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) 2013 by Djinn. This story is Rated PG-13.

The Price of Valor

 

by Djinn

 

 

 

Kirk doesnÕt want to walk into the isolation cell, but he forces himself to.  Chris is sitting in the corner of the room, head cocked at an almost painful angle, one arm bent as if itÕs broken. 

 

She sees him and says, ÒHave you brought cookies?Ó  Her voice is the strange singsong itÕs been since he got her back from the bastard who believed exploration equaled trespass.

 

And trespass on his planet required suffering.

 

ÒNo, no cookies.Ó  Kirk has no idea who Chris thinks he is today, but he sits across from her on the padded floor and takes a deep breath.  ÒHow are you feeling?Ó

 

ÒI made sunshine out of antimatter.Ó  She leans in, a broken smile on her face.  ÒDonÕt tell.  TheyÕll be very irritated with me.  They donÕt like us using antimatter in experiments.Ó

 

He tries to smile.  ÒItÕll be our secret.Ó

 

ÒYou promised cookies last time.Ó  Her look is almost her old one.  Accusing and teasing.  HeÕs struck by how she can switch to nearly normal for these brief seconds.

 

And then revert right back to madness.

 

He gives her a tired smile.  ÒThe mess hall was out of cookies.  IÕll bring some later.  The cook is making gingersnaps just for you.Ó

 

ÒThe thin kind?  I love those.  With a big glass of milk?Ó

 

ÒJust like that.  The way you like it.Ó  They used to eat those in bed, crumbs be damned.  Washing the spiciness away with the milk.  People who think he lives on the edge since he stole his ship back from Decker would have been shocked to see the easy domesticity they enjoyed.

 

He sleeps alone now.  Has for a month.  While the woman he loves paces a padded cell.  Or worse, sits like this, tangled like a spider, spouting nonsense.

 

Or worst of all: occasionally making sense.  Giving him hope.

 

ÒIf IÕm very good,Ó she says, Òwill you promise to let me walk in space?Ó

 

He closes his eyes.  He hates this question.  She asks it often.  ÒNo, Chris.Ó

 

ÒIt would be fast.  No suit.  No mask.  Just push off and float.Ó  She gives him a smile so beautiful it hurts.  ÒI wouldnÕt be here anymore.  IÕd just go to sleep.Ó

 

She wants to die.  SheÕs crazy from what the alien did to her, but she knows enough that sheÕs wanted to die since Kirk got her back.

 

And the hell of it is that she sacrificed herself for his ship, for his crew, for him.  ÒSomeone had to pay,Ó the alien said, so she stepped forward, and the alien beamed the rest of them back.

 

Kirk loves her for it.

 

He hates her for it, too.

 

He hates himself more, though.  That he didnÕt realize the alien would send the rest of them away as soon as she volunteered.  That he was stupid enough, even once it was done, to think he could get her back before the alien could hurt her.  Spock and Scotty thought so, too.  TheyÕd beamed in so easily, beaming her out wouldnÕt be that much of a trick.

 

They were wrong.  She paid the price.  He had to watch.

 

If he could go back and kill the alien, he would.  But Starfleet has warned him off.  Told him to lay down some warning buoys and move on.

 

He can imagine their thought process.  So heÕs down a doctor?  Not that big a deal.  Not when it might have been him or Spock or Mister Scott.  The only other three on the landing party.  And why she stepped forward.  ÒYouÕre too important to lose, Jim.  All of you—more crucial than I am.Ó

 

He wanted to argue with her—did argue with her.  But she was right and they all knew it—not that it would have stopped him from stepping forward if she hadnÕt beaten him to the punch and that goddamn alien hadnÕt beamed them—

 

So much easier to blame the alien.

 

Starfleet Command thought it was the logical choice, too.  They gave her a commendation for valor; KirkÕs still waiting to give her the medal.

 

They donÕt know she was his lover.  They donÕt know heÕs at loose ends without her.  They donÕt know he is fully aware she should be in a Starfleet facility, and yet he canÕt bear to send her away.

 

ÒI love you, Jim.Ó  She is, for a moment, his Chris—and she knows him, which breaks his heart.  SheÕs staring at him with a look of worry, as if she can read the track his thoughts have taken.

 

ÒI love you, too, Chris.Ó  He reaches out for her, but she is already gone, head thrown back, rocking against the wall, reciting a periodic table sheÕs made up that appears to be comprised solely of cocktails.

 

He gets to his feet slowly.  ÒI miss you, Chris.Ó

 

She doesnÕt even look at him as he backs to the door and rings for the nurse to let him out.

 

##

 

Spock sits across from Christine, trying to make sense of the tangled logic that comes out of her.  He wants to give her back to Jim.  Wants that more than anything.

 

He was the one that suggested they explore what he had designated Sardris VIII, but what the alien called simply home.  He feels...guilty.

 

And this woman became his friend, once she was no longer interested in him, once she was his best friendÕs love.

 

ÒDoes it hurt?Ó  Christine leans forward, studying his ears.  ÒHow did they make them pointed?Ó

 

He sighs.  ÒI was born this way.  You know that, Christine.Ó

 

ÒHmm.Ó  She does not sound convinced.  ÒI invented a song.  But if I sing it, the sun will explode.Ó

 

ÒWhich sun?  There are many stars central to stellar systems.  Or are you referring to the terran Sol?Ó

 

She stares at him.  ÒYour ears must hurt.  You sound very cranky.Ó  She begins to walk her fingers up the padded wall, singing about a miniscule arachnid and a waterspout.

 

ÒI take it that is not the song in question?Ó

 

ÒOf course not.  IÕm careful.  I wouldnÕt want to hurt anyone.Ó

 

He frowns, watches her in silence for a long moment, then quietly says, ÒYou were hurt.Ó

 

She stumbles over the song.

 

ÒYou were hurt very badly.Ó

 

ÒDonÕt remember.Ó

 

ÒI think you do.Ó  He leans forward.  ÒThe sun...did your sun explode?Ó

 

ÒNo sun.  No sun exploding.Ó

 

ÒYou said it for a reason, Christine.Ó

 

She stares at him, then leans in, and says, ÒItÕs a powerful song.Ó  They stay like that for a moment, then she yells, ÒBoo!Ó and slams herself back into the wall, rocking furiously.

 

He forces himself to sit, not moving, not reacting to her mania. 

 

Finally, she calms.  ÒThere were supposed to be cookies.Ó

 

ÒWhat kind?Ó

 

ÒGingersnaps.Ó

 

Jim was asking the cook to make some earlier.  He had wondered why.  ÒIÕm sure there will be some later.Ó

 

ÒBefore the sun explodes?Ó

 

ÒI thought you said you were not going to sing?Ó

 

ÒIt might explode for some other reason.Ó  She curls up like a cat at his feet.  ÒWhy canÕt I go for a walk?Ó

 

ÒBecause you want to go for that walk in space.Ó

 

ÒIÕm tired, Spock.Ó

 

It is the most cogent thing sheÕs said all day.  He takes a chance, lays his hand on her head as lightly as he can, trying to read her.  All he feels is the same chaos he dealt with when she first came back, when they thought a meld might be enough to reach her, to bring her back.

 

ÒWhere would you go on your walk?Ó

 

ÒTo the sun.Ó

 

ÒThe one that is about to explode?Ó

 

She nods.

 

He is sure this means something.  He just cannot figure out what it is.  He lifts his hand from her head.  ÒYou rest.Ó

 

As he pushes himself to his feet, he hears her ask, ÒI make him sad, donÕt I?Ó

 

He does not ask her who she means, says only, ÒHe is glad you are alive.Ó

 

ÒBig liar.Ó  Her tone is almost the one of old, of the woman who teased him from beside JimÕs side.

 

##

 

Uhura sits down on the padded floor and studies her friend.  The captain is too close, wants too much.  Spock feels too guilty, will push too hard.

 

TheyÕve told her thereÕs nothing she can do.

 

But theyÕre boys.  What the hell do they know?

 

ÒChristine?Ó  She stretches out on the floor, the same way she would if they were having a girlsÕ night in one of their quarters.  She lies quietly, humming for a moment, then softly sings, ÒA kiss on the hand may be quite continental...Ó

 

Christine is writing words with her finger on the wall and doesnÕt stop, but she does softly sing back, Òbut diamonds are a girls best friend.Ó

 

Uhura smiles.  She rolls to her stomach, rests her chin on her hands.  ÒI miss Jan, donÕt you?Ó

 

Christine ignores her.

 

She digs a piece of ChristineÕs favorite candy out of her pocket—or it used to be, until she ate too many and got sick.  That was during Med School, while the Enterprise was in refits.

 

ÒChapel, bet you canÕt eat just one.Ó  She holds up the white chocolate square.

 

ChristineÕs reaction is instantaneous, her expression one of disgust. 

 

So some things get a rise out of her.  Some things she can even join in with.  Other things might as well be silence.  This will take a while to figure out what moves her, what doesnÕt, but Christine helped Uhura after Nomad wiped her memory; this is the least Uhura can do to repay her. 

 

She rolls to her side, studies Christine as she continues to write on the wall.  Remembers what it was like watching her friend suffer, watching the captain rush up to the bridge—the alien beamed him and Spock and Scotty back once the choice was made.  ÒThe alien made us watch, Christine.  It was on every screen.  We all knew what you were doing for the others.Ó 

 

ChristineÕs hand falters for a moment, and Uhura takes note of that.

 

ÒYou were brave.  He hurt you so badly.Ó  She looks down.  ÒI thought the captain was going to go through the viewscreen to get you.  He left the bridge without assigning the conn when you beamed back.  He never does that.Ó

 

ÒSun exploding.Ó

 

ÒWhat?Ó

 

ÒThe sun exploded.  I sang.Ó

 

ÒYou screamed, Christine.  Anyone would have.Ó  She moves closer.  ÒNo one—not even Spock—could have withstood that in silence.  Believe me.  He told me that.Ó

 

ÒIf I sing again, the sun will explode.Ó

 

ÒWhat does that mean, honey?Ó

 

ÒI wrote a poem.  See?Ó  She runs her hands over the wall where sheÕs been scrawling her invisible letters.  ÒItÕs a love poem.  To death.Ó

 

ÒWhy would you write a love poem to death?Ó

 

ÒDeath was supposed to come for me, but he didnÕt.  Maybe he needs to be wooed?Ó

 

ÒNo, baby.  He doesnÕt need to be wooed.  YouÕre not dying.Ó

 

Christine looks at her, and her eyes are completely lucid.  ÒSometimes dead things donÕt fall down right away.Ó

 

Uhura finally understands the bleakness of KirkÕs expression, the utter despair sheÕs caught on his face the last few days.  ÒYouÕre not dead.Ó  She watches Christine for a long time, finally says, ÒI should go.  But IÕll be back.Ó

 

ÒDo you think heÕll like my poem?Ó

 

ÒDeath isnÕt coming for you, Christine.  The captain wonÕt let him.Ó

 

ChristineÕs face changes to an expression that matches the captainÕs in bleakness.  Then she turns back to the wall.  ÒIÕll try again.  Something prettier this time.Ó

 

##

 

Kirk sits across the room from Chris; he is exhausted from too many shifts during a diplomatic crisis that required round-the-clock monitoring and a lot of posturing at red alert.  The floor is soft, surrounds him, the walls do too, and he closes his eyes.

 

A moment later he is jarred awake by the feeling of ChrisÕs head in his lap.  She has curled up beside him, lies staring up at him.  Her eyes, for once, donÕt seem so crazy or maybe heÕs just too tired to see her for what she really is.  He reaches out slowly, lets his hand settle on her hair.

 

She smiles.  ÒYou finally came.Ó

 

ÒIÕve been here all along.Ó

 

ÒNo, not you.  Him.  Just over your shoulder.  Death.Ó

 

Kirk shakes his head.  ÒI chased him away.  Again.Ó

 

ÒYou should stop doing that.Ó  She reaches up, puts her hand over where his lies on her hair.  ÒHe could give us peace.Ó

 

ÒNo, Chris.  Death isnÕt peace.  Death is just death.Ó  He lets his eyes shut.  He knows itÕs not recommended to fall asleep in here with her, but heÕs too tired to care.

 

When he wakes, hours later, heÕs curled around her on the floor like theyÕre a pair of wild animals.  He lies there for a long time, before he kisses her neck and leaves her with a murmured, ÒI love you.  I miss you so much.Ó

 

##

 

Spock sits with Christine, mirroring her movements.  He is irritating her, but it is something he hasnÕt tried yet, and it is getting more of a reaction than anything else he has done.

 

She glances over at him as he writes on the wall the way she is doing, stops abruptly and sits very still, staring at him.

 

ÒChristine, what do you remember from Sardris VIII?Ó

 

Her expression changes.  He realizes he has taken her by surprise. 

 

ÒWere the restraints metal or some kind of polymer?Ó

 

For a moment, he can see the face of the woman he knows.  And she looks crushed that he would ask her this.  ÒSteel, I think,Ó she nearly spits at him, and then she slams her hand into the wall.  Does it again and again. 

 

The fabric is too thick to allow her to injure herself, but the burst of energy seems to have calmed her.  She goes back to writing on the wall with her finger.

 

ÒWhere did the alien strike you first?Ó

 

She ignores him.  Even starts to sing something, a song about diamonds—an odd choice of subject.

 

ÒChristine, why will the sun explode?Ó

 

ÒSun didnÕt.  No sun.Ó

 

He frowns.  ÒBut if you sing, it will, will it not?Ó

 

ÒI was wrong.Ó  She gets up, begins to pace.  Then laughs.  ÒI miss Jan, donÕt you?Ó

 

ÒI did not know Chief Rand well enough to miss her, Christine.Ó

 

She looks lost, as if she is searching through her memories for something.  Finally, she whispers, ÒBet you canÕt eat just one.Ó

 

He has no idea what she is talking about.  Her logic is, as ever, convoluted.  He sighs and gets up.  ÒI will see you soon, Christine.Ó

 

She is still standing there, looking lost, when he glances through the small window once he is outside the cell.

 

##

 

Uhura comes in, finds Christine sitting quietly in the center of the room.

 

ÒShhh,Ó she says.  ÒDonÕt scare him off.Ó

 

ÒWho?Ó

 

ÒShhh.  HeÕs—Ó  Suddenly sheÕs up and running the short distance across the cell, stopping as she crashes into the wall, the fabric bouncing her back.  She lands on her rear, scuttles back and glares at Uhura.  ÒDamn you.  I waited hours for him.Ó

 

ÒWho, Christine?Ó


ÒCouldnÕt you see him?Ó  Christine lies down and buries her head in her arms.  ÒIÕm tired of being the only one who sees things.Ó

 

ÒIÕm sorry.Ó  She reaches out and strokes ChristineÕs hair.  ÒCan you tell me who he was?Ó

 

ÒHe had a piece of me.Ó

 

ÒHe wasnÕt death?Ó

 

ÒNo.Ó  Christine rolls over, stares up at the ceiling.  ÒPieces of me fell off.  Every time I...screamed.Ó

 

ÒDoes...Jim know that?Ó  ItÕs hard to call the captain by his first name.  HeÕs never told her to, but sheÕs afraid sheÕll knock Christine out of the conversation if she calls him anything else.

 

ÒHe knows IÕm missing.  He doesnÕt know where to look to find me.Ó

 

ÒDo you know where to look?Ó 

 

Christine shrugs.  ÒNot if theyÕre going to run away before I can get my pieces back from them.Ó

 

ÒDo you think Spock could help?Ó

 

ÒHe looks inside me.  The pieces fell off.Ó  She curls up, putting her head on UhuraÕs lap.  ÒHelp me find me, Ny?Ó

 

ItÕs the first time Christine has called her by name since sheÕs been in this cell.  ÒI will, honey.  WeÕll find you.Ó

 

ÒSo many pieces.Ó  She closes her eyes, her breathing slowing.  ÒSing to me?Ó

 

Uhura sings lullabies and slow, soft songs.  She keeps singing long after Christine has fallen asleep.

 

##

 

KirkÕs had a shitty day and he comes into the cell, sees Chris sitting on the floor, looking as if sheÕs going through an imaginary jigsaw puzzle, and he slides down the wall and puts his head in his hands.

 

ÒWhere is it?Ó she asks.  ÒI need it.  Give it back.  That piece is important.Ó

 

ÒJesus.Ó  He pulls his knees up, tries to make himself as small as possible.

 

He nearly jumps out of his skin when he feels her touch his cheek.  Opening his eyes, he sees her studying him, her expression far from lucid but somehow kind—somehow forgiving.  When it shouldnÕt be.  Because this is his fault.  This is all his fault.

 

He strokes her hair.  ÒSweetheart, IÕm so sorry.Ó

 

She leans into his hand.

 

ÒI shouldnÕt have left you there.  I should have stayed.  I was going to but you got the jump on me—because you always know what IÕm going to do.  IÕm supposed to protect you, not leave you with a...monster.Ó  He blinks back tears—tears heÕs held inside for all this time.  Tears that he canÕt hold back now.  He gives up and lets them flow.

 

She wipes them off his cheeks.  ÒYouÕre missing pieces, too.Ó

 

ÒSure.  Okay,Ó he says, and his voice comes out broken.

 

ÒNo, weÕll find them.Ó  She leans in, kisses him gently on the mouth, and he knows itÕs not advisable to let her do that, or to open his mouth to her when she deepens the kiss, but heÕs so lonely, and he misses her so much, that he does it anyway.

 

The way sheÕs kissing him, he can almost forget that things arenÕt the way they used to be.  But he mustnÕt forget that.  He can never let himself forget that.

 

She pulls away and smiles.  ÒIÕll look for your pieces, too.  TheyÕre different than mine.Ó

 

ÒOkay, Chris.Ó  He takes a deep breath; itÕs ragged, more a sob than an inhale.

 

She smiles sadly—the look he grew to know when she was a nurse.  The lovely smile that meant compassion and care and no judgment.  Then she moves to sit next to him and takes his hand.  ÒIt may take me a while to find them.  IÕm not at my best.Ó

 

He nods, wipes the tears from his face.

 

She puts her head on his shoulder, and he wraps his arm around her.  They sit like that for a long time.

 

##

 

Spock sits in the middle of the cell, watching as Christine carefully paces out a perfect square, making tight right faces as she corners. 

 

ÒAre you serving a purpose?Ó she asks, not looking at him, staring down at the ground as she places her feet carefully.

 

ÒAre you angry at me?Ó

 

ÒNo.Ó  She suddenly does an about face.  It is perfectly executed and she smiles.  She begins to walk the square from the other direction.  ÒSome of my pieces hide this way.Ó

 

ÒIs that so?Ó

 

She stops, stands very still, then turns her head to look at him.  She studies him as if he is an experiment—one that has begun to smell bad.

 

ÒAre you sure you are not angry at me?Ó he asks.

 

She suddenly smiles and reaches down and to the side, snatching up something.  ÒIÕve been looking all over for this one.Ó

 

ÒI was the one who backed your argument against Jim that it was the logical thing to leave you on the planet.  Mister Scott did not.Ó

 

She ignores him.

 

He looks down.  ÒI should have stayed.  My mental disciplines are stronger.Ó

 

ÒI canÕt find all the pieces.Ó  She is standing with her hands on her hips, looking like his mother when she was annoyed with him as a child.  ÒI have enough to do.Ó

 

ÒAll right.Ó  He is not sure what else to say.  She looks so aggrieved that he says, ÒAll right, Christine.  You do not have to find all the pieces.Ó

 

She rolls her eyes.  ÒThank you.Ó  Then she resumes her pacing.  Her left face is not as well executed as her right face, and he can see by her expression that she knows it.

 

ÒNo pieces without perfection.Ó  She motions for him to stand up.  ÒLeft face, mister.Ó

 

He does one, is a little rusty—it has been a long time since he drilled.

 

She gives him a look of disgust.  ÒYouÕll never find yours that way.Ó  She practices her left faces for a few minutes then, once apparently satisfied, goes back to her pacing.

 

ÒI am sorry, Christine.  I need to say that.  I know you donÕt understand what IÕm sorry for.Ó

 

She keeps pacing.

 

He takes a deep breath.  Did he really expect absolution?  When he looks at Jim, he thinks his friend blames him in some small measure.  But he suspects Jim blames himself most of all.

 

ÒChristine, if I could do it again differently, I would.Ó

 

ÒSlingshot around the sun, Spock.  Just donÕt let it explode.Ó

 

He frowns.  That actually made sense—of a sort.  Even if Starfleet would never sign off on a mission to the past just to save one woman.  ÒI would like to.  I would do the computations most carefully.Ó

 

She gives him a sweet smile, and he feels a pang of regret that he has had a hand in what she has come to. 

 

ÒYour turns are very precise.  Most impressive.Ó

 

She lifts her head up and smiles as she continues on her way.

 

##

 

Uhura sits as Christine goes through a deck of imaginary playing cards, discarding some, keeping others.  ÒGood hand?Ó she asks.

 

ÒI work with what IÕm dealt,Ó Christine says and Uhura smiles—Christine is getting more lucid, even if the boys donÕt seem to be noticing. 

 

But thatÕs okay.  The boys have their own issues to deal with, and in UhuraÕs opinion they arenÕt doing a bang-up job of that.  So sheÕll just quietly continue on with her project and let them do whatever it is they do with Christine in peace.

 

Christine hands a couple pretend cards to Uhura, who smiles and says, ÒThanks.Ó  She places them carefully on the padded floor, then asks, ÒDid you find more pieces?Ó

 

Christine looks down.  ÒA few.  ItÕs...itÕs getting harder.Ó

 

ÒWhy is that?Ó

 

Christine doesnÕt answer for a long time, just pretend-shuffles and deals, but Uhura waits.  Finally, she says, ÒIt hurts.Ó

 

ÒHow does it hurt?Ó

 

Again there is a long silence.  Christine reaches over, scoops up the cards she gave Uhura, smiling apologetically and saying, ÒI need them back.  Need a full deck.Ó

 

Uhura wonders if one of the staff has made a comment about not playing with one.  If she finds out thatÕs the case, someone is going to be talking to the angry end of Mama Ny.

 

She lets Christine play whatever game she thinks sheÕs got going for a few more hands, then asks again, ÒHow does it hurt, honey?Ó

 

ÒThey left me.Ó  ChristineÕs hands start to tremble and suddenly she throws the pretend cards down, stands up and begins to pace.  ÒI want cookies.  Jim said thereÕd be cookies, but there never are.  When will there be cookies?Ó

 

Uhura can hardly breathe.  She waits for Christine to calm down, and itÕs a long wait, but finally Christine comes back and sits.

 

ÒThey left you?Ó

 

Christine sits very still, as if moving is suddenly dangerous.  She lifts her eyes to meet UhuraÕs.  ÒI was all alone.Ó  Her eyes are too lucid, too knowing, and Uhura is afraid that she might lose her, that this will be too much, so she sits perfectly still and says nothing at all.

 

Christine swallows, takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.  ÒIt hurt.Ó  She drags the word ÒhurtÓ out so itÕs half whisper, half moan, and Uhura closes her eyes, remembering what she saw on that screen, knowing that hurt does not begin to cover the agony Christine must have felt.

 

ÒDoes it hurt too much to come back?Ó  ItÕs the question everyone wants the answer to, and once itÕs out, Uhura isnÕt sure she should have asked it.

 

Christine sinks to the floor, almost boneless.  ÒI wish there were cookies.Ó

 

ÒThere will be.  Jim will bring you some.Ó

 

Christine looks sad.  ÒPieces gone, too.Ó

 

ÒI know, honey.  All your men are broken.Ó

 

##

 

Kirk is in his quarters, about to go see Chris, when his chime sounds.  ÒCome,Ó he says.

 

It is Uhura.  She comes in almost gingerly, and he realizes this is terra incognita for her. 

 

ÒNyota?Ó

 

ÒSir, take her cookies.Ó

 

ÒExcuse me?Ó

 

ÒChristine.  SheÕs ready for cookies.Ó  She meets his eyes, and he sees pity in hers—hates that he sees that in hers.  No anger though, no blame.  At least thereÕs no blame.  ÒIÕve been seeing some progress.Ó

 

ÒHave you?  Because I havenÕt.Ó

 

ÒAre you in any shape to look, sir?Ó

 

Why the hell doesnÕt she call him Jim in private?  Has he really never told her to?  ÒDrop the sir, Nyota.  ItÕs Jim.Ó

 

ÒOkay.  Jim.Ó  She smiles, but itÕs a sad smile, and he knows she shouldnÕt have had to wait till something like this to be allowed to call him by his first name.  ÒAnd donÕt try to deflect.  YouÕre not at your best, Jim.Ó

 

He sighs.  ÒIÕm not at my best because I let the woman I love be tortured.  What the hell do you expect?Ó

 

ÒI expect you to forgive yourself.  She canÕt hold your pain, too.Ó

 

He frowns.

 

ÒShe knows youÕre in pain.  And sheÕs in enough of it herself.  You and Spock, youÕre both beating yourselves up for what happened.  Stop it.  Now.  She doesnÕt need that.  She needs you to be strong.  ThatÕs what you are to her—donÕt you know that?  She told me once.  She said being with you was like coming out into the sun after being inside for years.Ó

 

He exhales, a short puff that is almost a laugh.  ÒThe sun would explode.  Spock said she was saying the sun would explode if she sang.Ó

 

ÒI know.  She said it to me, too.  I didnÕt make the connection at first, either.  SheÕs a doctor, under all that damage.  Maybe she sees more than we think.Ó

 

He walks over to the viewscreen.  ÒShe nearly died.  SheÕs insane.Ó

 

ÒSheÕs not as crazy as she was.  I can tell you that.  SheÕs getting better.Ó  She moves to his side and touches his arm.  ÒDo me a favor.  Put your pain and your guilt aside for tonight.  Take her cookies and milk.  And talk to her about the very best times youÕve had.  Nothing painful.  Nothing hard.  Just the parts where you were happy and she was loved.Ó

 

ÒOkay.  I can do that.Ó  He turns, takes her hands in his.  ÒYouÕre a good friend.Ó

 

ÒIÕm her best friend.Ó  She squeezes his hands tightly.  ÒAnd IÕm your friend, too.  WeÕre going to get her back.  I know it.  I have faith.  You need to, too.Ó

 

ÒI used to have faith in myself.  In not losing.  But on that planet: I lost.Ó

 

ÒYou lost a battle.  You didnÕt lose the war yet.  But you will if you persist in wallowing.Ó  She gives him a hard look and walks out.

 

He looks back out at the stars, then takes a deep breath, puts some steel in his spine, and heads to the mess.

 

TheyÕre out of gingersnaps.  He gives the cook a hard look and says, ÒIÕll wait.Ó

 

The cook wisely does nothing other than get the cookies started.  A while later, KirkÕs headed to the cell with a container of gingersnaps and two milk rations—the kind in safe containers the orderlies wonÕt object to him taking in her cell.

 

She looks up when he comes in, smiles when he sits and opens the container of cookies.  She crawls to him like a cat, which would be disturbing if he hadnÕt seen her do it in his quarters several times.  Chris will get to these cookies the quickest way—getting to her feet wastes time.

 

ÒYou brought them.Ó

 

ÒAnd milk.Ó  He hands her the milk, gives her a grin that he can feel is a real one, then gives her a cookie.

 

Her smile is luminous and she closes her eyes and sniffs the cookie.  ÒMmmmmmm

 

ÒFresh baked.  Was afraid IÕd have to threaten the cook with court martial to get them, but get them I did.Ó

 

She smiles again, the happy, beautiful smile.  ÒStill warm.Ó  She bites into the cookie carefully, holding her hand under it the way she always does to catch crumbs.  Crumbs usually managed to elude her when they were in bed, no matter how careful she was.

 

ÒI remember when we first had these in Copenhagen.Ó  He stretches his legs out.  ÒWe were at Tivoli Gardens, watching the fountains.  You bought these crazy cookies when I wanted chocolate chip.  Then I made you go get more.  I couldnÕt believe how good they were.Ó

 

She takes another cookie, is watching his face as he talks, a soft smile growing.

 

ÒWe walked forever that night.  Had coffee on the way back to the hotel.  That was the first night we spent together in a hotel room.  First night on liberty.  We were stopped by that woman who had lost her way and thought we could help her.  And of course we did.  Do gooders to the end.Ó  Is this happy talk?  Or is this just leading back to the planet?

 

ÒAmelia.Ó

 

He looks at her.  Yes.  The womanÕs name was Amelia.  He decides to act nonchalant.  ÒRight, that was her name.  Not the brightest of bulbs, but nice.  We finally got back to the hotel—we were so tired.  Too tired to make love.Ó

 

ÒAlways morning.Ó

 

He smiles.  ÒThat was your favorite saying.  And we put that morning to good use.  The maids wondered if they were ever going to get into the room.  Housekeeping finally called and asked us if we were going to need our room cleaned.Ó

 

ÒNo thanks.Ó 

 

Which is what he said to housekeeping.  They made their own bed when they finally went out for dinner.

 

She takes a cookie, hands it to him, then takes another for herself.  ÒBest cookies.Ó

 

ÒYes, yes they are.Ó  He takes a bite.  ÒDo you remember any place?Ó  He knows this isnÕt what Uhura told him to do, but it feels right.

 

Chris looks down, then back at him, and he thinks heÕs lost her because she starts to sway.  But as he watches her, he realizes sheÕs swaying the way the Sapallan fire dancers did, during a diplomatic function on Sapalla Prime.

 

ÒThey were amazing dancers.Ó  He tries to remember the music.  They had one song that played over and over, no matter who was dancing.  For four solid hours.  It got old very fast, and for the rest of the week, she kept humming it to him to drive him nuts.  Ah, he thinks he remembers it, starts to hum it and—

 

She laughs.

 

Something in him nearly breaks.  In happiness.  In relief.

 

SheÕs in there.

 

##

 

Spock sits down near Christine, who is quiet, appears to be almost meditating.  ÒI wish to beg forgiveness.Ó

 

She does not ask him what for.

 

ÒLieutenant Uhura has made me aware that perhaps my reasons for coming to see you were as much for me as for you.  That my methods were more self serving than beneficial.Ó

 

She turns to look at him.  Her eyes are calm.  ÒIÕve found most of the pieces.Ó

 

ÒI see.Ó

 

ÒNo, you donÕt.Ó  She smiles and she reaches over and touches his hand, and he is struck by the lack of chaos in her thoughts.  ÒI found some of yours, too.  It was logical, Spock.Ó

 

She lets go of him, and he exhales slowly.

 

She has forgiven him. 

 

But he has still not forgiven himself.  ÒIt was unforgivable.Ó

 

ÒLogic often is.Ó  She points to the floor in front of her.  ÒTheyÕre not right yet, though.  IÕm having trouble with the joins.Ó

 

ÒCan I help?Ó

 

She looks at him for a long moment, then gets up, walking around the room, touching the walls gently, trailing her hand along as she walks, talking softly—too softly for even him to hear.  She works her way back to him, then sits down and says, ÒYes, I think you can.Ó

 

He frowns slightly.  ÒI do not under—Ó

 

She is lifting his hand to her face, placing his fingers on the meld points.  ÒI found all the pieces.  Put them back for me?Ó

 

He slips into her mind easily, almost pulled in by the force of her will, of her need, of the intense energy she has put into getting well while he and Jim have been too busy feeling guilty to notice.  But he feels UhuraÕs touch all over her, realizes that Christine did not recover alone.

 

Although she would never have begun to get well if she did not have such a wellspring of determination—the same determination that led her to stay on that planet and suffer for them.

 

He finds the pieces; she did, indeed, locate them all.  They are organized well; she is a scientist to the end and he has no problem working with what he finds, gently putting the woman he knows back together.

 

And when he finishes, he holds her while she weeps because he knows she does not want to cry with Jim, not this way, not from this horrible pain she needs to get out.

 

She was in agony.

 

She was terrified.

 

She felt abandoned.

 

She wanted to die.

 

Failing that, madness was simpler.

 

But she loves Jim.  And in her way she loves Spock, too.  And he sees Uhura is more than just a friend—she is family. 

 

He sighs and lets her go.  ÒThere is someone who needs to see you.Ó

 

ÒThere is someone I need to see.Ó  She kisses his cheek.  ÒThank you.Ó

 

ÒYou are most welcome.Ó 

 

ÒWill you tell Ny that IÕm out?  IÕll see her as soon as I can.Ó

 

ÒShe will understand.  Perhaps I will tell her over dinner.Ó

 

ÒThat would be an excellent idea.  And tell Len before you go to dinner.  He checks on me every day.  HeÕll want to know IÕm okay.Ó

 

He helps her up, tells the orderlies to let her out, that McCoy can run diagnostics later.


For now, he will take her to Jim.

 

##

 

Kirk is in his quarters trying to finish up reports so he can get back to Chris when his chime rings.  ÒWho the hell is it?Ó  He doesnÕt look up as whoever it is walks in.  ÒThis better be good.Ó

 

ÒI think youÕll think it is.Ó

 

He stops working, turns and closes his eyes.

 

ÒItÕs me.  ItÕs okay.  YouÕre not dreaming or hallucinating.  IÕm back.Ó

 

He gets up slowly, still afraid that if he moves too fast, he will wake up and find out he has fallen asleep at his desk, is dreaming her into his quarters.  ÒChris?Ó

 

She nods. 

 

ÒHow?Ó

 

ÒTook me a while to get all my pieces back in order—Spock helped with a meld.  IÕm sorry it took me so long.Ó

 

ÒYouÕre...sorry?  Oh, sweetheart, no.Ó  He forgets about being slow, crosses the room quickly, pulling her into his arms.  ÒGod, no, IÕm sorry.  IÕm so sorry.Ó

 

ÒShhh.  ItÕs all right.  ItÕs done.  And IÕm all right.  I love you.Ó  She hugs him, and he kisses her neck and her ear and anywhere he can reach.

 

He realizes he is holding her too tightly when she moans, and he pulls away, saying, ÒIÕm sorry.  Chris, IÕm sorry.  I didnÕt mean to hurt you.Ó  He moves back, moves off her.  God, will he ever stop hurting her?

 

ÒReally?  I work my way back to you and youÕre going to act like this?Ó  SheÕs got the look he loves, the Òtake no shitÓ look that was no doubt what made Decker pick her as his CMO.  ÒYou squeezed too tight.  ItÕs not like you havenÕt done that before or you wonÕt do it again.Ó  She takes his face in her hands.  ÒJim, IÕm only going to say this once.  Get the hell over it.Ó

 

He pulls her back into his arms.  ÒGetting over it, sir.Ó

 

She smiles.

 

ÒAre you hungry?Ó

 

She shakes her head.  ÒI want you.  I want to be in our bed.Ó

 

Fuck the reports.  He takes her hand, draws her to the bed.  HeÕll get the hell over it, as she says, but that doesnÕt mean he wonÕt be very careful with her, as he undresses her, as he makes love to her, as he kisses her afterwards, and cuddles her.  As he reaches down and makes her come again, and then again. 

 

Until she finally drops the act sheÕs put on for his benefit and lets him see her pain.  He loves her for trying to hide it, but he loves her more for letting him hold her while she cries in his arms.

 

ÒMake love to me,Ó she says as she sobs, reaching down, guiding him inside her. 

 

He understands what she wants.  That she needs the connection while she lets go.  He moves inside her gently, saying, ÒI love you.  IÕm sorry.  WeÕre okay now.  ItÕll be okay.  IÕm so sorry.Ó

 

When he comes inside her, he buries his head in her hair and silently thanks whatever deity is listening for giving her back to him.

 

They lie wrapped in each otherÕs arms, closer than he thinks theyÕve ever been, as if theyÕre afraid itÕs all going to get yanked away again.  He wonders if theyÕll ever get over feeling that way.

 

ÒI love you, Jim.Ó  She kisses him softly.  ÒI came back for you.Ó

 

ÒThank you.  I was dying without you.Ó

 

ÒI know.Ó

 

He has the fleeting thought that she was not dying without him, that maybe it was easier for her in that cell than it will be out here.  ÒI love you, Chris.  WeÕll be okay.Ó

 

And he knows they will.  SheÕs strong.  Stronger than he is, possibly.  She came back.  She came back from that.

 

And they love each other.

 

And if thereÕs a next time: he wonÕt leave her behind—heÕll find another way.

 

ÒWe owe Ny a lot,Ó she whispers.

 

ÒI know.  Spock and I were useless.Ó

 

ÒNot at the end you werenÕt.  You brought cookies and happy memories.  He brought the meld.Ó

 

ÒIf IÕd brought cookies earlier...?Ó

 

ÒI wasnÕt ready.  Neither were you.Ó  She relaxes in his arms.  ÒYou never stopped coming.  No matter how crazy I was.  I love you for that.Ó 

 

ÒI didnÕt come for you when it mattered.Ó  He takes a deep breath.  He will take NyotaÕs advice: he will not wallow.  ÒI wonÕt make the mistake again.Ó

 

ÒWeÕll cross that bridge when we come to it.Ó

 

ÒNo.  We wonÕt.  I wonÕt make that mistake again.Ó

 

She nuzzles his neck.  ÒLetÕs just agree that we hope that bridge is way down the goddamn road.Ó

 

ÒYes, that I will gladly agree with you on.  I never want to see that bridge again.Ó  He pulls her closer.  ÒThank you for coming back.  I know you didnÕt have to.Ó

 

ÒI did have to.  I love you.  And you needed me.Ó  She yawns.

 

Soon he is yawning, too.  He tells the room computer to turn the lights off, and he lets himself go for the first real sleep heÕs had since he got Chris back from the alien.  When he wakes, sheÕs sleeping peacefully next to him, and he smiles before he rouses her with a kiss.

 

The reports can still goddamn wait.

 

 

FIN