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 R.

That Chance We Never Had

by Djinn






Kirk watches Rand, knowing he’s the reason she’s leaving his ship.  He’s offered her another position, has even come up with a plan to train her in several different departments—she’s shot down everything he proposed.


She told him she wants more from him.  She wants too much from him.


She wants him to break his rule for her.  And when he said he couldn’t, she had a counter:  “You did, when it was just the part of you that took what he wanted.  I’m not saying I want that—obviously I don’t, since I fought that version of you off.  But he was you, right?  That’s what you told me.  So some part of you wants me.  Some part of you chose me.”


He can’t argue with her logic.  That part of him did choose her.  She’s a beautiful woman—but he’s not allowed to notice.


The captain’s married to his ship.


The captain’s not allowed to have a life.  What was it he said to Spock?  No beach to walk on?


He realizes someone is staring at him, feels his hackles go up the way they’ve always done.  That Kirk luck has a lot to do with this ability.  He turns slowly, casually, as if he’s just checking out who’s at Janice’s going away party.


Chapel smiles when he finally looks at her.  Then she walks over to his quiet corner where he’s mostly being left alone.  This is Janice’s night.  This is a night when the captain can disappear into the woodwork.  He’s made his speech; the crew has given gifts.  She’ll be off at Starbase Sixteen by morning.


And he’ll break in a new yeoman.  One without her legs, her hair.


Chapel sidles closer.  “You should get her out of your system.”  She says it so softly he is sure no one else heard her—he can barely hear her.


“Excuse me?”


“For both your sakes.”  She is watching Janice with a fond look—a sad one, too.  “I’m going to miss her.”


“What are you doing, Christine?”


“Do you really want her last memory of you being close to her to be that other you?”  She lifts her eyebrow in a creditable imitation of Spock.  “You did me a favor—Roger, too—when you got so...creative on your report when we found him.  I feel I owe you.  So I’m telling you what I think you should hear.  You need to find out what you’ve been missing.”  She gives him a gentle smile, then takes a sip of her drink.


“Don’t you have a Vulcan to go harass?”


“He told you?  I wondered if he would.”


“I wormed it out of him when he was looking at you a little...differently the other night while we were playing chess.”


She doesn’t ask if it was different bad or different good.  He likes her all the more for that.  What Spock admitted was that she had proclaimed strong feelings for him when the Psi 2000 virus hit.  He didn’t, however, seem particularly troubled by her interest in him.


Kirk wonders if he should tell Chapel to go get it out of her system. 


She gives him a strange smile and says, “I’m going to leave you to think, sir.”


“Thanks for that.”


She looks positively devilish as she nods slightly and heads over to the group around Janice.


Kirk helps himself to another drink but makes it half soda water.  He doesn’t want to be drunk while he’s thinking about what Chapel’s said.


He doesn’t sleep with his crew.


Janice won’t be his crew after tonight.


How tightly does he have to hew to his rule?


He leaves his little corner as the night wears on, joins the group that is around Janice, then drifts off to talk to others.  But he stays at the party longer than he would usually, and he thinks Janice is starting to realize it.  She looks at him and her eyes narrow, but when he smiles, she seems to relax.


It’s not a smile he normally gives her.


The smile she shoots him back before she turns to another group of well-wishers is not the smile she normally gives him.


Finally, the crowd has thinned to those who aren’t there anymore for Janice and she turns to him.  “Help me carry my stuff back to my quarters?”  There is a no lack of ballsiness in her request—especially since she could easily carry her small haul back herself.


“You bet,” he says and hurries to grab the presents.


They walk in silence to the lift, ride it to her deck, and he follows her to the door of her quarters. 


She turns, seems to be studying him.  “What are we doing?”


“That’s up to you.”  It comes out less suave than he means it to.  Probably because his voice cracks a little.


She’s still his crew.


But she’s leaving in the morning.


“Well, while I decide, come in and put my presents over by my packing cartons.”


He follows her in, sets the items gently on the floor by the cartons already full of her personal possessions.  The room is strangely bare, no personality left in it, other than what is provided by the two of them.


He turns and she has moved closer. 


She licks her lips—a nervous move, he thinks, not one calculated to titillate—and her voice cracks a little when she asks, “Do you want me?”


“Yes.”  It is the best answer he can give her.  Truth, but nothing beyond that.  “This isn’t the start of some—”


“Do you think I’m an idiot?  I know it’s not the start of anything.  It’s the end.”


“Yes.  The end.”  He touches her cheek, and she leans into his palm.  “Do you want me?”


“That’s the dumbest question ever.  You know why I’m leaving.”


He laughs.  “But tonight.  Just tonight.  Do you want that?”


She nods, then she moves into his arms, and they are kissing the way he has imagined kissing her.


Except...while her lips are full, they aren’t very soft.  He expected kissing her to feel sweeter.  When she pulls his clothes off, she sort of pinches crucial parts of him.  And doesn’t appear to notice.


She kisses him again—would it be fair to call her kisses sloppy?  And then she moves down his chest to his nipples and—ouch, holy shit!


“Janice, you’ve done this before, right?”


She stops, moves away from his chest, thank God, and stares at him.  “Of course.  Do you always ask that?”  She looks confused.


He realizes that the right answer at this moment is most definitely, “Yes.  I don’t want to assume.”


“Oh.  Gentleman to the end.”  She laughs and pushes him onto the bed, and climbs aboard before he expects her to—he’s lying a bit farther up on the bed than he should be, his neck is cricked and as she moves, his head hits the wall.  Hard.


She’s exuberant, he’ll give her that.  And limber.  At times, she seems to lean back so far he’s afraid Jim Junior is going to break.  He tries to roll her over, but her grip is like iron.  He tries to get her off quick, finally does, and with relief lets himself go, too.


As she collapses, as he lies under her, his head is jammed against the wall, the pillow not doing much to help.  He slowly maneuvers her off him, and inches down until he isn’t in such an uncomfortable position.


“That was wonderful,” she says, and her smile is a real one.


She really thinks it was wonderful.


He slowly exhales, feels something leaving him, thinks it’s any regret he had over what might have been.


Thank God, he’s got her out of his system.


“So,” she says, as she plays with Jim Junior, who seems to want to do nothing more than crawl under a rock and hide.  “How much more fun can I get out of you?”


He gives her a game smile and gets on top before she can mount him again.  Then he closes his eyes and tries to imagine he actually likes what she’s doing to him.  He thinks of Ruth, Carol, Janice, hell even Spock.  Anything to get hard.


It’s one hell of a long night.




He sees Chapel in the mess the next day.  Her look is devilish, and she laughs as he puts his tray down at her table and sits down gingerly.


“Jan get off all right?”


He decides to ignore the double entendre.  “Beamed off an hour ago.”  He studies her, not sure how much to say, and she bursts out laughing, then seems to realize people are staring at her and goes back to eating.


“What the hell, Christine?”


“She’s just really the worst, isn’t she?”  Chapel meets his eyes; hers are filled with tears—from trying not to laugh.  “She and I did it the night before last, when we were drinking and I was helping her pack.  She’s so pretty, and I was sad about her leaving, and she’s been with girls before.   I have, too—lots of times—but I’ve never told her that, fortunately, or I’d be afraid she’d want to do it again.”


He starts to laugh. 


“I thought at first she was just joking around.  Or that it was her first time ever.”


“Yep.”  He nods in an “I went down that road, too” way. 


“I tried to get her with Pav last night.  Thought they might do well together.”

“He’s not good, either?”


“I have no direct experience.  But from what I’ve heard...”


“Really wish you’d succeeded in pairing them up.”  He frowns.  “And I thought you said you owed me one.  How was this paying me back?”


“You’ll never wonder now, will you?  If you and she...?”  She reaches over and pats his hand.  “No illusions, in this case, seemed the best thing.  I found that out, thought I’d share the love.”


“Or lack thereof.  Were you sore after?”


“Oh my God.  I felt like a vacuum had gone down on me.”


He nods and feels Jim Junior trying to hide more than he already is at the memory of Janice’s blow job.  “Our secret, Christine.”


“Our secret, sir.”  She holds her coffee cup up and he clinks it softly.  “Most disappointing night ever.”


“I know.  I really thought she’d be good.”


“You and me both, ’hon.  You and me both.”