love to see it."
You
can practically feel Jim bristling at how she's describing the bird of prey you
know he got quite fond of during his exile and trip to the past.
"You
gonna step in?" Len murmurs in your ear.
"Oh,
fine." You lean into Jim. "I hope you're going to hang a sock on the
door or something if you plan to take her up on that
offer." Your tone is light; your smile is as guileless as you can make it.
Then you lean in, your hand sliding to the small of his back. "Didn't you
have that thing in a little bit?"
"I
do have that thing." His voice is so neutral it's painful—for
Gillian.
"Yeah.
Unless you'd rather call it off and go with her...?"
He
turns to look at you, his gaze assessing, so you whisper in his ear in your
sexiest voice, "Do whatever you want, Jim."
He
laughs and murmurs back, "Right. Only a very stupid man would believe that."
Then he turns to Gillian, "You met Chris during the tribunal, right?"
Not
Commander Chapel. Chris. You have to bite back the smile.
"I
uh. I didn't realize the two of you..." She looks uncomfortable so you
take pity on her.
"Oh
we weren't back then. No worries." You try to give her a smile that's at
least sort of nice. "I'm on his ship now. Head of life sciences."
"Oh.
So I guess when I was going on about Science
Vessel during the tribunal, you knew exactly what I was in for?"
"You
seemed excited. Who was I to piss on your parade?" You choose to phrase it
that way on purpose and Jim looks down, but the slight shake of his shoulder
gives him away. He's never seen you in full-on alpha-bitch mode and you think
he's pretty amused by it.
"Well,"
Gillian says, "it might have been a nice gesture."
"True.
Honestly, though, I was trying to figure out why you were abandoning your
whales. You are the only cetacean biologist in the—well, anywhere on
Earth."
"The
Manixans have them well in hand—or flipper, I
guess," Jim says as he tightens his grip on your knee in an unmistakable
sign of "Crank the hostility down a bit."
"Yes,
your whales are fine." You smile, a real smile this time. "So no harm
done."
By
her face, your attempt to make it better falls flat. "So you're head of
life sciences." She smiles. "I'm a biologist. And...well, I have to admit I'm less than challenged on the ship
I'm on." Her smile changes, becomes more like the one she gifted Len with.
"I've heard Jim has wide latitude in bringing on civilians and even
interns. And it'd be your section, wouldn't it? We female science nerds should
stick together."
You
raise an eyebrow in a way you think Spock would be proud of. You hear Len
whisper, "Ballsy move."
For
once you're not sure what to say.
Jim
fortunately doesn't have that problem. "I'm afraid the ship's at full
capacity. It's the flagship, after all. A plum posting.
People vie for a billet."
You
can hear the unheard "qualified people" in how he puts that.
So
can Gillian by the way her face falls. "Of course they do. It's just that
I thought I could learn so much more from you and that brilliant Mister Spock. And
Engineer Scott impressed me so much, as did you Doctor McCoy."
She's
left you out in such an obvious way you almost laugh.
"We
don't have any training programs. It's why you're where you are. Stick with it.
Or ask to go back to Earth to the whales." Jim's voice is testing.
You
know why. He values loyalty beyond almost anything, and she abandoned her
whales nearly the moment she got to Earth. You wonder if there was a whole lot
more of her ego bound up in how much she cared about them and saving the ocean
life of Earth of old than there was actual concern.
"Sure.
I have choices." She's sounding put out now. But she's never going to give
in and you think that's why Jim was drawn to her. Willpower is sexy to him. "Well,
I guess I should probably go." She lets the last word linger, as if Jim
might change his mind with you sitting right goddamn next to him.
"Probably
a good idea." You reach over and help yourself to Jim's scotch since your
glass is empty. "I'm pretty sure a quickie with him is out of the
question."
You
hear Len snicker softly behind you.
Jim
lets go of you and gets up, giving Gillian a hug that doesn't look all that
warm. You smile and wave goodbye, and once Gillian's out of range, Len says,
"God almighty, woman, can you turn on the ugly or what?"
"Oh,
I wasn't that bad. Besides, Jim probably loved having us go at it over
him." You lean into Jim and whisper in his ear. "Do you want her? You
could still go get her?"
"I'll
stick with the devil I know." He's grinning as he says it, and he
surprises you by pulling you in and kissing you quickly. It's chaste by any
standards but the lounge is packed.
Len
looks surprised too. "Well, well."
"I'm
crazy about this woman, Bones. Even if she is a bit of a bitch at times."
"Just
a bit?" you ask with a grin. "I must be slipping."
"Besides,
I think Gillian wanted the job more than me." Jim waves the bartender over.
"Another round." He looks at you and Len. "It's on me if we can
talk about something other than your experiment or the woman who just left."
"Oh,
fine," Len says. "Where's our next shore
leave? I've got a lovely lady I'd like to pamper with dinner and who knows what
else."
"They
say I get all the action but you, Bones, are the smooth operator." He
grins at you. "I'm stuck in this domestic bliss"—he laughs when
you stick your tongue out at him—"and you're out breaking hearts and
taking numbers."
"Pffff." Len looks sad for a moment. "I'd actually
like to have what you two have. Just, not with either of you." He laughs
at his own joke. "True love is destined to run like hell when it sees me,
I think."
You
laugh. "Maybe it's scared of you. You can be pretty mean
when you're in a bad mood."
"Mean?
Why I'm a southern gentleman to the core."
"Sure
you are, Bones." Jim sighs happily and sips his drink. Then he says. "I
did like seeing you fight for me, Chris."
"A
quickie in quarters we share? In your dreams, Jim. Maybe
I just didn't want her on my side of the bed. Or getting into
my stuff. This might not be about you at all." But you're grinning
like a fool. "Was I too much? I can tone it down the next time one of your
old flings wants to ravish you in our quarters."
"No,
I'm okay with the level of possessiveness. Especially when they may just want a
leg up career wise." He moves his hand a little higher on your
thigh—nothing too daring if anyone sees the movement, but a very clear
message that he's not mad. "Good for my soul—and as you say, my
ego."
##
It's
the end of a routine mission and you've decided to mosey down to the
transporter room to meet Jim and Spock and Len. You see Spock coming out of the
transporter room, Len hurrying after him, nearly shouting. "Spock,
goddammit, wait a minute."
You
rush to catch up because Jim's nowhere in sight. "What's going on?"
You don't like the look he gives you. It's the same one he had when Jim was
lost with Miramanee and her tribe. "Len, where
is he?"
"There's
interference down there. It's playing havoc with our sensors. And...a force of some kind."
"Of
what kind?"
"Like
a transporter or a wormhole or, God I don't know, ask the blasted Vulcan who
won't slow down."
You
can see he's winded, probably from whatever happened on the planet, so you run
to catch up with Spock. "I want to help."
"You
are not a physicist."
You
feel stung. "This isn't just physics if what Len told me is right."
Spock
stops and he looks—oh holy crap, for a Vulcan he looks panicked. "You
are now acting head of the science section while I take over command of the
ship. If you wish to help, assist me in that way."
"Of
course." You meet his eyes. "Do you believe he's alive?"
"I
have no reason to believe he is not. I just have to find where he has
gone." He's looking at you in a way that clearly says, "Please, do
not get in my way. And do not ask me to comfort you."
So
you nod and say, "I'll be in my office if you need me."
You
turn to go and he stops you, his hand grasping your shoulder strongly. "If
I find him, I will inform you."
"In
whatever state, okay? Don't sugarcoat it. I've worked too many emergencies to
have you try to spare me."
"Of
course." And then he's gone and Len's following him, and you turn on your
heel and head to the science section.
Spock
has found the time to inform the staff that you're acting chief. You take a
deep breath and try to figure out if he has any reports due. He's done them all, thank whatever deities impart efficiency to Vulcans. He's
answered every comm.
Which
means you can concentrate on your job.
Which you do for an hour, then another. You give up and skip
the mess because you're not hungry, but when you try to sleep you can't. The next
day you're groggy, and you actually pop a stim for
the first time since you left ops, and later you drink too much in hopes you'll
sleep but only end up crying at Jim's table like someone who's giving up, so
you pop some antitox and go back to your office.
The
third night, you're standing in the lounge, staring out at the star stream,
trying to feel Jim somewhere on the
planet below you. He can't be dead. This can't be like Roger—not when you've
just found each other.
You
sense another presence beside you, standing close. "We will find him,
Christine." To your surprise, Spock pushes against you, his arm a slight
pressure on yours. "Starfleet would prefer I take the ship and allow a
rescue team to work on Jim's recovery, but unfortunately my reply was garbled
as were their subsequent comms. It would seem the ship
is having periodic communications outages." His eyebrow goes up but there
is no humor in it—more like anger, but not at you. At Starfleet, for
making him leave. You remember he did leave him that
other time, long enough for Jim to make a life. To make a child.
But
you can see he won't do that again. Maybe it's because he died. Maybe he no
longer cares about rules over friendship. "You're not leaving him?"
"I
am not leaving him. He would not leave me. He has more than proved that, has he
not?"
You
nod, because of course he did. Jim gave everything to save this man in front of
you. "Thank you."
"You
need sleep. Jim would want you at peak efficiency if we need to mount a
rescue."
"I
won't be part of that rescue. It's driving me crazy not to do something—anything."
"You
are an essential part of his rescue because you are undoubtedly one of the
primary motivators he has for staying alive. He cares for you deeply,
Christine. And it will not be a satisfactory reunion if you fall asleep when
you finally have him back."
His
eyes are so tender you want to reach out, to touch his cheek. To show him how
thankful you are that he's here and he's Jim's friend and now yours. "I'm
exhausted."
"Sleep,
Christine. We will find him. I promise you that."
You
know a Vulcan would never promise what he could not deliver, and you feel a
peace fill you. Jim will be okay because Spock will make it so. You do reach
out, your hand on his for a glancing moment, and he closes his eyes.
"Goodnight,
Spock."
"Goodnight,
Christine."
You
have ever intention of lying down the minute you get to the bed you share with
Jim. But when you walk in, when you reach into the closet and smell his cologne
on his robe, the fear that the truth and what Spock believes may be very
different things practically suffocates you.
You
ignore the bed and head for the labs. There are interesting experiments going
on. Maybe you can lose yourself in progress reports.
##
It's
been four days. You're beyond exhausted. Ny gives you pitying looks every time she
sees you in the hall. At her side, Scotty seems to eye you a bit differently. Does
he view you as some kind of Typhoid Christine? The woman whose love is a curse?
You've always suspected he thought you were with Decker. He never came out and
said it but it was the way he'd look at you, like "Aye, she's a starfucker, that one."
Only
you really have no idea if he thinks that. You've just been hearing Ny bitch
more than wax rhapsodic about him lately and you're internalizing that. Preparing to side with your friend.
You're
amazed she's lasted this long. He'd drive you fucking crazy with his
just-shy-of-desperate devotion.
You're
pacing Jim's quarters, exhausted but not willing to lie down, not when it's
been too damn long. You're feeling mean and ready to fight, but there's nothing
to attack.
His
door chimes, and Len and Spock come in. Before you can assail them with
questions and "Have you thought of this?" suggestions, Len holds up a
hypo. "Nighty-night time."
"I'm
not tired."
"No,
you're not. You're so far beyond tired I don't know that we have a name for it."
Len motions in the general direction of the closet "Go get changed. I
promise if we find him while you're sleeping, we'll give you a reversal."
"Are
you going to make Spock sleep? Pav or Ny or Scotty? Anyone
but me?"
Spock
steps between you. "Your performance is suffering, Christine. Please, do
as Leonard says."
You
think you've never heard Spock call him that before. Then you realize what he's
said. "You're going to make this about the job?"
"Yes,
because I believe it is the only way you will listen."
You
try to stare them down. Give them the full-on bitch of ops, but neither of them
is moved. Finally, you stomp to the closet, grab your pajamas, and go into the
bathroom to change. When you come out, they are in the same place, their faces
carefully neutral. You climb into the bed and hold out your arm, hating the
sound of the hiss that means oblivion.
"If
I have nightmares, it's your fault."
Spock
turns to Len. "Doctor, do you need an escort to your quarters or can I
trust you to take the same remedy?"
The
look Len gives him is probably a mirror for how you're looking at them both. "I
don't want to leave her just yet."
"I
will stay until she falls asleep." Spock's tone brooks no argument.
You
can already feel the drug working. You hate to admit it, but finally letting go
feels like heaven. "Go, Len. You need this as much as I do."
"We'll
find him, hon'."
You
wait until the door closes behind him to say, "Sure we will."
Spock
moves to the bed, sitting next to you. "Do you not believe we will?"
"My
history would say otherwise."
"A
case study of one? Unless you have lost other partners I am not aware of?"
His look is gentle. "Hardly valid scientific analysis. Moreover, Jim's
history would indeed say we will find him. His will to
live is..."
"Indomitable."
"Yes.
Exactly. The odds are meaningless in his case."
You
curl up, pulling Jim's pillow to you. "It smells like him."
"Comforting."
"Yeah.
The real thing would be more so." You reach for his hand and hold on. "Thank
you for being so nice to me."
He
doesn't jerk away. "It is no hardship to be kind to you, Christine."
You
can feel yourself slipping away, so you laugh and say, "Yeah, tell that to
the old me."
You're
still lucid enough to hear him say, "Unfortunately, I cannot." And
then you slip into oblivion.
When
you wake the next morning, you feel worlds better. You're halfway through
breakfast when Len comes running into the mess.
You
smile. "You found him?"
"Well,
Spock did. Naturally. You and I were too busy sleeping."
"Since
Jim might be hurt and we're two of the best doctors on this ship, having us
rested is an eminently logical thing for Spock to do, isn't it?"
"It
sure as hell is. Listen, I have to go. I'm going down with Spock to get Jim. We
have to limit—"
You
wave off whatever he's going to say. "I know. Just...just tell me when I
can see him."
"Be
at the transporter room. Loiter all day if you have to." He grins. "He's
coming home, Christine."
"He's
coming home."
You
want to cry but find yourself laughing softly instead. You're not a curse,
after all.
##
You're
pacing outside the main transporter room and hear the door hiss open. You whirl
and you think your smile must rival Spock's the time he found out he didn't really
kill his captain. "Jim!"
He's being supported by Spock and Len, so you don't try to hug
him. But you do touch his face, making sure it's really him, not some sick
illusion.
"Sweetheart,
I'm okay."
"He's
not, but he will be once I'm done with him," Len says. "Let's get him
to sickbay, okay, Chris?"
You
follow close behind, pinching yourself to make sure
you're not still drugged and asleep. But it hurts, so you smile.
He's
alive and he's back.
Spock
and Len help him onto a biobed and you stand back. This
isn't your sickbay. You're not even practicing. But Len says, "He's
managed to stay hydrated but he's in need of nutrients. Can you get the flavor
he likes, Christine?"
And
you smile, because a long time ago you knew the flavor everyone liked and it
was a joke between you two that you could remember that. Len looks up and
smiles gently and you smile back the same way. "On it."
You
find where the nutrient gels are stashed and search for lemon, but have to
settle for orange. Lemon's always gone first; it tastes so much like lemonade
that you think it might bring happy memories as well as much-needed calories.
You
bring it back and hold it to Jim's lips while Len and the nurses
work. When he finishes, you whisper, "Had us worried, Mister," and
rub some moisturizing balm on his chapped lips.
"Had
myself a little worried, too." He glances at Len and the nurses, who are
focused on healing his abrasions and cuts, then mouths, "Kiss me."
You
do, making it quick but satisfying. You mouth, "I love you," as you
pull away and he mouths it back.
"If
you're done making out with our patient, do you want to help out with these
cuts, Doctor?" Len sounds way too amused.
"What
if she's not done making out with me?" Jim winks and you think that's the
best sign ever. That he can make jokes and sound so light—much better
already then he did in the corridor when you first saw him.
"Leave
'em wanting more." You laugh at his expression
and go find a regenerator and get to work.
During
a moment where the nurses have stepped away, Len murmurs, "I wanted you to
see that he's not as hurt as we thought. He'll want to be close and that's
okay."
You're
touched that he's thinking of you this way—of both of you. You lean in
and give him a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you."
"You
don't have to thank me. You're both my friends." His smile is sweet as he
continues working.
Jim's
watching both of you so fondly it makes your breath catch. You thought you'd
never see that look, the smile he gives you, the way he breathes out when he's relieved—and
you can see he's letting go of whatever fierce spirit kept him alive.
"I
need to log what happened," he says, even though you can tell he's having
a hard time keeping his eyes open.
"Later,
Jim," Len says. "Spock determined how to avoid the disturbance when
he figured out how to find you. No
one else is going to get caught up by it."
Jim
nods. "Of course he did." Then he smiles and quits fighting the
inevitable. He closes his eyes and
goes to sleep.
##
You're
lying next to Jim, days away from his being lost, but still holding maybe a
little too tightly. He doesn't complain, though, and he holds on just as tight.
"We
need to talk about something," he murmurs into your ear.
You
ease back so you can see his face. There's something in his voice, something
that tells you this won't be a conversation you like."
"I
had a lot of time to think while I was down there alone." He reaches out
and brushes your cheek. "Mostly about how unfair it was to die when I'd
just found happiness."
You
nod, because you don't want to give the idea of him dying voice.
"But,
Chris. We never know when it's our time. And I don't want you to think you
can't find love again."
"Jim,
I can't talk about this right now."
"We
have to. When I was down there, I tried to envision your future. And I saw
it—I saw it with Spock."
"There's
nothing going—"
"I
know. This isn't about me being jealous anymore. I trust both of you. But I've
seen how he looks at you when he thinks I'm not paying attention. I truly think
he cares for you."
"Maybe
it's just relief. That I'm not
chasing him. That I'm fun to be around. That he
approves of your girlfriend."
"Chris,
I've watched the two of you become friends and it's made me so happy that two
of the people I love most in this world have put aside old discomfort and found
a connection. And it would be a small step to go from friends to...more." He
tips your chin up. "What I'm saying is it's okay. If you
don't mourn forever. If you find love again. And
if it's with him."
You
don't want to have this conversation, not right after getting him back, but you
see how much it matters to him. What he went through on that planet, the demons
he faced alone, he thought of you. Now you need to return the favor.
"And
if I go first, Jim, the same applies. Find someone. Be happy." You run
your fingers through his hair the way he likes, the way that makes him close
his eyes in pleasure. "Just...I don't want to think of either of us dead,
Jim. I want to think of a long, happy life. I want to think of us old and
occasionally crotchety the way only a long-term pair can be. I want to love you
forever."
"I
know. Me, too." He kisses you, slowly and thoroughly. "And I'm not
trying to borrow trouble. But...we just never know, do we?" He looks down.
"I lost David before I really got to know him. I don't know if he had any
pets—if he was a dog person like I am. I don't know his favorite sport or
color or food. I don't even know if he was ever in love. I hope so. I think
maybe he and Saavik had something but I never knew for sure."
He
rolls to his back and stares up at the ceiling, but he reaches for you, his
hand landing softly on your hip. "We just don't know when our time will
come. He was a civilian scientist that Carol kept far, far away from me and Starfleet. But that didn't stop him from being
murdered on a mission."
"I
know." You close your eyes. "What you say makes sense. Maybe it's
cowardly, but I don't want to think about it right now."
"Okay.
I've said it. You'll remember if it you need to. We don't need to discuss it
again."
You
like that idea. You don't want to think about losing him or not being here
yourself. Not after all you just went through.
Not
now that you're back together, here, in this bed, making happy memories.
"I
love you, Jim. I feel like I can't possibly say that enough—or make it
clear how much I mean it."
He
pulls you in and kisses you tenderly. "Believe me. I feel the same
way."
##
You
walk into an auxiliary mess you usually never eat in, grab some food, and then
look for Ny.
"Christine,
come sit down." She's in a booth in the corner.
"Really?"
"I
just don't want to run into him, okay?" She stabs her food angrily enough
a casual observer might think she was the one who'd been dumped. "When he
and I started, we agreed that if it didn't work, we wouldn't make it awkward. Why's
he making it awkward?"
"Because
he's Scotty?" You grin in the most supportive way you can. "But it's
going to get better. It's always awkward at first." And exactly why you
never, ever dated anyone in ops. You didn't want this kind of bullshit going on
when you were in an emergency.
"Do
you really think he'll go back to normal? I mean Mira and Carolyn both left the
ship after they broke up with him."
"I
don't think the two were related." Carolyn was pregnant by a god, after
all, even if you and Len honored her wishes and kept that quiet. Still, Jim
reported it to whoever in Starfleet you report that kind of stuff to, just in
case Olympians spawn godlings, but the kid seems
normal. He's in Starfleet now and you've checked up on his readings from time
to time out of curiosity.
Mira,
on the other hand, did seem grateful to get away from Scotty but not in a
"he's a stalker—get me off this ship!" kind of way. More just a general ennui regarding him.
Ny
can't do that. Although you both know it would be good for her career to go do
something else somewhere else. But you know she won't, so you don't bring it
up. "It'll be fine, really."
She
finally seems to calm down. "I wanted to love him, you know?"
"I do. I've met some men I wanted to love, too. But you can't force
it."
She
sighs. "Sybok made us feel so much. It was heady and I'm not sure without
that push he gave us, we ever felt the same again. But we kept trying. Until I
just couldn't."
"It's
not a crime to break up with someone, Ny."
"Tell
that to Scotty." She frowns
and fake-shakes, as if she's leaving that subject behind—violently, if
she has to. "So, how's it having your man back?"
"Wonderful."
You can't hide the smile that's breaking out. "I thought he was de..."
"I
know. I thought maybe too. But we're both stupid. Nothing's going to take that
man down."
"Damn
straight."
"Would
you have stayed if he'd...you know?"
"I don't know. I want to say yes, that this is about you and Len and
Spock. But to be here now without him. I just don't
know." You meet her eyes. "Would you hate me if I left?"
"One of us probably will leave eventually. And no, there will be no
hate." She smiles, a little sadly. "One of us has to be happy."
"I'd
really prefer that both of us were."
She
reaches over the table and squeezes your hand. "Have I told you how glad I
am that you're here?"
"Once
or twice."
"Good."
##
You
sit with Spock, assessing his play. He's gotten better at knowing what you'll
do when you peg, and what kind of hands you love to make. Every
player has their pet plays and you've shown him yours.
This
game isn't all luck, after all. As he said, when you first started playing.
You
glance up and see he's looking at you with an expression you can only categorize
as tender. You think he's overachieved on forging a new way to relate to you,
but you're not going to mention it. Especially since you're so happy with his best
friend,
For
Spock, "You snooze, you lose" may be the lesson of the day, but
you're never going to say that to him.
What
you do say is: "Thank you for taking such good care of me when Jim was
lost."
"I
told you then it was no hardship."
"It
would have been to the Christine Chapel you used to run from." You play a
ten on his, counting a double.
"You
are no longer that woman." He lays another ten down, pegging six ,and then has the ace to make thirty-one. "Your
play is compromised. Perhaps you would rather be with Jim?"
Is
there a note of...longing or regret in the way he's saying that?
Shit,
you need to stop. Whatever he feels, that's on him. And you know he's only
feeling it because it was safe to let you in and get to know you. If you were
still single, he never would have.
"It
was the best play at the time." Your other cards are all face cards, and
you were sure he had the same thing, so you didn't want to give him something
to make a run with. Caution brings its own cost. "And no, I'm fine right
here, playing cribbage with you. If I wanted to be with Jim, I'd be with
Jim." You say it so firmly it's as if it's a declaration of war and
immediately feel stupid. "I mean—"
"I
understood your meaning, Christine." His voice is extraordinarily gentle.
It's
less so when he pegs out. His eyes are glistening. "Loser deals."
You
grin, and lose yourself in the game rather than worrying about what he's
feeling or not, and win the first few hands.
A
little while later, you hear Jim behind you. "You want a refill?"
"Yes
please." You lift your chin so he can kiss you. "I think just some
club soda with lime."
He
smiles. You've both been drinking less lately. "You've got it. Spock? Refill
on your cran-soda?"
"Yes,
Jim. Most kind."
Jim's
back quickly with your drinks and one for him, carrying them like a pro. "Didn't
know I used to wait tables when I was a teen, did you?" He grins and sits
down next to you. "Mind an observer?"
"No,"
you turn and make the move halfway to him that allows him to close the gap and
give you a sweet short kiss.
"Spock?"
He grins at him, but you hear something else. Something that says, "I get
how you feel about her, but she's mine."
You
think Spock hears it, too. "Not at all, Jim. We are currently tied with a
game each."
"Be
warned, he pegs like a little old lady."
Jim
laughs. "My grandmother played this game at tournament level into her
nineties. Little old ladies can peg like fiends, Chris." He winks at
Spock. "Gotta protect my bud."
"Thank
you, Jim."
"Boys,"
you mutter, as if you're put out, but you're grinning so you know they both can
tell you're not.
"So
we're going to be on Vulcan in a few weeks, Spock. Chris hasn't seen it. You
want to show us around or do you have family obligations? And either answer is fine."
"I
would enjoy showing you both my favorite places."
"Exellent.
Chris, perhaps someone will teach you how to make that soup he
likes." Jim's laughing and you pretend to elbow him in the ribs.
"I
like cooking, but I'm not cooking that. The chilies nearly burned my skin off. Please
tell me not all Vulcan food is that hot, Spock."
"It
is not. My region tends to favor hot dishes but there are specialties from
other areas that are quite mild."
"Good."
You let Jim see your hand.
"I
said he could observe, not play." Spock's eyes are gleaming in a good-humored
way. "The two of you are formidable."
"I
like that, honey," you say, not pulling the hand away from him. "Spock
thinks we're formidable."
"He's
goddamned right." He points to two cards. You try to figure out why he
wants you to discard them, then smile. "Interesting."
"I
must protest. Or demand equal time if you wish to assist rather than just watch."
"Spock,
she must be awfully good if you don't think you can take on two humans."
"Sadly,
she is." He fixes you with a stern look. "But I am learning her
plays."
"He
is, too. It's annoying." You smile and discard the ones Jim said to. "So
why not mix it up a little?"
Jim
laughs, but then Scotty comes over, asking him if he'll come have a drink with
some newly reported engineering staff. "Who am I to say no to that, Mister
Scott?" He leans in, and whispers, "Lead with the nine."
You
glare at him.
"Fine,
play it your own way. This is your two's game." He winks at Spock, then leaves you.
"We
should have a three-way tournament. He makes interesting choices."
"He
chose you, so I would agree."
"That's
so sweet of you. Also a way to try to throw me off my game
being all mushy. Not going to work, mister." You lay down your
first card. The nine, as Jim suggested.
It
works like a charm.
FIN