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) 2004 by Djinn. This
story is Rated R.
Warped
by Djinn
"Lieutenant," Spock
said, his eyes shining in the way they did whenever he looked at her. "I will see you soon on the ship."
Chapel nodded, then turned
and walked away, trying not to look as if she was hurrying away from his
apartment. He was going to Qo'noS again.
Not that he'd told her that, of course,
but Cartwright knew where Spock was going, and he'd told her. Matt told her everything.
As she waited for the
elevator at the end of the hall, she turned and stared into the mirror on the
wall behind her. Valeris looked back at
her. Valeris's
calm, cool face betrayed none of Christine's inner turmoil, or her loathing for
the man she'd just left. In fact, Valeris's body never betrayed that distaste--Christine had
become expert at using her stolen Vulcan body to cover up all her
emotions.
Spock was a touch
telepath. Spock touched her all the
time. Spock hadn't a clue that she hated
him.
Spock was not as smart as
she'd always believed him to be. Or else
he was just too in love with his little Vulcan protege
to ever bother to look deep inside her for a very bitter human. A human he'd never wanted but who he made
love to with nauseating regularity. A
human who didn't want him anymore, who wanted to jump in the shower and scrub
his touch from her skin.
The elevator opened, and she
left her image behind, hurrying into the lift, and then out again. Matt, she needed to get to Matt. She could let him scrub Spock from her skin
with his lips and hands. Matt loved
her--Christine, not Valeris. And
together, they would reclaim the future.
The future Spock was so intent on selling to the Klingons.
The future that loomed just
ahead of them. But they were ready for
it. And they weren't alone. There were Klingons and Romulans who were more
than willing to play into their hands.
Who thought that this unholy alliance was really about preserving the
status quo. Chang and Nanclus could not see that in the end they would be used
and discarded. They would end up charred
husks who would die so that the Federation might endure.
Chapel wasn't sure that she
cared all that much either way. But she
loved Matt, and he did care. And she hated Spock, and he wanted what they were
trying to stop. She was no true
believer, but her zeal was solid in its own twisted way. Emotions--whether noble or dark--were as good
as causes in the long run.
Matthew was pacing when she
palmed open his door. He pulled her to
him, his lips on hers before she could get a greeting out. He hated sharing her with Spock, but he never
took it out on her, and his lips were passionate but not cruel as they forced
her mouth to open to him.
She gave herself freely, her
arms circling him, her young, strong body pressing against his, making him moan
as if his world was coming to an end.
As they sank to the floor, she felt the thrill of their passion course
through her, felt a more tender feeling follow.
She loved him so. And he loved her. And she could let go with him, be who and
what she was even if that true nature was contained in the somber Vulcan
frame. She didn't have to be on guard
for elegant fingers that strayed to the meld points even though she'd
"confided" to Spock that she did not like to meld, that she'd had a
very unpleasant experience with one early in her training. He was so sure he could help her with that,
make it better, replace the bad memory with a good one with him as the
star.
She'd snapped at him more
than once to get his hands off her face since that first time they'd had
sex. He seemed to take her ire as proof
of deep trauma, never seemed to suspect that his Vulcan lover was not precisely
what she seemed.
He always apologized
profusely each time he forgot himself.
"Christine,"
Matthew said, shaking her lightly.
"He's got you again."
She could feel her face fall. She did not like to let Spock intrude on
them. "I'm sorry." She kissed him again and again, until he
pulled her under him and made love to her fiercely.
She had not known it was
possible to love like this.
Sometimes she wondered if it
was possible to love like this only because her ardor for Matt was
counterbalanced by so much hatred for Spock.
She ignored the thought,
giving herself over to Matthew again.
Soon, it would be harder to find time together. Soon Spock would be back full time and then
she would be on the ship. His friend's
ship. The
Her old home. Only not this ship. She'd never served on this ship.
Thank god she'd never served
on this ship.
She forced herself to forget
about the ship, to pay attention to the man she loved. He seemed to be having no problem paying
attention to her.
-----------------
She sat silently, watching
her old friends as they bustled around.
They had no idea that she was to blame for what had happened. They were blissfully unaware that Sandeau and Burke had been under her orders when they'd
beamed over to Gorkon's ship and massacred the chance
for peace. They didn't suspect that Kirk
and McCoy were stuck on that frozen Klingon hell world because of her. She'd never intended her captain and mentor
to wind up paying for this, knew Matthew would be frantic trying to rescue his
old friend. They had counted on Kirk
doing what he always did--winning. They
had never counted on him doing what he never did. But he had done it. The unthinkable. He had surrendered.
Spock was going as crazy here
as her lover would be on Earth. But
while she felt bad for Matthew and for Kirk and Len, she found she could feel
nothing for Spock but some sort of sick amusement. He was hurting. Even as he ran around playing detective, he
was hurting. And she was enjoying that
hurt.
She fought a smile as she
turned to watch Uhura and Chekov wrestle with Starfleet's directive to come
home. They seemed sadly grateful for her
nudge toward sabotage. It was just one
of the countless pieces of information stored in the amazing Vulcan mind that
was now at her disposal. It had taken
time, and more sessions with a retraining helmet than she wanted to think
about, but she'd learned to make her Vulcan intellect work for her. A true Vulcan--if she were to spend any time
with one--would know something was off.
But Spock never noticed.
Then again, she no longer
considered him a true Vulcan. She often
wondered if Valeris ever had. Would the
woman have given him the time of day, or had she harbored feelings for him that
mirrored the ones he held for her sweet body?
It still amazed Chapel that
Spock could not see through her ruse.
But she also knew that people--even Vulcans--often saw only what they
wanted to.
The lift arrived, and she
could hear the doors beginning to open.
She loved the acuity of her new hearing, how every little sound was
enhanced. It made life less unknown,
made what waited around the corner just a little less scary.
Spock walked out of the
lift. She had not been able to tell he
was in it, which was a blessing. They
were not bonded, would never be bonded, despite his increasingly frequent allusions
to making their union permanent. She did
not argue, just stalled for time. She
pretended to be agreeable--for some remote and unspecified future moment when
they could join.
It would be a cold day in
hell before they would ever join.
-------------------------
Kirk was back, Leonard
too. Matthew would be happy. Chapel would be happy too, if she were not
standing in front of them all, alone.
Under fire. The traitor revealed.
She'd had to kill Burke and Sandeau. Had
stunned them first, then held the phaser to their foreheads and fired long and
patiently. It took a long time to kill a
man on stun. And she'd known they were
dead--she was a doctor for cripe's sake. Why had she fallen for the trap Spock and
Kirk had set for her? Why hadn't she
trusted in herself?
She knew why. She couldn't afford any loose ends. Wanted nothing that might implicate Matthew
or her. And so she'd gone to sickbay, to
end her co-conspirators' tentative hold on life. And had found Spock waiting for her.
She'd never seen Spock so
angry. Not as Valeris, and not earlier
as Christine Chapel. He had been
furious, had nearly broken her hand when he'd swatted away her phaser--would
have broken it if she were anything but full Vulcan.
He looked less furious now,
but she was afraid that was just a mask.
A veneer of control he'd pulled down over his rage so that he could
function.
He had loved her. She'd betrayed him.
She had a feeling that he
would not take betrayal lightly.
She decided to ignore Spock,
ignore all of them for a moment as she gathered her wits--or Valeris's--about her.
When she spoke, her voice was calm.
"I did not fire. You cannot prove anything."
"Yes, I can. At my trial
my personal log was used against me," Kirk said. "How long did you wait outside my
quarters before I noticed you?" His
voice was the clipped voice of the Kirk she'd seen too many times on the
ship. The one who'd had enough of the
bullshit and was ready to cut to the chase.
Cut through her, if need be, to get to the chase.
Peace, after all, was at
stake.
She looked at Spock. It was time to engage the enemy. "You knew? I tried to tell you but you
would not listen."
"Neither of us was
hearing very well that night, Lieutenant," he said, his voice doing
strange things to her title. It came out
nearly as an endearment, as well as a condemnation. As if he would like nothing more than to
relegate her to only a colleague, not the lover he'd spilled himself into over
and over and over. "There were
things I tried to tell you, about having faith."
Faith? What faith was there in a world where she had
been just trying to get back to her ship and had ended up in someone else's
body? Where she could destroy everything
around her, including her own soul, just by continuing to breathe? She looked at her old friends. Faith was irrelevant. This was for love now. This was for Matthew. And Matt believed. She would find some of that belief. For him, she would become a zealot. "You betrayed the Federation, all of
you."
"And what do you think
you've been doing?" McCoy asked.
"Saving Starfleet. Klingons cannot be trusted." She turned
back to Kirk. He might want to cut to
the chase, but at least he did not look at her with those martyred eyes like
Spock did. "Sir, you said so
yourself, they killed your son, did you not wish Gorkon
dead? Let them die, you said. Did I misinterpret you? And you were right. They conspired with us to
assassinate their own Chancellor. How
trustworthy can they be?"
"Klingons and Federation
members conspiring together?" That
appeared to be news to McCoy. She
wondered where he'd been. Then she
remembered. She'd consigned him to the
place where hell had frozen over.
Kirk was clearly tired of the
debate. "Who is 'us'?"
"Everyone who stands to
lose from peace." She would not
answer him. She would never betray
Matthew.
"Names,
Lieutenant."
She wanted to smile, but
forced her features into the non-expression that only a true Vulcan could
achieve. "My comrades will make
certain all your ship to shore transmissions are jammed."
"Names, Lieutenant!"
Kirk's patience--if he had any left--was leaking away.
She wanted to laugh at
him. Did he think she would be scared
by his words, by the anger that shone out of his eyes? Did he think he could intimidate her? "I do not...remember."
She turned, stared out the
viewscreen, conjuring up a picture of Matthew to keep her safe.
"A lie?" Spock asked, turning her own words from when
they'd been playing their silly detective game against her.
"A choice," she
said.
She waited and heard Kirk
say, "Spock."
Then she heard Spock's
footsteps, the ones she'd dreaded so many times as they came toward her when
she lay in his bed. The ones she'd known
meant another night with him. A night
full of steeling her mind not to react, of telling her body to let him touch
her. Of forcing herself to pretend that
she enjoyed his touch. Those hated
footsteps hit the stairs, leaden now with the anger that seemed to pour from
him. Even without ever having melded,
she could feel that.
He pulled her to him, his
fingers pushing painfully into her neck.
But not as painfully as he might have if he'd been full Vulcan. He still had human in him. He was still tainted with the very thing that
had made Christine so unattractive to him.
And he was acting like a human at this moment. She wanted to taunt him with it but decided
it would not be prudent.
Then he reached for her face,
and she panicked, tried to wrestle away from his inferior strength, but his
rage gave him the edge. His fingers
pushed down on her face, and then there was only the terrible ripping sensation
as he parted her mind in a way that was a million light years from the other
time they'd shared consciousness.
He did not care if he hurt
her.
He did not care if he damaged
her mind.
No, that was not true. He did care if he hurt her. In fact, he had never cared so much about
anything. Hurting her was his entire
world. If she was damaged in the
process, so be it.
She tried to shield, but this
was one Vulcan talent she had not exercised as she'd taken over Valeris's life. He
pushed her puny defenses aside, tore past her attempts to slow him. Her mind lay open to him, every memory, every
thought, every feeling.
He reeled back, and she could
feel his disgust as he realized that her feelings were far too human. And as he realized her memories were not what
he expected.
As he realized who she was.
NO!
The word reverberated through
her mind, nearly shattering her sanity.
Only his hand on her neck kept her upright, and her head ached, her neck
screamed for relief as she tried to sag and found his strength too great to
escape.
WHERE IS SHE?
It was a thought more than
words. A feeling more than a
message. And as he tore through her,
searching for Valeris in her mind, his rage grew.
She felt as if she might
throw up, felt his hand tighten on the meld points and desperately fought to
keep her memories away from him. But he
was already inside her most treasured ones.
Was already reliving all her times with Matt.
Her lover. The man she could not protect. Her voice and Spock's said, "Admiral
Cartwright."
"From Starfleet?"
someone--Chekov she thought--said.
"Who else?" Kirk
asked. It had to hurt to know his friend
had betrayed everything he'd thought they believed in.
Spock pressed harder. She responded with words, heard them echoing
from his mouth. "General Chang."
"Who else?"
"Romulan Ambassador Nanclus."
Spock's rage was out of
control. He gave up the interrogation,
began to pull at the memories, shredding them as she watched, helpless to stop
him. Matt, she said to herself, so she
would not forget him. Matt, Matt, Matt--
"Where is the Peace
Conference?" Kirk's voice stopped
Spock from his ransacking.
She knew she was crying,
wondered what her friends thought was going on in her mind. Then realized they still thought she was
Valeris. Would Spock tell them the
truth?
Would she?
"Where is the Peace
Conference?" Kirk said again.
Spock's hand let go of her
neck, came up to her face, pinching down on the other side, the meld points
screaming in agony as he ratcheted up the connection.
She cried out then. Pain, indescribable pain, both from his
actions and from his own feelings battered her.
She could feel his indecision then.
He could destroy her. And his
fingers pushed in just enough to make it happen. All it would take was for his mind to dip a
little lower toward her center. One
sharp tug, then a few more, and she'd be unanchored. All thought, no order.
Mad. She'd be mad.
His mind grew fingers, each
one poised to strike. She was shaking,
waiting.
What did it matter now? She had betrayed Matt. The conspiracy was over.
DO IT! She finally found her mind voice, shouted her
hatred through the meld, felt it echo inside him.
Empty. He was empty inside. Because of her. She laughed then. He was hurting as much as he was trying to
hurt her.
She wanted to make it a
little bit worse. She replayed their
time together, the sex that she hated, the kisses she wanted to wipe off her
lips, the conversations after sex when all she could think about was getting
away and over to Matt's apartment.
I HATE YOU.
He hated her too.
And he loved her. He still could not distinguish. His mind was trying to protect him. But it was only making it worse to think of
her as Valeris.
He crumbled then. Drew away and fled. "She does not know."
She stood shakily, refusing
to fall down. She realized he was too
shaken to tell them that she was not Valeris.
She decided she would not either, at least not yet. Perhaps never. It could be her final revenge. She'd never been good enough, not until she
was a full Vulcan. Why not let a full
Vulcan take the blame for what she'd done?
She did not fight
anymore. Just answered the questions,
and then let security lead her away. She
caught Spock's eye as she left, smiled and knew that the expression must be
abhorrent to him on his beloved's face.
His beloved who was no
more. Chapel rubbed her head, feeling a
massive headache starting. He had wanted
to destroy her. Part of her wished he
had.
The future would not be
pleasant. Unless, of course, Matt
managed to win.
-----------------------
Chapel paced in her cell,
wishing they'd let her see Matt. The
last time they'd been together had been at Khitomer--two
failed destroyers of peace. She wondered if Spock had a hand in their
separation. He had seen how much Matt
meant to her, had tried to destroy those memories in that terrible meld. Could he be keeping them apart just to hurt
her?
Or was it just the Federation
Council being cautious? That was
probably more likely. Spock didn't
appear to have as much pull with them as she'd expected. He and Kirk had been able to convince the
Council not to give her or Cartwright up for extradition, but Spock hadn't been
able to argue them out of the punishment they had ultimately decided for her.
She would rather be on Rura
Penthe than face what was in store.
Total Rehabilitation. It was a euphemism. It sounded so noble, like the end state of
some very successful penal system. It
was an end state, all right. And a
beginning.
Mind wipe. That was what it
meant. Mind wipe. When they were done with her, she would be a
blank slate. No more murderer. No more traitor. No more doctor. No more anything.
It was a tactic reserved for
the most heinous criminals. They were
sparing Cartwright because the headshrinkers at Starfleet medical thought
redemption was possible for him. He may
have been one of the masterminds, but his hands were only stained with second
hand blood.
And she thought that perhaps someone even higher up than Spock was looking out
for Matt.
She thought that this someone
was trying to look out for her too. One
of the guards had told her that Spock had not been the only one to try to argue
the Council out of mind-wiping her. That
some of her colleagues and past supervisors had testified. But the Council had not been swayed.
Any fool could see they
needed a scapegoat.
It had only become
embarrassing when Spock had told them the truth--that she was not really
Valeris. She'd flatly denied it, mainly
because she'd thought he had been trying to hurt her by exposing her. She'd been so stupid. By the time she'd understood what was at
stake and had begun to support his story, it had looked like she was only
trying to save herself. The Council
thought she was crafty, not crazy, and they'd upheld the sentence. It hadn't made her feel any better when
they'd looked on her with pity as they'd sentenced her to Total Rehabilitation.
Total annihilation would be a better term.
At least Matthew would be all
right. She just wished she could see him
one last time before they took everything she was away from her.
Everything that hadn't already
been lost in that damned transporter accident.
The doors hissed open, and
she looked through the force field to see Spock walk in. He talked quietly to the guard, who let him
into her cell, then turned away to give them some privacy.
"Spock." She didn't try to add any warmth to her
voice. He wouldn't care anyway. "Why are you here?"
"I came to say
goodbye." His eyes as they stared
at her were resigned, but there was something else in them. Guilt maybe?
Or regret? "It will be
tonight."
She looked down, swallowing
hard. She'd known it would be soon. Could tell it by the way the guards had been
treating her. "Soon, I will be
gone."
"Yes."
He sat down, and she could
see that his hands seemed to tremble. It
gave her a surge of satisfaction. She
didn't want to be the only one hurting.
She was losing herself, but he'd lost the woman he'd loved. "They can rip my memories away, but you
won't get her back."
"I am aware of
that. Valeris is lost to me." He looked at her, his eyes hard, angry. "Why did you not tell anyone what had
happened when you first regained consciousness?"
She'd had ample time to ask
herself the same question since she'd been captured. "And what would you have done,
Spock? Gathered your love's katra from
my dying body? Pushed me out of hers and
rushed off to Vulcan where one of your priestesses could have performed another
fal-tor-pan?
Et voila, your Valeris would have lived." She could tell by his expression that it was
exactly what he would have done.
"What about me then? I would
have died."
"Your body did die. Perhaps it was you who were meant to
die."
She shook her head. "I don't believe that. I'm alive.
She's not. End of story."
His jaw tightened. But he did not say the words she
expected. He did not taunt her by
pointing out that soon she would no longer exist either. They would both be lost. End of all stories.
"Why did you really come
here, Spock?"
He sighed, and the sound
seemed wrong coming from him. "I thought
Valeris was my lover, but it was only ever you." He stared at her, his eyes questioning, as if
still unable to understand how she could have done it.
She waited for more, wanted
more. But nothing came. "That's not an answer."
He seemed determined not to
give her one. Fell silent for moment, then said, "I will be present
during the procedure."
"Revenge?"
His expression was
reproachful. "No. Duty.
You are--she was my protege. Part of my family, in a way. And I and my family will care for whoever she
will become once you are gone from her."
She felt a chill, tried to
back away, but he caught her hand and held it tightly, out of sight of the
guard. Ever since that forced meld, the
link between them had opened at the slightest touch, and now she could feel his
pain, and the lingering anger pouring into her, could also feel his terrible
crushing sense of responsibility.
And just the slightest bit of
hope.
"You think you'll get
her back?"
He looked away. Let go of her
hand.
"Or maybe you just think
that whoever I become will be acceptable?"
"It is a Vulcan mind
that you have taken over. I do not think
that you will be strong enough to withstand a Vulcan mind coming back to
life." His eyes were dead as he
said, "Even if it is not her..."
"...it won't be
me." She laughed bitterly,
understanding what he did not want to say.
"The woman who tricked you.
The woman who almost ruined all your big plans."
He met her gaze. "The woman who I would rather have never
known."
She didn't flinch, didn't
look away. Once upon a time, that remark
would have stung. Might have made her
cry. Now, it barely made a dent on the
warped and tangled thing that was her conscience, her heart, her soul.
"I want to see Matthew
again. Just once."
"And I want to see
Valeris again. Just once. Neither of us will get our wish." He stood up.
"I won't say I'm
sorry."
He almost smiled. "That is good. Because I know you are not. Except perhaps for yourself." He walked to the force field, motioned for
the guard.
"I am sorry for
her. I liked her. She was my friend."
"Is that so? Then I would not want to be your friend,
Christine."
He slipped out as the field
came down, did not stop to look back as the guard turned the force field back
on.
She sank onto the bench. It would happen tonight. She felt a rush of fear, and an even stronger
surge of nausea, and closed her eyes.
She would be lost after tonight.
Christine Chapel would cease to exist.
And Matt would be lost to her
after tonight too. Turning her back on
the guard, she lay down and thought of Matt, remembering every moment that she
could, replaying it over and over in her mind until he filled her. She pushed everything else away. He was her world; he was everything she cared
about.
He was the only thing she
cared about.
When they came to take her,
she didn't fight them, just kept her mind focused on Matt. She could almost feel his lips on hers, his
gentle touch on her arm whenever he'd had to wake her so she could go back to
Spock.
She did not make them force
her into the chair, did not fight as the helmet was lowered, as the straps were
tied around her arms and legs. She felt
fear and let it flow through her, but did not stop thinking of Matt. He would be afraid now too. Afraid for her, and for himself. Because he loved her.
Because he would always love
her.
She heard the sound of
buttons being pushed, could make out the separate tones. Matthew had sounded different through Vulcan
ears. His voice more rich, more
nuanced. She'd been able to tell what he
was feeling just by the layers of his tone.
A piercing pain shot through
her, and she screamed his name.
Then there was only blackness
and thundering noise in her head. She
felt as if she was drowning, tried to breathe and felt too heavy to suck in
air.
She opened her mouth, called
out for him again, but the scream came out as a moan.
Then there was only agony.
--------------------
She sat. She tried to move, could not. Where was she?
Who was she?
She felt gentle hands on her,
her arms and legs were suddenly free, and her vision cleared as something large
and heavy was pulled off her head.
Faces, so many faces. They peered at her, one in particular seemed
so close. He had pointy ears and greenish skin and he was looking at her
funny.
Then he called her,
"Valeris," and reached for her face.
Fear filled her, and she
flinched back.
"It's all right,"
one of the others said, a woman who smelled good when she pulled her into
comforting arms. "It's too soon,
sir. Please let her be."
The green one nodded and
moved back as the nice woman helped her stand up. She almost fell, but the woman held her
up.
"It's okay, dear."
A man took her other side,
helping to support her. "You're
going to be all right," he said softly, and he gave her a strange
look.
She thought she should know
what it meant, but she didn't.
Sad. The word came to her suddenly. He looked sad. Was he sad for her? Why?
Why be sad when everyone was so nice to her and it was okay and she was
going to be all right?
The nice woman talked softly
to her. "It's all right now. No one's going to hurt you."
She liked the sound of the
woman's voice, so she cuddled against her and felt the woman's hand on her
hair. Then the woman's hand went around
her shoulders, and she led her away from green man.
"Where are you taking
her, Nurse?"
"There's been a change
in orders, sir. The Federation Council
believes Valeris's retraining would be best
accomplished here. They've denied your
request for custody."
"I was not informed of
these orders."
The woman turned so she could
hand him a padd. "I'm sorry,
sir. They must have forgotten to include
you when they sent the order out."
The green one moved toward
them, but the nice man stepped in front of him.
"It's official, sir. Admiral
Darnell brought this padd by himself."
She didn't understand what
they were talking about, but she thought that the green man looked angry.
"You'll be able to see
her any time you want, sir. Unlimited
supervised visits." The woman
sounded very sweet.
She liked the woman so
much. She looked over at the green
one. He seemed even angrier than before.
She wished she understood
what was happening.
He finally walked away, and
she felt relief as the doors closed behind him.
He made her feel funny. Like her
insides were all twisted up.
The nice man walked to the
door and said, "He's gone."
"Come on, dear. Let's go." The woman urged her forward, her hand back on
her hair.
Being touched felt so
good. They walked, and she pressed
against the woman who never stopped rubbing her hand down her hair. They went past other people; people who made
the nice woman and man stare into a box before they could go farther.
Then they were taking her
through some doors, to a small room with a long chair with no back. A man sat there.
He looked very sad.
He didn't say anything, just
stared at her.
The woman was stroking her
hair even harder.
She stared at the man,
wondering why they were not moving anymore.
Why were they standing in front of him?
Why did she have to watch him?
He finally looked down,
brought his hand up and pushed at his forehead.
He always did that when he
was sad.
She cried out softly, unsure
why she was filled with the need to push his hand away from his face. Why she thought he should be smiling.
"Sir..." the woman
said softly.
The man looked up at her,
letting his hand drop. "Do you know
who I am?"
She frowned. Backed up a little and saw him frown
too.
"Christine," he
said.
She stepped forward, pulling
out of the woman's grasp. "What
does that mean?"
He said the Christine word
again. And again. And again.
"Close your eyes,"
the woman said. "Just listen to
him."
She did as the woman
said. Heard the force field coming down,
heard his footsteps coming toward her and suddenly heard other footsteps,
heavier, coming toward her in the dark. She
felt afraid, took a step back.
"No. Please."
The footsteps stopped. "Christine, don't be afraid. No one is going to hurt you."
She smiled. She knew that. Matt would never hurt her.
Matt?
Matt.
Matt, Matt, Matt.
The woman moved her closer to
the man. "Christine, this is
Matthew. Do you remember him?"
She shook her head. Then she nodded. She wanted to cry. This was so confusing.
"That's enough for
today," the Matt man said. His
voice made her feel safe.
"The man who just
left?" The woman turned her so she
had to look her in the eye. "When
he comes to visit you, you must not tell him about Matt. Do you understand?"
She nodded. Felt a shiver run down her neck. Why did the green man have to come back?
"Don't scare her,"
the Matt man said.
She looked up at him,
narrowing her eyes. His voice had so
many parts. "Who am I?"
"You are Christine
Chapel." He sighed. "And you are Valeris. If anyone but us is around, you are
Valeris."
"I don't
understand."
"You will soon,"
the woman said. "We're going to
retrain you a different way then what Spock thinks."
She frowned. "Who's
Spock?"
Matt laughed, it seemed like
a very happy laugh. "The man who
just left."
"He's scary."
"I know."
She stepped closer to him,
and he slowly reached out for her, and this time she wasn't afraid of fingers
coming at her.
She heard him make a strange
sound as he pulled her against him.
Sniffing, she smiled. He smelled
good. He smelled like happy things.
"I love you." He touched her hair, and it felt soft and
good, but she wasn't sure what he'd touched her with since his hands were on
her arms.
She looked up at him, and
then he leaned in and touched her again, his lips on hers.
It felt good too.
"Matt," she said,
wishing she understood what she felt.
"That's right. Matt."
He pushed her away from him gently, and stepped back, and the nice man
put the force field back in place.
"I'm Christine,"
she said.
Matt nodded. "But you can't say that."
She remembered. "For everyone else, I'm Valeris."
"That's right."
"Come on, hon. Tomorrow's going to be a big day. First day of school."
She looked at Matt, and he
nodded. "It's all right. Go with Maura."
"Matt," she said
again. It felt good to say it.
He smiled, and she smiled
back. Then the nice woman led her to a
room with a little bed and a big pillow, and she sank down on the bed, closing
her eyes.
"Long live the
conspiracy," the woman said.
"Long live the
conspiracy," she echoed back.
Whatever that meant.
FIN