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.Ó
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