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) 2022 by Djinn. This story is Rated R.

Forces in Opposition, Forces Aligned

by Djinn

Spock watched Christine as she sat at the terminal in her quarters. He had taken a shower, got into bed, and read several articles on his padd, but she was still not ready to join him. "Christine, you need sleep."

"You don't want me over there for sleep." She glanced back at him and winked.

"While this is true for the immediate future, ultimately I do wish for you to rest."

"Give me five more minutes."

"You said that five minutes ago, and ten, and fifteen." He was, despite his desire to make love to her, impressed with the intensity of her focus. She was almost Vulcan in her ability to ignore distractions.

Her terminal pinged and a moment later she said, "This is weird."

"The data?"

"No, someone in my lab. Saying they can't help me. I didn't ask for much—just the stuff I cared most about in case she was only in the mood to help me once, but it wasn't anything sensitive. In fact, it was my work—but I couldn't take it with me since it technically belongs to the school and isn't related to the project I'm working on here." She was very still, staring at the screen as if she could figure out the reasons for the denial merely by studying the few lines of text.

Then her terminal pinged again, the sound of an incoming comm, and she looked at the notification and said, "Get out of range of the camera."

He did not ask why; he simply moved into the bathroom, where he could hear but not be seen. He made sure he was not in view of the mirror.

She took an uncharacteristically deep breath and then said, "This is a surprise."

"Is it, darling?"

Spock did not like the way the man said that endearment. Almost mockingly but in the way of someone who had known her. Intimately. This must be the professor she had mentioned. Her former lover. Roger Korby.

"It is."

"Well, you don't call. You don't write. Where's the love?" He laughed in what was again a mocking way. "I wanted to talk to you directly. I didn't want you to think Andrea turned down your request for any reason other than that I told her to."

"Why?"

"I had my reasons."

"It's my data."

"No, it's Stanford's. As you well know. And also, as you know, we work closely with Starfleet. It's the reason, after all, that you're where you are. I'm afraid no one here will be able to help you. I have no idea why you might be needing that particular information but if, say, it was about augments, then it might be good to know that I've been asked to be an expert witness in an upcoming case. There might, strangely enough, be a conflict of interest here. I know you understand."

Spock could hear her leaning in. "Roger, you've never been a fan of Starfleet."

"Nevertheless, the grant money is exceptional. And I do like having my projects in no danger of interruption."

"You also like a challenge. This—the other side of what you might be working on—is far more interesting. Far more worth your time."

"But they have you, my dearest. My best student. Good luck taking me on."

Spock expected the line to go quiet, but instead Korby asked, in a voice that lacked any trace of mockery, "How serious are you about whoever it is you're with?"

"Is that why you're doing this?"

"No. I'd never let personal things get in the way of what's right. Would you?"

"You're not seriously going to lecture me on ethics right now, are you? Because I wonder how happy Starfleet would be to hear about your little project. The one I refused to do because—of the two of us—I'm the one with a working set of ethics."

"I don't know what you're talking about." But Spock heard something off in his voice, an uncertainty.

"Roger, you like to win fair and square. It's why I admire you. What I'm asking for is minimal, and it's easy to see that it supports a paper I'm working on. Please—make it a level competition between us here."

"That would be my preference." He sounded sincere but not as if he was going to surrender the data.

"I made copies of what you wanted me to do. They never left Stanford's servers. But they're not in the biolab anymore."

"That's a direct violation—"

"So was what you wanted me to do. So, what do you say? Just have Andrea give me what I want, and we won't have to talk about this ever again."

"And you'll tell me where you stashed the information?"

"Not a chance. I know how fast you can shred a reputation when you're angry."

"I do miss you, Christine." He sounded like he meant it. As admiring of Christine's at times sneaky ways as Spock often was. "I hope whatever—and whoever—you're doing there ends soon and you come back to me."

He expected her to say she did not hope that.

Or for Korby to go to hell. Or one of her other colorful metaphors.

Or to say nothing at all and just end the comm.

He did not expect her to nearly whisper, "You never know."

"You have a deal. I'll tell Andrea to get you your data. Maybe I'll see you at the hearing."

"I doubt it. Goodnight, Roger." There was the ping of a comm window shutting down and then she said softly, 'You can come out."

As he walked out of the bathroom, she shut down her work and turned off the terminal, joining him on the bed. ""I'm kind of glad you heard that."

"As am I. If he was a romantic partner, I can see how he might make you"—how did his mother say it? Ah yes—"gun shy regarding commitment."

She nodded and just sat quietly, when usually she or he would have already initiated sexual activity. He sensed she needed to talk more than she needed sex.

"You blackmailed him, Christine, but I lack context to understand exactly how." He reached out and took her hand as gently as he could. "Do you wish to tell me?"

She nodded immediately.

"Are you going to?"

"I don't know. I think—I think you won't like me as much."

"Perhaps you should tell me and find out?"

"Okay." She gently pulled her hand away from his.

He studied her. "Are you afraid I will know if you are lying if we are touching?"

"Oh, no. I...I have so many emotions around Roger. Love and anger and even shame. I didn't want to inflict those on you. But if you want to gauge my truthfulness, go ahead." She held her hand out.

He debated, but finally eased her hand back down to the bed and let it go. "You cannot read me when I relay information. It seems unfair in this instance for me to have that advantage."

"I love you." Before he could think of how to answer she held up a hand. "Don't. Don't lie and say it back. I just—I just want to say that now. Because I do. I love how fair you are. I wish I'd met you first."

She took a deep breath, much as she had before talking to Korby. "Roger had an immune system project. It was striding the line between gene therapy and augmentation. We all thought it was safely on the therapy side. The grant committee decided it was too big a risk and denied it. But we were all convinced Roger had found something potentially so important to so many people that we became the unofficial test group. He performed the procedure on all of us and we spent our down time challenging our immune system by going where people were sick. Number One noticed that I did not get sick during the Illyrian crisis."

"I had wondered about that. But I have never seen you anything but healthy. So you are..." He frowned. "Are you augmented?"

"No. No, it's not that. It's wearing off, to be honest. I've been sick before and since but not during that outbreak."

"I fail to see how this is something he would let unnerve him the way it clearly did. The ethics are questionable but you were all willing participants and highly knowledgeable ones. There was no deception."

"He wanted me to test it against novel viruses. Here. Using the crew without their knowledge, letting the gene transformation I was doing to make temporary disguises mask that I was also doing his procedure. I didn't do it—I wouldn't do it. In fact, I knew it was no longer working when I reported for duty here. I didn't tell him that, though, because I wanted to come here and work on my project, and he would have denied the rotation if he'd known his project was off the table. I told him once Number One found out. He knows that someone here with some authority knows, but he doesn't know who. He doesn't know it's the person he's going to be an expert witness against."

"Does she know it was him."

"I didn't say a name but she knew how I liked my drinks before I even told her—it would have taken her a hot second to find out who my professors were."

"But you did not do it. And the proof that he wanted to do this is at Stanford, where we cannot get it."

"Yes. And the proof is something an expert panel would take weeks to figure out the ramifications of. At a trial, it'd be so over their heads. They'd just wave it off. He's still famous, still a recognized expert. So charismatic. It would be his word against mine and I serve with her. Plus, I'm with you and you're one of her protégés. I won't be seen as objective. He will."

"I agree. I believe Number One will come to the same conclusion."

"But we'll get the data I asked for. And we'll add it to what we're getting from the Starfleet data. Only I can't go back to Stanford for any other things I'll need. But I made sure that would be information we might be able to find other places. Like, say, the Vulcan Science Academy."

"I have contacts there who might help. Prepare a list of what you need. I will see what I can get."

"Okay." She still seemed tense. "Do you think less of me?"

"Christine, I know what it is to have a domineering presence plan your future—and how at times one must resort to subterfuge to secure the future you really want." He had lost his father's respect—and his love, if he'd ever had that—over his decision not to attend the Vulcan Science Academy, his secret application to Starfleet. "I do not think less of you. In fact, I think I understand you better." He reached out to stroke her hair. "The last thing you said to him, about seeing him again, I do not like to think of you with him. I wish—I wish I could give you assurance that what we have will endure."

She jerked away. "Spock, you can give me that assurance. You're just choosing not to. You're choosing to live in this halfway point of hiatus rather than tell T'Pring it's over. Don't get me wrong. I get it. It's what I was doing when I came here, after all. Half in at Starfleet, but also half out. And I still am, and you still are, so don't get all hurt—if I'm honest enough to admit to the man who had me first—that I may be back, that I may be leaving here."

"I am sor—"

"Don't. Don't say you're sorry. This is what it is."

It was very Vulcan of her to say that. "But I am still sorry."

"But a sorry doesn't feel that good when the behavior will continue." She got up and began to pace. "I need to do something. Run or shoot—why isn't La'an here? The new chief kicked me out of the security lounge the last time I tried to use the simulator."

He had no idea what she was talking about but felt the immediate jealousy—and possessiveness—he'd always felt when he'd seen her interact with the other woman. They had an ease he did not fully understand. He would not have imagined someone as tightly strung as La'an to appeal to Christine, or vice versa. And yet they stood so close, laughed in the way people with shared secrets and a deep affinity do.

"Christine, come here."

"No, I need to do something."

"Come. Here." He put every measure of authority he could in his voice.

She walked to the bed. "You think you can give me what I need right this minute? Because I feel like I'm coming out of my skin."

He yanked her down—carefully but with enough force to feel her surprise through their linked hands.

"I do." He rolled her over him so she was on her back and swiftly removed her clothes, stopping just short of ripping them off her. Touching her often as he went, making sure this was really what she needed.

He felt no fear. He did feel excitement. And trust.

And he felt affection and gratitude and the love that he was coming to count on experiencing from her.

"Put your arms over your head."

She did as he said and he felt a thrill—was this something that should feel good to him too? He was not sure but could not deny that it did, that she looked so tantalizing, that he liked the way she was looking at him. He slowly eased her legs apart and murmured, "Do not move until I say you can."

It was a command she was not able to follow; he had her writhing in no time, pulling him up and into her, kissing him in a frantic way that slowly became more playful the longer he moved inside her. They ended with her atop him, holding his arms down, laughing as she said, "Try to move."

He did not want to. He wanted to let her hold him down and ride him until they were both satisfied. Until they were both moaning into each other's skin.

When they finally lay quietly together, and they were both sweaty and breathing hard, he said, "You are remarkable, Christine. And I do not just mean in bed." He kissed her cheek gently. "I was jealous, picturing him with you. Or you with La'an at whatever kind of simulator you can no longer use. You mention her and I see you with her and I want to..." He let himself give a short puff of frustration and she laughed gently in response. "You make me feel so much. Is it enough for now?"

She studied him, not giving him a quick answer, a half-hearted "Sure" as he'd seen humans do when they were trying to keep the peace. She was considering, her brain engaged in this as much as her heart. Finally, as she pulled him down to her for a kiss, she murmured, "It is."

##

M'Benga scanned a newly reported crewman and tried to ignore whatever Christine was doing in her office. She had been fixated on what appeared to be a side project—she'd cc'd him as a courtesy on the abstract approval request she'd sent to the captain. When he'd questioned her sudden interest in augments, she'd had a ready answer—but then she always did. She claimed working with Una had spurred her curiosity.

Which might make sense if Spock was not also constantly with her. M'Benga understood Spock being with her after hours because they were clearly involved, and he had decided not to push his nose into that roiling water, but he saw no reason for Spock to be in sickbay this often during duty hours unless they were working on something to help Una.

The anger he'd barely kept under the surface since Rukiya had left threatened to flare again. He knew it was grief, but knowing it and controlling it were two different things. It had helped when Una was here, a willing ear, someone who understood.

Now, he was alone. And apparently his friend and captain had bypassed him and gone to not just his subordinate but a civilian to help him.

He finished with the crewman and sent him on his way, then told the other doctor on shift she was in charge. Bates was new, barely had interacted with him, so did not seem to notice the unnatural curtness in his voice, the impatience as he waited for her to acknowledge what he'd said. For all she knew, this unpleasant man he could suddenly morph into was how he always was.

The old him would have cared. But the old him had a daughter he could hold, could hug, could take to the park or a swimming hole.

The old him was happy. Now he just hoped to someday reach content.

Normally he would comm Chris and let him know he was coming. He didn't feel like doing that today. And it was in his purview to observe the command staff at their duties. He tried to walk off the lift onto the bridge with that attitude, that he had a right to be here, that he was the CMO, the man Chris had picked to be able to relieve him of duty.

Chris looked very surprised to see him. "Doc? Everything all right?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

The look on Chris's face said everything. "Let's go into my ready room."

"By all means." He followed and tried to school his features into something resembling the old ease he used to feel with this man.

That he no longer felt. Had not really felt since Chris had come back from his time away.

Or perhaps it was not since he'd decided to hide his daughter in the transporter buffer and not tell anyone he'd done it. The scar of secrets stretched both ways.

He expected Chris to lead him to the couch and comfortable chairs, but he chose the conference table, taking the end seat so M'Benga had to either sit very far away if he wanted to face him, or choose the seat next to him. He had a rebellious urge to remain standing.

Chris laughed softly as if he could read his mind—M'Benga used to think he could sometimes. "Sit?"

He sat. "There is something going on. You have Christine working on something to help Una, don't you?"

Chris sat and studied him, not answering, finally nodding.

"Why would you not tell me that? She works for me. I feel—" What? What did he feel? Left out? Hurt? Useless?

"Doc, you and I, we've always been honest with each other. It's why I chose you for my CMO." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, as if steeling himself. "But something's changed. With you. With us. I don't feel it—the comfort."

"I could say the same thing. You came back from your rotation a very different man."

"I did. You're not wrong." He smiled, the wry smile that used to put M'Benga so at ease. "But were you ever going to tell me about your daughter?"

He froze.

"Did you think Una wouldn't tell me, Joseph?"

He had. He had counted on that. He should have known better. "When did she tell you?"

"When it was clear I wasn't going to let go of those missing five hours."

"Of course not. You wouldn't." And the old him would have known that.

"But, why didn't you tell me? It was Rukiya. Do you think I wouldn't have understood?"

"I was desperate." He finally looked, really looked, at his friend. Seeing lines that hadn't been under his eyes before. More gray in his hair. But also a deeper compassion shining from his eyes than he remembered. "I was afraid."

"I understand that, believe me." He closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. "And I was different. You thought you couldn't trust me anymore."

"I wasn't sure, that's true." He felt something inside him relaxing. This was the first time since they'd gotten out of refits that he and Chris had really talked like this. "Una told you that Rukiya is gone?"

"She did. I'm so sorry. But I'm also glad she found a way to make a new life—out of a death sentence." He reached over and gripped his hand hard. "I came back different because I found out when I die. I can't explain it—not because it's unexplainable but because it's classified."

"I'm cleared."

"Not for this." He held his hand up and made their old signal for "So above our paygrade." "And I won't really die, but I'll never be the same."

M'Benga put his hand over Chris's, pushing down hard, giving comfort—or as much as he could.

"It's okay now. I'm okay now. I've...come to terms with what's going to happen to me. How...changed I'll be." He laughed bitterly. "The Majalans had a cure. Alora, their leader, offered me a place there, a way to live beyond that accident, good as new—hell, maybe better. But on the back of that poor kid. I couldn't. No matter how much I want to live, I won't do it at someone else's expense—not knowingly."

"Of course you won't. But you should know that the child's father gave me some information to help Rukiya. Not a cure and ultimately it was not useful for her. But...what if it was for you? What if I can work on something now that might help you then?"

"I don't think it works that way."

"Well, it definitely won't if I don't try. You will need to walk me through what happens. Not today but soon. Everything you remember that you will go through. Leave nothing out. Any detail might help. I couldn't save my daughter, Chris. But you...?"

"No, I can't let you do this. Because you might not be able to save me. In fact, I'm pretty sure you won't be able to. Or I'd have seen a different future." He should have sounded defeated or angry, but he just seemed to accept this.

Well, M'Benga would not accept this, not yet. "You don't know that. And even if it doesn't work, at least I would have tried."

"I didn't just see my future. I felt it. And—well, there was something else that confirmed why it has to happen. I can't escape."

"Let me try. If not for you, then for me. It will give me what I need, I think. A purpose. For someone I love." He leaned in, trying to make Chris feel how much he wanted—and needed—to do this. "I am so angry—inside. All the time. I have smashed more things in my quarters than you could imagine." He smiled sheepishly because everyone always assumed he was so calm, so mellow. But this man had seen other sides to him. "Please, Chris. Let me try?"

"Okay." Chris put his other hand on M'Benga's and squeezed; both their eyes were glistening, even if neither seemed willing to blink hard enough to let the tears fall. "Okay, you can try."

"Good. Yes."

"I'm—I'm sorry, Joseph. I should have trusted you with this."

"I feel the same. I will not make that mistake again, Chris. I promise you. And if my favorite nurse and her new paramour need anything for your Una project, they have only to ask."

"Thank you. And do you know what's up with them? Have you ever heard of a hiatus in Vulcan betrothal?"

"No. And I, for one, am not looking forward to the next time we run into T'Pring."

"Oh, man. Remember that time in—"

"Nairobi," they both said together. Then they laughed, like the old times, when things were easy and they had their entire future ahead of them, open and welcoming. When nothing was funnier than a stupid colleague who thought he could play around and not have his partner find out—and try to push him into a crocodile pond.

"Good times," Chris said squeezing again, then letting him go.

"The best."

##

Ortegas walked around engineering slowly, smiling at the crew until she found the out-of-the-way spot Nyota had chosen to—hide? Think? Plan her future again for the umpteenth time. "Whatcha doing?"

"I heard you coming."

"You always do." She slid down so she was sitting next to Nyota, leaning against the wall. They had a perfect view of where Hemmer used to sit for lunch. "I miss him, too."

"I know." Without looking, Nyota reached for her hand and she reached back. "I'm really going to miss you when I go back to the Academy."

"Ditto, kiddo."

"You know I hate to be called that."

"It's better than 'Newb.'"

"True." Uhura sighed and let go of her hand. "I miss Una too. I didn't think I would. I mean I'd never, ever call her Una in real life, you know? But she was there and she was so solid and strong and now she's just gone."

"For being different. It's a stupid, old rule."

"In a long line of stupid, old rules."

"Amen, sister."

Nyota began to make some weird design on the floor but didn't seem aware she was doing it. She'd have these random mystical moments that Ortegas didn't really get but found charming. "Christine and Spock are with the captain a lot."

"Yep." She was not going to dish on her friend. Even if she had wondered what they were all working on. Knowing the captain, it had to be about Number One.

"On my first away mission, I teased Spock that Christine was his girlfriend. Now she is."

She didn't answer, didn't know where Nyota was going to go with it.

But all she said, almost wistfully, was, "They seem happy. I hope it lasts. It doesn't always."

"Yeah, just ask his fiancée." Shit, she was not going to talk about this.

"Exactly." But Nyota didn't seem to need to gossip, just to randomly comment, as she'd first told her she might do. "Have you ever been in love?"

"Yep."

"I haven't. Even before my parents and brother died, I was always looking inside. Even as I worked so hard to communicate with people. I never let anyone in. That's weird, isn't it? Thirty-seven languages and nobody really knows me."

"Nobody really knows any of us." Thirty-seven languages was a lot of freaking words to remember. Then again Ortegas had memorized a whole lot of text and diagrams about flying. Everyone's brain worked differently, but passion was passion and you were good at what you were good at. "So, are you going to stay in Starfleet?"

"Yeah."

She waited for more but there wasn't any. "Okay then."

"What? Haven't I verbally expressed my inner career struggle enough for you?" She laughed. "I want to stay. I want to excel. And I want to be on this ship."

"No problem there. The captain will snap you up so fast it'll make your head spin."

"You think?" She actually sounded unsure. Such a contradiction. So skilled in so many areas but self-esteem not always on par.

"I don't think. I know." She stood and held out a hand to pull Nyota up. "Come on. Let's get stupid drunk and then take antitox and do it all over again."

"I'm not in the mood to drink."

"Then let's get sundaes and go nuts with the whipped cream."

"You're on."

##

Chapel wandered around the life sciences section, periodically asking people where Sam Kirk sat. She finally found his office. The door was open and he was alone so she leaned in and said, "Hi." She was trying to sound friendly but it still pissed her off what an ass he'd been to Spock on the Peregrine.

"Oh, hi. Christina, right?"

"Christine."

"Oh, sorry."

"No problem. Do you have a moment?"

"I have lots of moments. Anthropology isn't the most exciting area on the ship. Well, except the other day."

She wasn't sure why he'd even been on that mission but managed to not say it out loud. "Yeah. That was a tough one." She took the seat he indicated.

"Yeah. My brother would have been in his element. Me, not so much."

What was she supposed to do with that? "Um, so, I wanted to pick your brain if I could. I'm a geneticist and I'm working on a paper about augments."

"Oh, because our first officer happens to be one." He laughed in a way that bugged her, even if she wasn't Number One's biggest fan.

"Something like that."

"And then there's La'an."

If he said anything about La'an, she was going to deck him.

He seemed to realize that. "Who is probably your friend, come to think of it. Okay, so how can I help?"

"What do we know about the Illyrians? I mean other than they augment. I'm trying to get some context and the data I'm finding is a bit thin."

"Yeah, it's really thin. Like single ply thin. Starfleet and the Federation have gone out of their way to shun them, which has not helped anyone in my field. But from what I've read, the Illyrians are really diverse; they don't all augment the same way. It's situational."

"Situational how?"

"The way it was explained to me by a prof I had who actually lived on one of their worlds was that instead of terraforming a place to fit their needs, they changed themselves to fit their surroundings."

"That doesn't sound evil."

"I know. It sounds sort of amazing."

Finally she and he were on common ground. "It really does."

"He told me their impact on their environment was so low you had to hunt for their social centers, for the transportation routes, for any kind of land use for food or energy production. It sounded, frankly, like a paradise. But that was just one world. Maybe it's not so pastoral on others."

"But we don't know?"

"We shut them out, they shut us out. It's a textbook case of how not to learn about others." He sounded as disgusted with the shortsightedness of the Federation as she felt.

"Do we know anything about whether the augmentations are passed down? Or does each Illyrian undergo their own augmentation?"

"We don't know. And the person who knows is no doubt answering those kinds of questions in some holding facility. She was nice. And she's been here for years, doing important work. I really don't get it."

"I don't either. Thank you for this."

"I didn't help much. Ask me about some other species. I'll do much better." It could have been a come-on but his smile was uncomplicated and she saw pictures of what she assumed were his wife and kids on one of his shelves. "Your family?"

He turned and his smile grew into something truly sweet. "Yeah. I really miss them. I don't think I want to miss much more of their lives, you know?"

"That must be hard."

"Not for everyone. My brother has a kid he never sees. Not really his fault though. His ex-girlfriend wasn't thrilled he wanted to keep the stars. She was a blonde scientist too. You'd be just his type. Next time our ships are in the same place, I'll introduce you."

She resisted telling him blonde scientists weren't a "type." "I'm not really on the market right now."

"His loss. Someone else's gain."

"Yep." The guy you were insulting, she wanted to say but didn't. She was back to being mad at him. She stood before she could ask him why he thought calling out Spock's ears was a culturally sensitive thing for a fucking anthropologist to do. "Okay, well, bye."

And she hurried out.

She ran across Spock in the corridors and his expression visibly brightened when he saw her. "Hello there."

He looked like he wanted to push her into the nearest unoccupied space and have his way with her.

"Someone's got it bad." She grinned at him as they stood way too close and stared at each other like idiots. "Oh, screw it, is there a conference room or a jefferies tube we can—"

"This way." He took her arm and led her to where supplies apparently went to die.

"A storage closet? Way to show a girl a lux time."

He kissed her very gently, moving from her lips to the side of her neck. "I have been thinking of you all morning. I have been thinking of this." He was a professional at this point of getting her free from her jumpsuit and he proceeded to do just that.

"That door locks, right?"

He looked chagrined. "Computer, lock storage room door."

"Storage room door locked."

"Spock, forgetting the basics?" Chapel made a chiding sound but then moaned as he hiked her up onto him. "You really do have it bad."

"I really do."

##

Pike stood in the transporter room, waiting for his cousin to signal for beam over from the spaceport she was currently working on. She was late. As usual.

But if she was late, it was because someone needed just a little more time being convinced to see things her way. He'd never won an argument with her and he imagined most hadn't.

Finally, Kyle said, "She's ready sir."

"Energize, Chief."

A moment later she was on the padd, carrying a tote loaded with padds, looking more like his sister than his cousin. They'd spent summers together and everyone had thought they were siblings. "Welcome to my humble abode, Leanna."

"Humble, my ass." She grinned at Kyle. "Excuse my French."

"That wasn't French, ma'am." He was grinning like everyone did when they'd been exposed to Leanna's real smile. She had a fake one, too. It was designed to piss people off and she used it like a dagger.

"Come on." He led her into the corridor, nodding absently at the crew they passed. "Thank you for doing this."

"You asked. You never ask me for anything. Except over to dinner for something scrumptious. I'm always here for you, Christopher, you know that, right?"

"It's why I called." Should he tell her that always had a shelf life for him? What would that do to their relationship? Would it be kinder to know? It wasn't like he was in a totally safe line of work. Dying suddenly happened more often than he liked to think. She was too smart not to know it could happen to him.

But to know exactly when? No, no more sharing this. It was a burden he'd disbursed enough.

When they got to his ready room, she took one look at the food spread out on the table and began to laugh. "Did you make this?"

"Are you kidding? Do you think I'd let the mess feed my baby cousin?"

"I'm only four months younger." She pulled out padds and laid them out as she also loaded up a plate. Multitasking had never been a problem for her. "So, fill me in."

She'd had seconds and thirds by the time he finished with the background info.

"This is ridiculous. They couldn't tell her apart from a human and now they're arresting her?"

"Agreed." He realized his hands were trembling a little.

She noticed it too—she always noticed everything. "You really care about her?"

"I do. She's...the best first officer in the fleet."

"She's more than that to you. I can tell. But I'll need more than background to rip their case apart for you."

"I have more than background. I have a mad scientist and an angry Vulcan."

"Doesn't everyone?" She started to laugh. "Well, where are they. Tick, tick, tick, Christopher."

He commed down to Chapel, then ducked out to tell Spock to give the conn to Erica and come in.

"Spock, this is my cousin Leanna Sanderson. She can make grown men cry."

Spock seemed unsure how to respond and Pike realized that could be taken a lot of ways.

"In the courtroom, I mean."

"Ah, understood."

Leanna laughed and studied him. "You don't look angry. He told me he had a mad scientist and an angry Vulcan. You don't look angry."

"Looks can be deceiving."

"Excellent answer. I'd expect no less from a Vulcan." She turned when the door chimed and Chapel walked in. "And the mad scientist."

"Today I'm more a crazy data geek." She had a bag full of padds that nearly matched Leanna's.

"Oh, I can tell I'm going to like you. I'm Leanna."

"Christine." She started to pass out padds. "I talk fast sometimes. Just hit me if you want me to go back. I get kind of into my subject matter."

"An expert after my own heart." She met Chapel's eyes with a different kind of intensity than she conveyed with her smile, and Pike silently sighed. This was the other side of his cousin—she did love to flirt. "And where would you like me to hit you?"

Chapel didn't seem the least fazed. "If you're going to win—I might know their expert witness and want you to fully disembowel him—you can hit me wherever you want. Now, are you ready to be blown away by fantabulous data that no one in their right mind can argue with?"

"Very ready. In fact, I may want to have your babies."

Chapel was laughing but Spock blurted out, "She is taken." He looked as if he couldn't believe he'd said that.

Chapel also looked that way. Pike couldn't tell if she was pleased he'd said it or not.

What the hell kind of thing did these two have going anyway?

Leanna took it all in stride. "Okay then, Ms. Off the Market. Dazzle me with science."

As Chapel began to lay out a story in data, with Spock occasionally chiming in as if they'd been working together for years not months, and Leanna's smile grew more and more predatory, Pike finally relaxed.

He realized his hands were trembling again, and he put them in his lap and looked down, blinking hard several times, as something wonderful filled him.

Hope. True hope that had left him when Una had beamed away.

He'd never realized how much he needed her. Her, not his first officer.

Her.

"We're going to kill them, aren't we?" he asked Leanna a few hours later when Chapel and Spock finally ran out of steam and she quit asking questions and taking them on side journeys. He was exhausted but his hands were rock solid steady.

Leanna had only gotten more energized the more data she was presented with. "We're going to crucify them." She smiled up at Chapel in a way that wasn't at all flirtatious, then extended the look to Spock. Her real smile, the one that made people melt. "You're both amazing."

"We are a very good team." Spock looked at Chapel who said, "Yeah we are." She almost seemed about to cry.

"Thank you," Pike said, mainly to her. Una had been bugged by her for reasons he didn't understand. He'd make sure she knew how much she owed this woman.

"You ready to be my expert witness, Chapel?" Leanna asked as she leaned back with a smile.

"I worked for theirs."

"Not a problem for me."

"Ummm, I slept with theirs."

Pike was shocked at her honesty but Leanna shrugged. "You two aren't the ones on trial so what difference does it make? Believe me, I may have been a bit inappropriate with you when we started, but I will eviscerate anyone who tries to discredit you for having a consensual relationship with another adult."

"Okay then. But...Spock should be one too."

"Of course he'll be there. You two are a team. But I think you'll make the better witness on the stand. No offense, Spock."

"None taken. Vulcans can be off putting at times."

"And you're willing to say that?"

"I am half human."

Pike's mouth almost fell open. He'd never heard Spock admit that so easily to someone he'd just met unless under duress.

"Good to know." She looked at Pike. "Christopher, you'll round up an impressive cadre of character witnesses, yes?"

"Already done and ready to go when you say. I'm one, too, right?"

"Are you kidding? With those soulful eyes you'll have them eating out of your hands."

"It's a panel of officers, Leanna. Not a jury of civilians."

"Pffff." She turned to Chapel. "Am I wrong?"

"She's really not, sir."

He grinned. "You almost sounded Fleet there, Christine. Am I going to get to steal you away from Stanford?"

"After the trial? Going up against my former advisor? You'll probably have to."

"It'll be my pleasure." He stood up. "Who's hungry?" Leanna was always hungry—just one more reason he loved her. She'd been his guinea pig growing up when he'd thrown bizarre things together to see how they tasted.

"Please make me pasta anything—but Pasta Mama would make me so happy."

"I may have made pasta last night so I could do that for you."

She grinned, then looked at the other two. "Are you eating with us or do you need to go back to your room and have a celebratory screw?"

He closed his eyes and shook his head. "Leanna..."

"Am I wrong?"

He realized Spock and Chapel were looking as if they really would prefer to get the hell out of there. "I have no idea but I'm sure they've eaten. Haven't you."

"We have," Spock said and Chapel nodded. "But enjoy the pasta. It is one of my favorites of the dishes he makes."

"I will. And this isn't the last you'll see of me. After I've had a chance to talk to my client, I am going to dry-run you to death. You will absolutely hate me by the time this is over."

"I doubt that," Chapel said, clearly trying to be diplomatic as she headed for the door. "Those are for you. Keep the bag." Spock hurried after her.

Once they were gone, he turned to Leanna. "Really? Celebratory screw?"

"Did he or did he not say, with a very possessive tone, 'She is taken'?"

"Yeah."

"Am I wrong that they're together?"

"Nope."

"The defense rests."

##

Spock realized there had been a shift change while they were in with Chris and his cousin. He was both exhilarated from the exchange and tired.

"We need to talk," Christine said softly and he nodded and followed her onto the lift and to her quarters.

He reached for her as soon as the door closed, but she slipped away from him.

"You can't say things like that if it's not true." She blinked furiously, and he realized she was about to cry. "I'm taken but you're not. Or you are but not by me. It's not fucking fair, Spock. You made me hope, for a moment, and that was stupid. That was so stupid of me."

He reached for her again and she slapped his hand away. He realized she was reacting as much to exhaustion after so much preparation, as to what he'd said. So he did not try to touch her again, just moved to one of the chairs and sat.

She stared at him for a long time, but finally sat down on the bed and began to pull her boots off. "We never go to your quarters."

"I did not realize you wanted to. I thought you wanted us in a place free of T'Pring."

"So we can go there? We can fuck there and work there and sleep there?"

"Yes."

She seemed unsure what to say next.

"You are exhausted. But, if you want, we can go to my quarters now."

"I don't have anything there."

He worked extremely hard not to make any expression of frustration over the way she was emotionally zig-zagging. He had seen his mother do the same thing during arguments with his father. "You could bring things with you."

"But how many things? Enough to fit in my pocket? Half a shelf? A drawer? How much room do I get in your life, Spock? What does a fucking hiatus allow?"

"How much room do you want?"

"All the room. I want all the goddamned room." She seemed about to explode.

Until he calmly said, "Fine. I will request formal dissolution of the bond from T'Pring."

"What?"

"I believe your hearing is unimpaired." He stood. "May I join you on the bed?"

She nodded quickly so he moved to sit next to her, their shoulders pressed tightly together.

"It was exhilarating working together."

"It was. Roger always made me feel subordinate. Even when it was my lead. Even when I was right and he was wrong. He never...respected me."

"I do."

"I know. I do you too." She turned to him with an expression of frustration. "I'm not making sense. I'm so tired."

"As I said." He pulled her to him. "Do you want me to join you in the bed or do you want me to go communicate my wishes to T'Pring?"

She did not answer quickly. He waited with a patience he had learned well on Vulcan.

Finally, she said, "Join me. We're both in a heightened state. Tomorrow, if you still feel like you want to end things with her, do it then. When you're sure."

"I am sure now."

"Humor me."

"As you wish." He stood and eased her up. "Go, get ready for bed."

She turned and wrapped her arms around him. "I really want to be off the market. I want to be yours and I want you to be mine."

He kissed her gently, resisting the urge to take them further—she was crashing physically; she had put so much into this project.

For a woman she did not like.

It was when he realized he loved her. Not when he'd reacted possessively before the presentation. But during it, when she'd laid out their work so logically, so flawlessly.

So brilliantly.

She was human and she was everything he admired and wanted. "Go, we both need sleep."

She spent little time in the bathroom, her make-up only half removed when they switched places.

She was asleep when he was finished brushing his teeth. He slid into bed and drew her closer. She moved against him, her arm snaking across his side even in sleep.

"You are mine," he whispered. "And I am yours." He did not need to wait until tomorrow to know what he wanted. But she had asked him to, and he would honor that request.

And once he had talked to T'Pring, he would begin making space for her in his quarters. In his life.

He closed his eyes and gave himself over fully to the pillow, to the bed.

And to her.

FIN