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) 2010 by Djinn. This
story is Rated R.
The Needs of the Many
by Djinn
Chapel
walked into the mess hall, saw Spock in line and turned around and headed back
to her quarters. She had an energy bar
stashed away somewhere; it would taste like shit, but it would be better than
having to watch Spock react to her presence in line as proof that she was
stalking him.
She'd
already had to endure one lecture from him in sickbay, when he was recovering
from the meld with V'ger. In the twenty minutes Kirk had given him to
throw off V'ger's effects, he'd managed to allocate
two minutes to making sure she understood that his experience did not mean he
would be darkening her door. Only he'd
said it in a Vulcan way.
Made
a girl feel special, to know someone would carve time out of their busy crisis
for a quick admonishment.
"Wait." A deep voice. Not a familiar one. "Doctor Chapel, right?"
She
turned. A tall man, cute in a mild sort
of way, was hurrying toward her. She'd
given him his report-in physical. What
was his name?
"Hi."
She
nodded, could feel how tight her lips were--remnants of any time spent around
Spock.
She'd
given up on him: that was what burned her the most--she'd done nothing to
deserve his little lecture.
"I'm
Seth. We met--well, you checked me in
the other day."
Seth
Miller. A lieutenant just like she
was. She remembered him now. A nice enough guy.
He
gestured back toward the mess hall.
"I don't know anyone yet, and I wondered if maybe you wanted to eat
with me?"
"I'm
not really that hungry."
"So
does that mean you're still a little hungry?" He grinned at her, his green eyes lighting
up, and she smiled despite her bad mood.
"I
am a little hungry." She nodded
toward the mess. "I'd be happy to
join you."
Happy
was stretching it, but he didn't need to know that.
They
got their food and found a table thankfully very far from Spock.
"It
seems weird to call you Doctor Chapel if we're having lunch together."
"My
name's Christine."
"Pretty."
"I
guess." She smiled to take away how
bitchy that sounded. "Do you like
the ship?"
He
nodded. Out of the corner of her eye,
Chapel saw Spock get up. Miller glanced
over, then leaned in and said, "I don't like them."
"Them?"
"Vulcans."
"I
see."
"They
have this philosophy: the needs of the
many--"
"Outweigh
the needs of the few. Yes, I'm acquainted
with it." Hell, she'd goddamned
memorized it and a lot of other random pieces of Vulcan trivia back during that
first mission.
"The
few or the one. People don't matter to them."
"Actually,
by that definition, people do matter. A person
doesn't."
Miller
looked annoyed. "Right. An individual doesn't matter." He tucked into his food for a moment, then said, "I know this from experience."
"Hmm." She tried to keep her response as
noncommittal as possible; she was regretting sitting down with this man.
"See,
they want you to think they're good guys, but they're not."
She
pushed her tray away and shook her head.
"Seth, you seem like a nice guy." Or he had before he opened his mouth. "I'm going to give you a little
tip. That Vulcan you don't like because
of the planet he comes from, he's our first officer and a very good friend of
the captain. Your opinions are not going
to be welcome here."
"Thought
the Federation encouraged freedom of speech?"
"You
want to hate Vulcans, I can't stop you.
But how about you try keeping that hatred in your head instead of
verbalizing it?" She stood. "Good luck on the ship."
"Christine?" He reached out, his hand clamping down on her
wrist.
"It's
been a weird few weeks, Seth. You have
no idea. Now, unless you want me to
write you up as mentally unstable, you will let go of me." She stared him down.
He
let go. "I lost someone that I
cared about. To
him."
"To
Spock?" She could not keep the incredulity out of her
voice.
"Not
like that. Not romantically. She was in a landing party. He could have rescued her. He could have."
"When
did this happen?"
"Two
years ago."
She
sat back down. "Did you request
this ship?"
He
didn't look away. "Maybe."
"Why?"
"Best
ship in the fleet. Newest
ship now with the refits."
"You
know I will check to see when you requested transfer. Was it because Spock was back?"
He
shrugged. "Maybe it was because
Kirk was?"
"Did
you come here to do something to Spock?"
"No. Jeez.
What do you think? I'm going to
attack him on the way to shift some day?"
He
didn't seem to be lying, didn't give any of the signs she was used to--and she
saw a lot of them from people who said they were exercising more than they
were, or that they weren't drinking too much, or overeating.
He
was studying her, too. "You care
about him, don't you?" He nodded
when she didn't answer. "You're
very protective of him."
"I'm
protective of anyone on the crew--especially my friends."
"So
he's your friend?"
"Not
really, no. But we've served together
for years. I respect him." Too bad he didn't respect her.
"He
doesn't deserve your respect."
Miller went back to eating.
Chapel
got up. "I'll be watching. As a doctor, I mean."
"Watch
away." He smiled at her, as if he wasn't
concerned in the least.
Meanwhile,
concern was flooding her.
---------------------
Chapel
spent most of the downtime on her shift looking into Miller's background. He had an exemplary record--just what she'd
expect to see for someone assigned to the Enterprise.
She
debated going to see Spock, finally settled for sending him a comm on his
private channel. Her message was
terse. "New crewman on board--Lt.
Seth Miller--may harbor grudge against you.
Not sure what you want to do with this information. Was sure you wouldn't want me to deliver it
in person."
She
almost deleted the last line. Then she
decided to keep it in. Screw him; it was
the truth.
An
hour later, Spock was at her office door.
"May I come in?"
"Suit
yourself."
He
palmed the door shut and took one of the chairs in front of her desk. "I appreciate the note you sent
me."
"Just
doing my job."
"If
you had been just doing your job, you would have told me in person."
She
should have deleted that damn line. Truth or not.
"Christine?"
She
tried to hide her surprise at hearing her first name, probably failed
miserably. "He said you allowed
someone he cared about, someone on a landing party, to be killed."
"I
know the person to whom he is referring.
Teresa Salazar. She was part of
the landing party at Gamma Upsilon."
She
remembered that one. It had been right
before she transferred off. Kirk had
been back at Command. And Spock had been
in charge. It had been a nasty
situation, one that had no good solution.
Spock had done what was best for the ship; it had not, unfortunately,
been what was best for the landing party.
"It
wasn't in Miller's record," she said.
"That he was involved with her."
"You
checked?" The unspoken "For
me?" was very loud.
"I
did. I was curious."
"Ah." He leaned back. "I notified the next of kin. Her family told me of her association with
Miller."
"You talked to him?"
"No,
they said they preferred to do it."
He held her gaze. "He is
angry, I take it?"
"He
blames you for her death."
"As
I was responsible, this is not illogical."
"He
hates you for her death."
"That is more problematic." He
looked away. "I will consider what
is best in this situation."
"Good. I'm out of it, then." She pretended to be absorbed in the report on
her terminal.
"I
am sorry, Christine, for the way I acted."
"Oh? How did you act?"
She
glanced over at him. He almost looked
amused.
"Oh,
you mean, when you were the ass who told me to stay away from you when I hadn't
even come near you?"
"Yes,
thank you for the colorful summary."
"No
big deal." She turned back to the
screen.
"I
believe I was telling you that because I was unsure of myself. It was important that you stayed away. I was...uncertain as to what I was
feeling. V'ger--the
experience with it--was intense. I did
not want to reach out--"
"Sound
policy. I'm a handful." She didn't look up this time.
"If
you would let me finish? I did not
wish to reach out if I was only going to hurt you in the end." His voice sounded both amused and frustrated. "But it has been some time since the
meld, and I am free of its effects. I
wish to make amends."
"No
need. I'm over you, Spock." She looked over at him. "O-V-E-R. Over."
"I
see." He stood, seemed unsure
whether to stay or go.
"Watch out for Miller. And don't
let the door hit you on the way out."
God, she'd waited forever to say that to him.
Even
if it made no sense in the age of pneumatic safety doors.
---------------------------
A
soft cough sounded at her door, and Chapel looked up to see Miller there. "Hey," he said, "about the
other day...can we start over?"
"I
don't think so."
He
nodded, as if he'd expected that answer.
"Can I at least try to explain myself a little better?"
"Why?"
"Because
I feel just sick about how I must have come off to you."
"To
Christine your shiny new friend?
Or to Doctor Chapel, an officer who can declare you unfit for duty if
she thinks you're harboring a dangerous obsession?"
He
looked sheepish. "A
little of both?"
"Come
in." She didn't tell him to shut
the door and he didn't ask if he could; he just sat down in the same chair
Spock had been in a few days earlier and took a deep breath.
"Okay,
before I got to the mess that day, I passed Spock in the corridors. I know it's not realistic to expect him to
know me, for him to have looked me up because of Teresa, but I guess I wanted
him to have done that. He's such a
central character in the great tragedy of my life, and I'm...nothing to
him. He looked right through me. You have no idea what that's like."
Oh,
he might be surprised. She chose not to
tell him that. "So you were
angry?"
"I
was. And frustrated. And sad. And feeling all the things I felt when I
heard she died--he didn't even tell me.
I had to hear it from her parents."
"I
think--" Did
she want to let him know how much digging she'd done? "I think he would have contacted you if
they'd asked him to. Were you
engaged? Should he have known to notify
you?"
He shook his head. "No. It was...it was kind of a new thing. I mean, not really new, but not engagement
time. Teresa was off on the Enterprise
and I was on Earth. And I never knew
what was happening to her, or what she was doing. Do you have any concept how hard that
is? A long-distance
relationship?"
"I
do, actually. I was engaged to someone
on a mission that went very badly."
"I'm
sorry. Did you lose him?"
"I
did." And that was as much of the
tale as she had told anyone, except for Len, Jan, and Ny. And Kirk
and Spock already knew.
"I'm
sorry, Christine."
She
gave him a stern look.
"I
can't call you that?"
"Doctor
Chapel is probably better."
His
lips tightened. "Okay. Sure."
He laughed, shook his head.
"Still the crazy guy, huh? I
bet you ran right to Spock to warn him, didn't you?"
"Yes,
I did." She thought it wise he realize he was on thin ice.
"That
wasn't necessary."
"Nevertheless..."
He
got up. "Have I made it at all
better?"
"You've
made it more understandable."
"Okay. Well, good." He smiled, but it wasn't a very happy
expression. "I like you. I really...regret having put you off
me."
"I'm
just your doctor, Seth. You shouldn't
think of me as anything more."
"Not
even a friend?"
"I'm
sure you'll make other friends soon."
She gave him a smile that was no doubt lacking--she wasn't sure he would
make friends, not unless he quit being the crazy-with-a-grudge guy.
-------------------
Shore
Leave was boring. Another
bar like the last one, same conversation as the last time. Ny
looking around for new meat to take advantage of. Jan pretending not to be
doing the same. Chapel wondering
what the hell she was doing there when there was work to do.
A
glass appeared in front of her.
"I
didn't order this."
"Your
admirer did," the bartender said, pointing to the far end of the bar.
She
looked up, expecting to see Miller, as if a drink could make her forget their
conversation. But there was no
Miller. Spock was sitting with Kirk and
Len.
She
looked down, frowning, as if the drink might
disappear, then she looked back at them.
Kirk was laughing, shrugging and nodding toward Spock when she made a
"What the hell is this?" gesture.
Spock
nodded to her, got up, and left the bar.
She
took the drink and walked over to where Kirk and Len were sitting. "You put him up to that, I take
it?"
"We
did not." Kirk had his best,
"No, sir, not us," look, but Len actually looked dumbfounded.
"Len?"
"He
asked me what you like to drink. I told
him. He ordered it."
"Why?"
"Hell
if we know." Kirk grinned at her.
"Something you're not telling us?"
"I
told him I was over him."
"Pfffff."
Len waved that idea away.
"You'll be over him when pigs fly."
"Well,
don't tell him that, Bones. Chris may
have made an impression." Kirk took
a drink. "Finally."
"I
seriously doubt that." She toasted
them and took a big drink. "Well,
now that I sort of understand why I have a fresh glass, I'm going to go back to
the girls."
"Can
we join you? We're bored."
She
drained the drink. "Why
don't you go on over. I'm going
to see if--"
"Oh,
for God's sake, here we go." Len
rolled his eyes.
Kirk
punched him in the arm, saving her the trouble.
"Go get him, tiger."
"I
just want to say thank you to him."
"With
what part of your body?" Len asked.
Kirk
punched him again.
"Stop
doing that."
She
left them arguing, found Spock sitting not too far from the bar. "So, you're buying me drinks?"
"I
am."
"You
realize what that means in human terms?"
"I
do."
She
laughed. "And what do you think it
means?"
"That
I am interested in you."
She
sat down next to him. "No, you're
not."
"I
am not?"
"Nope. I just said the magic word."
He looked confused.
"Over. As in 'I'm over you.'"
"Ah,
that magic word." His lips turned
up ever so slightly.
"What? You don't think I am?"
"You
accepted my drink. Does that not mean
you are interested in me?"
"No,
sir, it does not." At his lifted
eyebrow, she laughed. "A woman can
take the drink, enjoy it, and then blow you off with abandon."
"I
see." His lips tilted in a slightly
different direction.
"Yep. We can use and abuse."
"You
are enjoying this."
"Spock,
I've chased you for how long? Of course I'm
enjoying this." She laughed at his
expression. "Besides, it's the most
exciting thing that's happened on this sorry excuse for a planet."
"You
are bored? It is not just I who longs
for the ship this time?"
"Not
just you, my friend." She leaned back. "Pretty place. Nothing going on." She turned to look at him. "Has Miller given you any trouble?"
"He
has not. I have seen him, but he has not
done anything to arouse my concern."
"Good. He came back to see me. Tried to allay any worries I had."
"Are
you sure that is why he came back?"
Spock leaned in toward her.
"Perhaps he is interested in you?"
"Perhaps. But I'm not interested in him." She glanced at him and saw the briefest
flicker of satisfaction. "Which
does not mean I'm not O-V-E-R you."
"Understood."
They
sat for a few minutes, the silence companionable but not very exciting. But then nothing on this planet was.
Spock
rose. "I have an experiment I must
see to."
"Bio?"
"Biochemistry,
to be precise."
She
knew she was failing to contain her interest.
"If
you would care to help me?
It is a fascinating experiment."
She
wondered if this was the Vulcan equivalent of "Come up and see my
etchings." Then again, she actually
did want to see the experiment. She stood
up, gave him a big smile. "I think
I would care to help you."
"Shall
we go, then?"
"We
shall." She didn't think the others
would miss her.
Or
maybe she just didn't care.
-------------------------
"Here." A mug of
coffee was pushed into her hand, and she looked up to see Spock hovering over
their experiment. It had become their
experiment when she'd added several new twists to what he'd been doing.
He'd
been impressed. He hadn't tried to hide
it.
She'd
been babysitting their experiment for the last six hours after pulling double
shifts in sickbay, had let her head rest on the table and fell into what she
used to call "the lab doze."
Just awake enough to push buttons and log bleary observations.
She
pushed herself up so she was leaning on one hand and checked out the
coffee. Just the way she liked it; he
was obviously paying attention to her and what she preferred. She sipped at it gingerly; it was very hot. "Thanks."
"You
are welcome." He sat down next to
her. "Are you hungry?"
"Did
you bring me food?"
"No,
but I will get you food once I know what you want. I knew you would require coffee to form
complete sentences."
She
laughed, then let her head slump again. "Complete sentences are too much
work."
"What
would you like?"
"You
won't remember."
"I
am a Vulcan; I will remember. Tell
me."
She felt something moving her hair, realized he was playing with it. She turned her head so she could see his
face. "If this is the Pon Farr, just say so."
"It
is not."
"Do
I have something in my hair you're trying to get out?"
"No." He let his hand slide down, rubbing her neck
firmly.
She groaned; he was really good at that.
"Okay, then. Two eggs over
easy, three strips of bacon, three strips of sausage, those really good country
potato things they do, and rye toast with butter."
He
got up and left. Not too long later he
came back with everything she'd ordered and some oatmeal for himself.
"You
have a bright future as a waiter, Spock."
His
lips curled up slightly.
"Aren't
you going to comment on the unhealthy nature of my food? Or how much of it there is?" She forced herself to a sitting position and
dug in. Food really did taste better
when someone brought it to you.
"No,
you are a doctor, so I have no doubt you recognize the nutritional value of
everything you are eating. You are also
clearly hungry or you would not have ordered the amount of food you did--which
is not an inordinate quantity, in my estimation." He stopped to think. "Although it is conceivable you were
testing my ability to bring you what you wanted, but if that were the case, you
would have made it a far more complicated order."
"Yep,
I would have mixed it up. Eggs
scrambled, but only the whites, gluten bacon from non
genetically modified wheat, and whole grain toast with organic butter and
sugar-free raspberry jam made with no pectin." She laughed softly. "And a cherry on
top."
He
looked over at her.
"Just
something my dad used to say."
"Your
dad was in Starfleet, I believe?"
"Yep. He was a computer engineer. We moved a lot when I was young."
"Did
you enjoy that?"
"Nope. Hated it. Never got to stay
anywhere."
"I
stayed on Vulcan most of my life. It was
not a pleasant childhood."
"Sorry."
"The
Enterprise and this crew must be very important to you, then. Someplace you can call home."
"Some
people I can call friends?" She
nodded. "There are also some
not-so-pleasant memories."
"Having
to do with me?"
"Yes. Well, more how I acted with you. After all, you never asked me to get a big
old crush on you." She focused on
her food for a while.
"Are
you entirely certain you are over me?"
"O-V-E-R." She saw he was done with his oatmeal, offered
him some toast, and he took a piece.
"I
see." He ate the toast slowly.
"So,
I have an idea for a follow-on experiment.
If you want to keep going, I mean?"
"Our
experiments are not over, then?"
She
sipped her coffee, tried to look nonchalant.
"Well, if you want them to be, then I'm fine with that."
"I
did not say I want them to be."
"Then,
I guess they're not over."
"That
is...acceptable."
He
helped himself to another piece of toast; she smiled as he did it.
------------------
Chapel
saw Miller in the mess, tried to work up a real smile as he walked over.
"Hey,
stranger," he said.
"Hey." She could tell Spock was coming up behind her
by the look on Miller's face.
"Lieutenant,"
Spock said, his voice very mild.
"Sir." There was a hint of something there, not
anger exactly. Pain, maybe?
She
turned to Spock. "I'll be there in
a sec."
"Of
course."
He moved away, toward the line for food.
"So. You and him. Not sure what I think about that." Miller leaned in. "I thought you weren't friends."
"Spock
and my relationship is none of your business."
"So
you have a relationship?"
"I
just said..." She could feel anger,
frustration. When she was in med school,
she'd worked out nervous energy in a martial arts regime. She'd never gotten all that good, but it had
helped her to channel her nerves. She
took a deep breath, tried to center the way her instructor had taught her. "How are you getting on?" she
finally asked Miller.
"Me? I'm fine.
Thanks for asking."
She
knew he was telling the truth, at least work wise. She'd checked his file. Nothing but good reports
from his section chief. She had
no idea if he had any friends or not.
She definitely wasn't eager to be one.
"Glad to hear it. If you'll excuse me?"
"Of
course, Christine."
She glared at him.
He
smiled back, turned, and left the mess.
She
watched him for a moment, then went to join
Spock. She was surprised to realize she
was on alert, the way her instructor had taught her to be when readying for a
fight. She breathed in slowly, breathed
out and waited, existing in the non-breath.
"Are
you all right?"
She
looked up at Spock and nodded as she slowly took another breath.
"Then
why are you doing Vulcan calming techniques?"
She
laughed. "Korean. Korean techniques."
"My
mistake." He glanced back at the door. "Did he upset you?"
"If
he did, it was because I let him. It's
just..." She moved closer, saw him
lean down so he could hear her better.
"Something about him bothers me."
"If
you wish him removed from the ship, I will look for a reason."
She
studied him, realized they were holding up the line and nudged him gently. "You'd do that for me?"
"Yes."
"It
would be an inappropriate use of your position."
"I
realize that."
She
smiled. "Fascinating."
"I
thought you might think it so."
-------------------------
Chapel
was sitting in the lab with Spock, watching their latest experiment fail to
yield results. "I don't
understand. We did everything
right." She took a deep breath,
held it.
Spock
reached in, sliding his hand across her ribs, onto her belly. He pushed in gently. "Breathe from here."
"I
know. I know."
"If
you know, then do it."
She
concentrated on breathing from her diaphragm, knew she was succeeding when her
shoulders quit moving as she inhaled and exhaled.
"Excellent." Spock's breath was warm on her ear, his hand
still pressing on her stomach.
"Where did you study?"
"Master
Yi's. He taught Kuk Sool Won."
"I
am acquainted with the system, and I lectured for him on meditation in the
Vulcan tradition. He is an excellent
instructor. How far did you get?"
"Not
far." She leaned back against
him. "Yellow
belt." She'd always wanted
to do better, but medical school had taken so much time. "I didn't do it to learn to defend
myself, although I suppose I do know how to do that a lot better now than I did
during our first voyage. I took it
because med school was hard--really hard--and I was charging as fast as I could
through it, and this took the edge off."
"You
do not have to justify it to me."
He moved his hand, easing it up, to lie just under her breasts. "Computer, lock door."
"What
are you doing?"
"Taking
the edge off." He turned
her and stood still, simply watching her for the longest time. Then he leaned in and kissed her, wrapping
his arms around her, pulling her close.
The
kiss lasted forever. On the scale of
best to worst kisses she'd ever had, it was off the goddamn charts. When he finally let her go, she almost fell.
"For
the record," she said, as she tried to catch her breath, "I'm still
over you."
"I
expected no less." He pushed her up
onto a stool and let her wrap her legs around him, let her pull him close and
kiss him the way she'd always wanted to.
"O,"
she said as he kissed down her neck.
"V," came out as barely a breath as he ran his hands under her
uniform top. "E," she tried to
get out but failed as he pulled down her pants, as he slid his own down.
"Oh,
to hell with it," she said, as she pulled him inside her.
He
took her gently at first, then went faster and harder until she was moaning
against him. When she finally came down,
when he leaned hard against her, holding her tightly as she shuddered, he
whispered, "I am glad you are not truly over me."
"I
have not even begun to make you glad, mister."
He
held her to that promise, in the lab, and later, in his quarters.
She
was a long, long way from over him.
--------------------
"So,
missy." Len turned to look at her, and she had to
laugh at his expression. "You've
been a little scarce the past few weeks."
"I've
been reporting to shift, haven't I?"
"But
after hours. No rec
lounge time. No gym time. No lingering in the mess hall."
"I've
been in the lab." She knew she was
smiling way too big.
"The
lab that is often locked?"
She
handed him a carton full of spent hyposprays. "Is it locked? Hmmm, weird."
He
took the carton, waited as she grabbed another, then walked with her to the
drug storage area. "You
happy?"
"Yep."
"Well,
that's all right, then." He looked
up and rolled his eyes. "Can't keep
your green hands off her, eh, Spock?"
Spock nodded to Chapel as he walked in, merely lifted an eyebrow at Len. "I have a question of a technical
nature."
"Of
course you do."
"For
you, Doctor. Not for Christine." Christine had the feeling he would have
winked if he were human.
"Oh,
well, that's different." Len did
wink at her.
Spock
looked at her, his expression warm.
"You are well?"
"Just
dandy."
"That
is gratifying to hear."
"Oh,
for God's sake, quit pretending that you two aren't screwing like
minks." Len turned and stalked off
toward his office. "You
coming, Spock?"
She
made a face she hadn't made since she was a teen, caught making out in the
hallway, faced with the wrath of Jimmy Chapel--father from hell, if you were
his daughter's boyfriend.
Spock's
eyebrow went up again and his eyes fairly danced.
She smiled and began filling the hypos.
A moment later, she heard Len expounding on something medical, the low
murmur of Spock asking questions.
She
tuned them out and went back to work.
--------------------
Chapel
lazed naked in Spock's bed, watching as he moved around his quarters, lighting
incense, then the firepots. He knelt and rummaged around in a large
chest, finally drawing out a small Vulcan drum and two drumsticks made of some
kind of finely polished, nearly black wood.
He
handed her the drum, then the sticks.
She
held them gingerly. "I was never
very good at this."
"We
will do it together." He sat behind
her, and she backed up so she was sitting between his legs, the drum on the bed
in front of her. She picked up the
drumsticks; he settled his hand over hers.
"I
used to love to watch Master Yi do this."
"He
taught me some new techniques," Spock said.
"I
never saw him do this naked, though."
She laughed when he nipped her neck.
"We
begin," he whispered, then he gently pressed
down, urging but not forcing her to make contact with the drum.
Tap,
tap, tap. The
drum was higher pitched, less resonant than the ones she'd learned on. She moved the sticks, felt Spock stop urging
her, felt him just go along for the ride.
Clack--she hit the sticks together.
Then tap on the drum, clack with the sticks, tap and tap and tap and
clack.
"Breathe,"
Spock whispered. "Become the
sound."
She
breathed from her gut, great lungfuls of air easing
in and out of her. As the sticks flew,
as the drum sang, the counterstrikes of the sticks hitting together filled the
air. Spock took over, guiding their
joined hands, the drum suddenly sounding deeper as he struck it in the center,
first one stick, then the other barely behind it, the beats stronger than
hers. His clacks were heavier, too. The sticks coming together like fighting
staffs instead of reeds.
She
leaned back, was breathing hard, felt his lips against her neck; the drumbeats
didn't falter, and then Spock was beating out the sound of her heart, the
drumbeats racing, the sound of her: energized, alive.
She
slowed the beat, let it ease into something gentler, let
it stop finally. Tap,
tap, clack, clack, then silence, filling his quarters almost as tangibly as the
drumbeats had.
He
let go of her hands, and she held the sticks with one hand, picked up the drum
with another. She eased away from him,
climbed off the bed and carried the drum and sticks to the chest and laid them
on top. She remembered what Yi had
taught her and bowed to the four directions.
Then she walked back to Spock.
He
held his hand out, pulled her on top of him, sighing as she sank onto him. "That was...remarkable."
She
was shaking as she rode him, and he held her waist as if he knew how close she
was to breaking apart. As she came, he
pulled her down to him, kissed her almost viciously, then
rolled them, so he was on top, so he could pump into her until he came, too.
"I
love you," she murmured, watching his face.
He
kissed her gently as he rolled off her and pulled her in to cuddle against
him. "And I you,
Christine."
They
lay together, kissing languidly, then just lying
close. She fell asleep in his arms,
their hearts beating a lovely counterpoint.
------------------------
"You're
a hard woman to track down." Miller
stood in the doorway to her office, smiling pleasantly.
"Am
I? I'm here every shift." She turned away from her terminal, gave him
her attention.
He
palmed the door shut. "I see you
with him. You two seem happy. As much as a Vulcan can seem happy, I
mean."
She
shifted, tried to look more imposing with him looming over her. "I've told you before. My relationship with Spock is none of your
business."
"It
wouldn't have been. If it had stayed a
non-relationship." He sighed, then
he held out his hand. "Look, I'm
screwing this up again. I just wanted to
say that I'm happy for you. The stage
you're in now, the honeymoon stage, it's where Teresa and I were. I wish you well with your Vulcan love,
okay?"
She
didn't take his hand.
"Man,
you are stubborn." He moved
quickly, faster than she expected, and slapped his outstretched hand against
her arm.
She
felt the sting of a sharp point going through her uniform, into her skin. Then the burning sensation of some compound
being injected into her arm.
"What
are you doing?"
"I
didn't want to use you, Christine. I
thought you might be a kindred spirit.
Stealing you from him would have finished this, but you just wouldn't be
stolen."
"You
were never even close to stealing me and I--"
"Shut
up."
She shut up. She felt a strange
lassitude coming over her. Not
sleepiness, just an unwillingness to make a move.
"Stand
up."
She stood. "Which puppet drug did
you use?"
"None
of your damn business. And when I said
shut up, I meant do not talk again until I say you can. Understand?"
She
nodded.
"Good
girl." He moved very close to
her. "I'm going to leave. You are going to wait thirty seconds and then
come to auxiliary transporter room four on deck seven." He leaned in.
"If anyone tries to come with you, do not let them."
She
wanted to ask him why he was doing this, what he hoped to achieve. She wanted to tell him to go to hell. But the drug was powerful. She stood, mouth closed, waiting for him to
tell her what else to do.
"Thirty
seconds, Christine," he said and then casually walked out of her office.
She
waited, praying someone would come ask her a question, would wonder why she
wouldn't answer. But no one came. Thirty seconds passed and she walked, out of
sickbay and to the lift. She rode it to
deck seven, found the auxiliary transporter room. It was the least used of the transporter
rooms; she figured that was why he'd chosen it.
"Come
in. Sit down over there." He pointed to the floor in the back of the
transporter platform. She hurried up the
stairs and tried to sit as far away from the pad as she could.
She
watched as he worked on the panel, and she could feel the drug letting go of
her, but when she tried to talk, she only managed to make sounds, not
words. Still, it was better than dumb
compliance to his commands.
He
finished whatever he was doing at the panel.
"Your lover should be here soon.
I want him to really know what he did to me. I want him to have to
choose between you and the good of the ship." He was watching the door as he talked to her. "You were right. I did choose this ship because I heard Spock
was back. And I've had two years to plan
this."
She
realized he didn't know where Spock had gone between voyages. That if Gol had
gone as planned, Spock would have had no emotions, and there would have been no
affair. And no friends to blackmail him
with if a convenient girlfriend wasn't around.
But Gol hadn't gone as planned and they were having
an affair.
And Spock loved her. God help them both,
he loved her.
Why the hell hadn't she kicked Miller off the ship? Referred him in for a fitness for duty
workup? She'd been so busy trying to
play fair, seeing the similarities between them. Even though he gave her the creeps.
Why
the hell hadn't she listened to her inner bell?
That's what Master Yi had called it.
The thing--intuition, some elementary form of precognition--that told a
person when something was bad or dangerous.
What would Master Yi do in this situation?
He
wouldn't be sitting here worrying about what had gone wrong. He'd be planning for what was to come. Thinking--he'd be thinking.
The
blood was circulating through her bloodstream, and the more it moved, the less
concentrated it was getting, and the less control the drug had over her.
She
thought of the drum, envisioned holding the sticks with Spock, hitting the
drum, harder and harder and faster and faster.
She could feel her heart starting to speed up, managed to move one foot
and then the other, was able to slide her hand to the wall, clutch at the
fabric of her uniform with the other.
She
kept her breathing as calm as she could, while remembering the drums, then
adding memories of particularly vigorous sessions in bed with Spock. The man could screw like nobody's
business. Her heart jumped; she felt
more in control.
She
let herself think about her fantasies, all the things she wanted to do with
him, even things she only thought about doing but would never actually act
on. Nasty things. Dangerous things, even.
Her heart was racing.
"We
are all water in the stream of humanity," she murmured, the sound of one
of Master Yi's favorite sayings barely passing her lips. But she said it. She said it when she was
supposed to be sitting and not saying a word.
It
was working.
The
door opened, and Spock walked in. He
took one look at her, and she saw something change in his face.
He
really did love her. There was fear on
his face. Fear for her. "What is this, Lieutenant?"
Miller
tossed him a padd.
"Do you recognize this?"
"You
have set several key functions on overload.
That should be impossible from here."
"The
best minds are always available for a price.
And I've had nothing else to spend my money on, Spock. Believe me, it's possible and I've done
it."
"What
have you done to her?"
She
pretended to be struggling to talk, pretended to fail.
"It's
a drug that's not in her formulary. They
call it a puppet drug in the sex trade.
I doubt you've heard of it."
Spock
seemed to grasp the drug's function, glanced at her again, worry showing on his
face. "What do you want?"
"I
want you to make the same choice you did with my woman. The needs of the many and all that."
"You
will kill her if I choose the ship?"
"No,
Spock. You will kill her if you choose the ship."
"I
have no evidence you could even damage the ship."
Miller
hit a combination of panels, and an alert klaxon went off. The computer announced in its calm way,
"Warning, environmental controls failing."
"We're safe in here. You choose
her, and you'll be the only two alive on this ship when it's found."
"The
only two?"
"I
plan to beam off, have a little ship waiting manned by a creature of low morals
who doesn't mind taking my money in exchange for picking me up in the middle of
nowhere. He's nearby, looking busy. He's very good at that, in his line of
work."
The
computer chimed in again, "Environmental controls failure imminent."
"So,
I guess you're choosing her. So much for
your friends, for the hundreds of people you're condemning to death for one
person?"
"Turn
the controls back on."
She'd
known he'd do that. He had to do
it. She'd have had to do it, too, if
their situation was reversed.
Miller
turned the controls back on. Chapel
could imagine Kirk trying to figure out what was going on, and he would figure
it out, he and Scotty. And they'd do it
fast. This was a race, then. Whatever was going to happen to her would
happen fast.
"You're
going to kill her, Spock. Not with a phaser or a knife or any other weapon you could turn
against me. You're going to kill her
with your bare hands. Beat the woman you
care for to death."
Spock
turned to look at him. "Teresa
would not have wanted this."
"Don't
say her name like you knew her."
"I
did know her. Her death affected me,
just as every death of those under my command affects me."
"Yes,
I imagine it affects you deeply when you're fucking Christine here."
Spock
looked like he wanted to kill Miller. He
also looked like he might charge him and try to take over the panel.
Miller
moved closer to the panel. "I'm a
betting man, Spock. I'm betting if I
turn the controls off before you kill me, you won't get them fixed in time to
save the crew. So again, you'll have
made your choice for the one over the many."
Spock
clenched and unclenched his hands, but didn't move toward Miller.
"Good
boy." Miller glanced at her. "Christine, stand up."
Christine
stood, shifted slightly, not enough that he'd notice as she tried to warm up
her legs, to get rid of the pins and needles feeling.
Spock
turned, stalked toward her. When he
fully blocked her from Miller's view, she mouthed, "I'm not
helpless." Hardly a whisper, just
enough to carry to Vulcan ears.
His
eyebrow went up. She could tell he was
thinking, formulating a plan.
"I
fall well," she whispered. It was
the first thing she'd learned from Master Yi.
How to fall. How to take hits.
"If
you can't take hits, you'll never be able to fight," her teacher had
said. "If you can't fall well, the
fight will be over before it's your turn to hit."
"Come
on, Spock." Miller was clearly
getting restless. "Take the first
punch."
"I
am sorry," Spock said, and he clearly was, and she tried to show him it
was all right, that she understood.
The
first blow hit her jaw, she reeled but didn't fall. The second, in her chest, knocked her flat.
She
hit the floor well, using as much of her body as she could to land with, to
minimize damage to any one part. Pain
from his punches radiated from her jaw, erupted out from just below her solar
plexus, and the impact from the fall registered all over. But she was better than she should be, given
that a Vulcan was whaling on her.
Spock
had to be pulling his punches, only Miller didn't seem to realize it yet. Spock was also going for areas that weren't
lethal, but looked like they could be.
He was missing the sweet spots, a dangerous dance of millimeters.
She
met his eyes, tried to show him she believed he'd get them through this. It would be okay. It had to be okay.
She
got to her feet, making sure it looked like a struggle, and it was to some
extent, but her fall, the way she'd done it right, had helped her.
"Decide
how much damage you are willing to take," Master Yi had once told her,
when she'd backed out of a fight after getting a black eye. "If you cannot take it to the edge of
blackness, there is no point in fighting."
"What
if I just want to get away?" she had asked. "What if I just want to defend
myself?"
He
had met her eyes; his had been very gentle, the wisdom shaded by the violence
that the Kuk Sool Won
leashed, in hands and feet, in swords and staffs, in everything that they did. They could kill; they chose not to.
And
above all, they knew what pain felt like.
They knew how to fall. They knew
how to take the punch, translate it into energy.
She
looked up at Spock. She could do this
better. She could do more than take the
punch; she could use the punch, help him or hinder him with it.
She
would help him.
He
struck, this time a blow to her shoulder, then another to her gut.
She
felt like she might throw up, wasn't sure how to translate that into energy.
More
blows, all pulled even though they hurt like hell, all hitting just shy of
crucial areas. But they took their
toll. She began to fall wrong, saw the
knowledge that he had pushed her too far cross Spock's face, then he grabbed
her as she was falling and pulled her close, her back to his front as he
supported her.
He
turned to face Miller. "I have
chosen. The woman I care for is bruised
and bloody. Have you seen enough? Have you avenged Teresa enough?"
Miller
looked a little sick, but he shook his head.
"Finish it. I don't need to
see you hurt her anymore. But finish
it. The final choice. Then it'll be done."
Spock
turned her so she faced him, stared down at her. There was something in his eyes. Something that was a message. More than just of love.
"A
certain amount of showmanship is expected," Yi had once told the advanced
drum team. "It is not enough to be
good. You must also look good."
"I
love you," she told Spock, her voice soft so only he could hear. "I trust you. Whatever you have to do."
He
nodded, his face tight, his eyes shuttered.
He wrapped his hands around her neck, began to tighten them.
She
felt her air cutting off, heard him whisper,
"Breathe," and he loosed his grip just enough to let her pull
in a slow lungful of air and hold it deep, deep where his hand had been that
first time before he kissed her, where he still liked to put it, to see if she
was doing it right.
She
did it right. She held the air and felt
his hand tighten. As he choked her, she
slowly let the air out through her nose, and he loosened his grip again but she
kept fighting as if he hadn't, took a deep breath through her nose and felt his
hand, the one that Miller couldn't see from where he was standing, move to her
shoulder and pinch down hard, causing the nerves to her neck to scream.
He
said, "I am sorry, Christine," and everything went black.
-------------------
She
woke in sickbay. Spock was sitting by
her bed and nearly smiled as she opened her eyes.
Everything
hurt. Including places he hadn't
hit. She rubbed the back of her head,
felt a rather large bump. "What the...?"
"I
had to let you fall once you lost consciousness. If I had set you down gently, he would have
known you weren't dead."
Len
came over, hypos in hand. "Now is
not the time for this happy rehashing, Spock."
She
heard the hiss of the first hypo, felt relief radiating out from it. "Spock, is Miller...?"
"He
transported off once he thought you were dead.
He was a man of his word, despite everything."
"I'm
surprised."
"I
was as well. I was prepared to do battle
with him if he had not kept his word, if he had tried to disable the
environmental controls again, but once it was clear he was leaving, I confess,
my primary concern was you." He
stroked her cheek, clearly ignoring Len as he tried to work. "You fought well."
"You
mean I took a punch well. And fell
well."
"Master
Yi would say that is a very important part of fighting."
"Would
you two shut up?" Len pushed Spock
away from her and scanned the side he'd been standing by. "Well, it looks worse than it is, but
it's still pretty damn bad." He
glared at both of them, but mostly at her.
"I cannot believe you let him beat the shit out of you."
"You
could have been lying on the ground croaking out your last breath. You should be thanking me for doing
that. You should also be thanking Spock
for being so damn good at hitting right.
And we should all thank med school for being so stressful that I
wandered into Master Yi's one night."
"Spock
is getting no thanks from me till I make sure you're really all right. But I'll send your teacher a bottle of
bourbon."
"He'd
probably like that." She looked at
Spock. "You don't have to
stay."
"I
am aware of that." His eyes were
very soft.
"Oh,
God. Save me from Vulcans in
love." But Len winked at her once
he had his back safely to Spock.
----------------------
Spock
was treating her like she was going to break at any moment. He'd been fine right after the fight--if you
could call him pummeling the crap out of her and her not even trying to land a
blow a fight--but now he couldn't meet her eyes, seemed reluctant to even hold
her too tightly.
Truth
be told, she was feeling a little vulnerable herself. And this backing off on his part wasn't
helping.
She
went into Len's office, leaned up against the door and asked, "Am I
cleared for regular activities?"
"By
regular activities do you mean sex?"
"Yep."
"Just
don't go all kama sutra and it should be
fine." He smiled at her. "Spock's been acting different."
"Spock's
been acting like I'm a glass doll."
She palmed the door shut and sat in one of Len's guest chairs. "I'm not going to break."
"You
really don't get it, do you, kiddo?"
"Get
what?"
Len
leaned back. "I've seen Spock in a murderous
rage. One time with Jim on the sands of
Vulcan. One time with me in that cave with Zarabeth. He was damned scary, and I think he knows
he's capable of that. This...this
brought him closer to those times, even if it's not the same thing at all, even
if he was in control this time."
"He's
afraid he'll lose control?"
Len
nodded. "Control is all to a
Vulcan. They fought hard for that. I do believe he loves you, Christine. After all this time, he clearly does love
you. But I think you scare the hell out
of him right now."
"Am
I supposed to go away?"
"That's
the worst thing you could do. Go
confront him. Have mad passionate sex
and then talk about it. And I do mean in
that order. He needs to see he won't
lose control before he talks about losing control--and about how frightened you
might be of him, even if it's just a little.
I was frightened after Sarpeidon; Jim was a
little spooked--even if he didn't show it--after Vulcan. You're scared, too, and Spock needs to see
that you'll seek him out despite that.
Trust me. I do know the big green
lug pretty well."
"Thank
you."
"You're
welcome." He smiled sweetly at
her. "And for the record, if he had
killed you, I'd have beaten him to death myself."
"Not
very doctor-ly of you."
"You're
my friend. To hell with being doctor-ly. " He got
up, gave her in impromptu and very firm hug.
She realized he was checking to make sure she could take whatever Spock
might dish out, as much as letting her know how much he cared.
"Old
worry wart," she murmured as she pulled away.
"A
little caution never hurt anyone, darlin'. Now, go get laid."
-------------------------
She
checked in the lab first, but Spock wasn't there. Several other people were working, and one
volunteered that Spock had left about an hour ago.
Chapel
went to his quarters, had to ring several times before he let her in. "Am I not welcome?" she said,
willing to meet this head on, letting hurt into her voice.
"You
are." He was sitting in the dark, not
meditating, but in his chair with his elbows on the armrests, his fingers steepled. Clearly
thinking--clearly brooding was more like it.
She
walked over to him, moving slowly.
Master Yi once told her, "The secret to working with any animal is
to approach with kindness, with gentleness.
But also with a firmness of purpose.
The mixture of both is crucial."
She
crouched in front of Spock, her hands on his knees as she studied him in the
low light. He would not meet her gaze at
first, then he lifted his eyes to hers.
"I
miss you." She let her hand trail
up toward his groin.
He
didn't stop her.
"I
miss this."
He
swallowed hard as she leaned in, both hands traveling now.
"Len
says I'm cleared for takeoff." She
smiled, a sweet and goofy smile. One
that did not say she was, in fact, a little bit scared.
She'd
had nightmares--Spock's hands coming at her, a different outcome, a beating
that went on and on.
"I
love you, Spock."
He
pulled her up, into his lap, and crushed her to him. She managed to squirm free enough to turn and
kiss him. His kisses were frantic, and
he clutched her too tightly but she didn't cry out, just kissed him back the
same way.
She
knew how much she could take. She would
not lose him. Not now.
Then
he slowed down and pushed her away enough to look at her. "Lights up twenty-five
percent." He was studying her and
she kept her eyes soft, her smile sensual, and touched him, played with his
hair, his ears, ran her fingers down his robe.
"Are you sure you want to do this, Christine?"
"Am
I sure I want to have sex with the man I love?
That's what you're asking, right?"
She nipped at his earlobe.
Keeping it light. Keeping it
sexy. Keeping it just a little bit
dangerous.
He
wouldn't go too far. She trusted him, even
if maybe he didn't trust himself.
He
seemed about to launch into something that would probably fall into Len's
"talk about it after" part, so she kissed him, and reached down,
found him, how ready he was for her. He
had her uniform bottom pulled down in moments, was touching her, pushing her
harder than he ever had.
He
stopped just before she came, ignoring her moans of protest. "This doesn't frighten you?"
"Do
I look frightened?" She was scared,
and he probably could tell that to some extent, but she fought to keep her
emotions under control.
He
finished her off and she cried out loudly, squirming in his arms, his lips hard
on her own. She'd barely come down when
he was pushing her off his lap, over to the bed, covering her, plunging into her. "This is what I am, Christine. This is what the Pon
Farr will be. This is the man you
love."
"I
know." She thrust up and clamped
down on him as hard as she could, making him cry out at the twin
sensations. "And this is me. You know me.
You know what I like. All the
ways I like this."
He
stopped thrusting, stared at her as if he was seeing her for the first
time. "Christine."
"I'm
right here. And you're inside me. Finish what you're doing." She kissed him gently. "Love me."
He
kissed her back, slowly, tenderly, but not as if she might break. He started moving again, thrusting firmly,
moaning as she clamped down again, breaking the kiss to throw his head back, to
call out wildly as he came.
He
held her so tightly she didn't think she could breathe, was relieved when he
rolled off her, and pulled her with him, kissing her softly, sweet glancing
kisses. "I love you. I was afraid..."
"That
you'd hurt me?"
He
nodded.
"Like
you did when you beat me?" This had
to be said. This had to be said this
way.
He
nodded.
"You
did hurt me when you beat me. You had
to. But you didn't hurt me as badly as
you could have. You chose not to. And you won't hurt me in the Pon Farr, when it comes, because you love me. And you won't hurt me, no matter what we do
in bed, because I trust you and you know that."
He
stroked her hair, kissed her neck, ended with his lips pressed against her
ear. He whispered, "I have thought
about what happened. So many things I
could have done differently. I hate that
he got away." He pulled back, let
her see his expression. "Hate,
Christine. You understand that?"
She
nodded.
"I
dream of killing him. Beating him to
death and enjoying it."
"That's
not a bad dream." She wished she
had that one instead of hers.
"It
is for a Vulcan."
"Oh. Of course."
"When
we find him..."
"Spock. We're not going to find him. He has nothing left. I wouldn't be surprised if he kills himself. He's obsessed with her, and --" She met his eyes.
"Gamma
Upsilon," they said together.
--------------
They
found his body in the same place Spock had found the landing party. One phaser shot to
the head. Fast. Painless nearly.
Not. Damn.
Fair.
"To
hold anger inside," Master Yi had often said, "to hold hatred inside,
is to make oneself a slave, to cut away all the good things in your life and
indenture yourself to the bad."
"What
if someone has done you wrong?" a student had asked. "Is it wrong to hate them?"
"I
think it is asking a bit much to love your enemy in some cases, although that
is the highest path," Yi had said, a twinkle in his eye. "But perhaps you could try to ignore
your enemy? Influence denied is power
broken. If it makes you feel better, it
is likely you will hurt him worse by not
hating him. To
make him nothing in your life rather than everything."
"Let's
go home, Spock." She touched his
hand, and he let her, even though there were security guards around them. But she didn't try to hold his hand; she
understood his limits.
But
he surprised her. He put his hand on her
back, low, pushing gently. In full view
of all the guards. "Yes, Christine.
Let's go home."
FIN