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) 2003 by Djinn. This
story is Rated R.
Forgotten
by Djinn
The cave is the only warm
place in the frozen wasteland. The fire
Spock built the only source of heat, and Christine huddles close to it after
dropping the load of brush she's gathered.
Jim comes in soon after, setting down the wood he's collected then
heading out again.
They're stockpiling the wood now;
they've given up on Starfleet coming any time soon. They don't understand why they've been
forgotten. Starfleet should care about a
shuttle going missing. Especially one carrying the flagship's captain and first officer.
She thinks none of them want
to mention that Starfleet might already have been there and gone. The shuttle's engines overloaded, eventually
exploding but not before Spock managed to eke out enough control to make a hard
but safe landing. Bought
them enough time to get away from the explosion and the radiation that flooded
the area.
Radiation
that made it too dangerous to spend any significant amount of time near the
crash site. Radiation that might have masked three small
life signs if Starfleet did come. A search party could have beamed
down and gone again never knowing that the dead still lived. Still waited for someone to
find them.
Jim still goes back to the
site. She used to go with him but finds
the journey too depressing to continue.
Before they fled the radiation, they left markers, wrote messages in the
snow. But the winds blew the sticks and
bones away or fresh snow covered everything up. If they had been able to salvage more from
the ship, they could have set up a beacon, one that would never be blown away
or covered. But there had been no time
to do more than grab the closest thing and run.
To run as fast as they could and marvel that they were
alive at all.
She looks over at Spock. He seems to sense her eyes on him, looks
up. He is sitting near the fire. Of all of them, he suffers the most in this
cold. He is wrapped now in one of the
emergency blankets that she grabbed when they fled the shuttle. He shivers and she walks over to him, pulls
her own blanket off and wraps it around him.
He does not shy away from her
touch any longer. Just nods as she tucks
the blanket against the other. In a few
minutes, he will rise and put it back around her shoulders. But for now he will allow her to pamper him.
It's the least she can
do. He saved them after all. Saved them from whoever sabotaged the
engines. Spock is sure the overloading
was not natural. Someone wanted to kill
them.
Well, not her probably. She is inconsequential. A nurse who should have
been leaving the ship. Nobody's target.
But the two
of them? The great Kirk and Spock. She supposes there are
any number of people who would like to see them dead.
And they should have been
dead. But whoever tried to kill them
didn't count on Spock's ingenuity. The
planet should have been out of range.
But Spock pushed the shuttle, bought them time enough to land,
bone-jarringly hard but safely.
On this horrible frigid world
where nobody knows they are trapped.
"Jim is working too
hard," Spock says, and she knows he is right.
"Jim hasn't given up
yet."
Not like she and Spock
have.
He meets her eyes, his are
calm, resigned. She knows hers are the
same.
"It has been over three months,"
Spock says.
She nods. "Jim's stubborn."
She doesn't remember when she
stopped thinking of him as the captain and started to think of him as Jim. When she started calling
him that. When
it became natural for her to talk to Spock about him, to talk to him about
Spock. She supposes the two of
them talk to each other about her.
She moves away, goes back to
testing the roots she found in the far clearing with the tricorder
that Spock grabbed from the shuttle.
They are full of vitamins, and she puts them with the other things she's
found for them to eat, things that are more for Spock than for Jim and
her. They eat the animals Jim
kills. Spock will not.
She has ranged far to find
him things he will eat. She would range
farther if it means keeping him alive.
She wanders to the cave
entrance, shivers as the wind comes up.
She sees Jim coming back holding one of the rabbit-like creatures that he
kills with the phaser he took a dangerous extra
second to grab from the shuttle before he ran after them.
The meat has an odd taste,
but the fur is lush, and she uses it for many things. It seems ironic to her that in this time long
past sutures, she is learning to take sinew and stitch animal skins together to
keep them warm. She made liners for
their boots first. Their feet were
always cold and she feared frostbite more than she ever told the two of
them.
The fur is warm, not as warm
as the emergency blankets but much better than their flimsy uniforms. She looks over at their sleeping area near
the fire, where the robe she created by sewing the hides together into great
blocks covers the hard ground, keeping the terrible chill from them. The small pieces of fur go to reinforce where
their uniforms are already fraying. She
wants to make gloves next. Traced Spock's hands onto a hide with a piece of charcoal one
night. She'll cut it out and sew
it during the next storm.
She had never sewn anything
in her life before they were stranded.
Jim does not bring the rabbit
thing into the cave. Spock does not like
to watch him dress the meat, or skin the creature. Spock does not mind watching her sew the furs
into something useful, but that is after she has scraped the hide, rubbing it
clean with snow and then letting it dry by the fire. She ruined the first few skins, got the fur
too wet and it dried gummy. Now she is
more careful.
Jim tosses her the hide. "Where's your blanket?"
She nods inside.
"It's too cold out here
to be without it." He doesn't offer
her his. But she knows he would if they
were inside and he thought she was cold.
She walks back to the
fire. Spock is already pulling the
blanket off, gives it back to her. He
looks at her hand with distaste and she realizes she has brought the bloody
skin in with her.
She rolls her eyes. "You won't mind so much when this is keeping
you warm."
He does not argue with
her. They both know it is true. They will all do what they need to in order
to survive.
She walks back out to
Jim. He still holds the rabbit, but he
is staring at the sky. His expression is
so bleak that she has to look away.
He turns to her. "You don't believe in rescue anymore, do
you?"
"No."
He looks up again, as if he
could will a ship into orbit, a Starfleet search party down to the planet.
"Spock doesn't
either," she says softly.
"I know." He goes back to cutting the meat off the
carcass.
She doesn't interrupt his
silence, just works on the hide until her hands are too cold to hold the bone
scraper Spock made from an earlier kill.
Nothing is wasted. Everything has
potential.
"Christine?" His voice is so soft she can barely hear
him. "I don't know how to give
up."
She smiles. "I know.
You can keep believing for all of
us." She gets up, sets the hide
just inside the cave and goes to the fire to warm up.
Spock is making more tools
from the bones of Jim's earlier kills.
Bones she and Jim have washed for him, before he fashions them into
knives and needles and other things they can use to more efficiently skin and
scrape the meat he detests.
She crouches down next to
him, watches as he carefully carves a large leg bone. "A knife?"
He shakes his head. "A spade of sorts. It will make it easier to dig the tubers you
found for me."
She smiles. "Good idea."
He reaches into the pile of
smaller bones he has already carved.
"I made you another scraper.
I can sharpen the one you have."
She nods. Takes the new scraper and goes back outside.
"What did he invent
now?" Jim asks.
"Gardening
tools."
He laughs. "When he makes us some brandy, let me
know."
"Or
coffee."
He nods. Spock does not seem to mind, but both she and
Jim are tired of having only water to drink.
Although they should probably count themselves lucky--they'd die without
water. And it is plentiful, as long as
the snow holds.
And according to Spock, it
will hold for several more months. Or perhaps forever.
Christine thinks he does not want to tell them the truth,
that he pretends there are too many variables to predict if a thaw will
happen. She wonders if he thinks that
they will lose hope, stop caring.
Jim fixes the meat onto long
bone skewers that Spock made. He buries
the skewers in the snow to stay cold until they are ready to cook it. So far, they have seen no predators, nothing
comes to steal their meat or nose around the skins. They have seen no other people either.
"Do you think the snow
will ever go away?" she asks.
Jim shakes his head.
"Me neither." She finishes scraping the hide. It used to take her hours to prep one, now
she is efficient, very fast. She gathers
up the bits of flesh and bone, carries them to the hole they've dug to one side
of the cave entrance. Nothing rots in
this cold, or if it does, it doesn't stink in the process. She wipes her hands off in the snow.
What she wouldn't give for a
warm bath.
She prayed they'd find thermal
springs, maybe a lovely, warm pool in the cave that they could get truly clean
in. But there is no pool. They wash by melted snow, with a soap that Spock
fashions from the fat of the rabbit things mixed with ash and made fragrant by
a decoction of tree needles and resin.
It is better than nothing.
The cave isn't big enough for
them to have any privacy. If she is
bathing, the other two go outside. She
does the same for them. Their latrine is
outside, another hole at the side of the cave.
Sometimes she hopes it doesn't thaw.
The entrance of the cave will stink with their refuse if they have to
stay as long as she fears on this planet.
She sighs, feels Jim's hand
on her shoulder. His touch feels good,
warm as it rests on her blanket.
"Let's go inside."
She brings the hide, hangs it
near the fire to dry. Spock has put one
of the tubers in a pot over the fire to boil.
It will take hours before it is ready to eat. But once done, it will provide him with
needed nutrients, even some small amount of protein. She worried that they would not be able to
find him any of that, that he'd be forced to eat the animal flesh that repelled
him. She is glad he will not have to.
She yawns. The days are too long on this world to sleep
by the changing of the light, so they sleep when they are tired. She lies down, stares at the cave ceiling.
Jim stands over her, staring
down at her, then looking over at Spock.
He suddenly turns away, as if angry at one or both of them.
She sits up. Looks over at Spock who is watching
Jim. Spock frowns, turns to her
and lets his eyebrow form a question.
She shrugs, unsure what is wrong.
"Jim?" Spock asks.
"What are we doing
here?"
"We crashed
here." She tries to make the words
light.
"No, Christine. What are we _doing_ here? We have no damn purpose. No reason for being alive."
"We are alive. Is that not reason enough for continued
existence?" Spock continues to
carve the spade.
She frowns at Spock. He looks back at her, his expression
even. Almost amused.
"Jim?" She pushes herself to her feet, walks over to
him. "What's wrong?" She touches his arm and he pulls away as if
burned.
She looks over at Spock. His eyebrow rises slowly, then
he gets up. "Jim?"
"I just need some time
alone."
"In here?" Christine does not feel like going outside
again, she is just starting to get warm.
Jim pulls his blanket around
him tighter. "I'll go
out." He starts to leave. Is brought up short by
Spock's hand on his arm.
"I believe it is time
that we had a talk." Spock's voice
is calm, measured. "The
three of us."
Christine can feel her heart
beating in a way that makes her immediately angry. She feels a flush, is embarrassed at how
undisciplined her thoughts are. She
turns away, afraid that Spock will see how much she needs to be touched. Has needed that for some
time. She gets little opportunity
to touch herself, to work off the pent up desire.
And the desire she has is for
both of them. Desire for Spock, the man
she loved so desperately for so long.
The man who now fashions spades for her out of bone and tries to make
her soap smell prettier. And for Jim. The
captain she barely knew, who now jokes with her and hunts with her and has
snowball fights with her.
She gathers up her
blanket. She will go outside.
"Christine, do not go." Spock's voice is firm.
She stops, unsure what to
do.
She feels a hand on her
shoulder, turning her toward Jim. Sees that Spock has turned Jim to face her.
"You are both
human. You have certain needs. I am not unaware of this."
"Spock, for god's
sake," Jim says.
"Do you not want
her?" Spock looks at her. "Do
you not want him?" He gathers up
his blanket. "I will go."
"It's not that
simple," she says. She studies
Jim's face as he looks at her then at Spock.
She can see he is aroused. She
can sense it is not just by her.
Spock is waiting for her to
get to the point.
"We do want each
other. But we want you too." She looks at Jim.
He looks down for a moment as
if admitting what he wants will be a betrayal.
She takes his hand. "It's not giving up to give in to
this."
"Isn't it? Isn't that exactly what this is?"
Spock is frowning. "No.
It is survival." He starts
to turn away.
Christine looks down. "Spock, if you want him but not
me..."
She feels Jim's hand on her
shoulder. "Or me?"
"You do not need to
include me."
"You don't want to be
included?" Jim asks, a trace of the old Kirk in
his voice.
"I did not say
that." The look Spock turns on Jim
is fierce.
Christine swallows hard,
gently pulls away from Jim's hand. She
takes her blanket, wraps it around her shoulders. "I'll go."
She does not get very far
before Spock says, "I do not want you to."
She turns. They are frozen, as if in some odd
tableau. Three of them, standing like
the points of a triangle in the darkness of the cave.
"I've never...with
two..." she is embarrassed beyond words.
She is also aroused just as much.
"And you think we
have?" Jim smiles, a tight
smile. He is embarrassed too.
It is Spock who is not
embarrassed. Spock who
is ever logical. "I believe
it should be most interesting." He
looks at her, his eyes seem to burn.
"I would not want to choose between you."
They stand, motionless. She breaks the spell first. Moves closer to the fire. Begins to take off what's left of her
uniform. Jim follows suit. Spock stands back, watching them, an odd tilt
to his mouth.
"You
now." Jim's voice is commanding.
Christine smiles as Spock
obeys his captain.
Jim holds out a hand to each
of them. "They've forgotten us. I have to accept that."
She takes his hand, is pulled
against him. Spock is soon on his other
side. They are both holding Jim, Vulcan-hot
hands and her own cooler ones running over his
body.
"We will not
forget," Spock whispers. He kisses Jim first, a hard, passionate kiss, as
if he has been waiting his whole life to do it.
Jim strokes his hair, his
cheek. Then he turns to her and kisses
her a way she's never been kissed before, as if she's the only thing in the
universe. She moans, feels
hands, too many hands to be just his on her body. She moans again.
When she and Jim pull away
from each other, Spock is standing in front of them. He draws her to him, kisses her with a
passion that surprises her. All the old
emotions--feelings she worked hard to put down when it was clear they were
stuck together--come rushing back.
Jim is kissing her neck and
she groans at the sensation of them both loving her. Spock pulls away and she nestles against him
while Jim moves around, kissing him again.
Spock's hand is fondling her, even as Jim's is fondling Spock. She sinks down onto the sleeping fur, feels
both of them follow her down.
Then there is only
sensation. The feeling
of lips and tongues moving down her body, one of them entering her, the other's
fingers teasing her, her mouth on them as they love each other. She can't keep track of who is touching her
and who is being touched and realizes that Spock has melded with them both,
that they are all one.
She feels Jim's refusal to
give up, a stubbornness that wars daily with sheer despair that he has failed
them, and failed his ship. She feels
Spock's discomfort from the cold, a discomfort he puts down relentlessly as he
finds ways to make himself useful, to serve.
And she feels their reactions as they understand her fear that they
would shut her out, her own loneliness and anger at being gypped of the future
she finally was brave enough to pursue.
Spock pulls her close, she
feels Jim press against her back. His
arms wrap around her waist and Spock covers them with his own. They kiss, warm, loving kisses, one to one to
the other.
She yawns, hears Jim do the
same.
Spock pulls a blanket over
them all and they watch the shadows flicker on the wall from the fire. The tuber will be done soon, and Jim can get
the meat and cook it, and they will eat.
The meld is slowly fading, leaving behind a warm, loving touch in her
mind. She moans, feels
Jim's lips on her neck, Spock's on her forehead.
She sighs happily, allows
herself to drift while the two men softly talk.
She hears very little of what they say, just sinks into the warmth that
is still between them all.
She suddenly harbors the hope
that Starfleet will never find them.
Knows that it's a selfish thought, but decides not to care.
"Maybe it's not so bad
to be forgotten," she mumbles, as she nestles closer to them. They press warm hands against her, one of
them kisses her but she is too tired to figure out which one.
Then her two lovers kiss each
other as she falls asleep, securely held between them.
FIN