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.
New Friends, Old Enmity
by Djinn
Part 1
Chapel was in her office, reading
comments in the Stanford science forum on the paper she'd published, derived
from all the research she'd done for Number One's court case. Spock was also
credited as an author and she smiled seeing their names together.
She was surprised Roger still
let her have access to the forum. He knew she was posting; he'd even commented
on some of her posts. Totally professional. Supportive as ever.
He was making this so easy.
She hadn't expected that and felt bad about thinking he'd be anything but nice.
Then again, him holding on
too loosely had always been the problem, not possessiveness. So maybe her
leaving played right into his plans. Opened up a spot in his bed for new blood.
"Ensign Chapel?" A
crewman holding a small package stood at her door.
She was having so much
trouble getting used to being called that. "Here."
"Care package,
maybe?" His grin was sweet, too sweet, so she gave him her most
professional smile back.
"Are you going to give
it to me?"
"Oh, yes, sorry." He
handed it over but didn't seem in a hurry to leave. "There's a party,
lower decks, if you want to come with me...?"
"I'm with someone."
"Oh. Too bad." He
shrugged and walked out.
M'Benga came in and laughed. "Another
admirer?"
"Yeah, I have to beat 'em off with a stick." She held up the package. "Delivery
from"—she glanced at the label—"from Stanford."
"You want privacy?"
"No, it's okay." She
opened the package and found a small box. When she opened it, there was a pair
of earrings, sterling. Exquisitely carved corn cobs.
M'Benga frowned slightly. "I
was not aware you were such a fan of corn."
"I'm not. I pretty much
hate it. Other than in cornbread or tortillas."
"That's what I thought.
And chips for my salsa."
"Yes, that too." He
made the best salsa. "We need to throw a party soon so you can make more."
"Yes, we do." He
smiled in the way that said he wasn't going to forget her birthday which was in,
oh, three days.
She held up the earrings.
"Once upon a time I knew someone who was very closed off when it came to
speaking about emotions. One day we were at a conference in Virginia, and we
rented a flitter and just roamed the area. We parked near a just harvested corn
field and he opened the windows and took my hand and told me to close my eyes
and listen. The sound of the wind rustling through the dried corn stalks was
the most amazing thing I'd ever heard."
She slipped the earrings on. "After
that, while we were still flitting around, he told me things, about his childhood,
about how he felt growing up, how alone. Things that explained a lot. I'd never
felt closer to him."
"And do you need to call
this person and thank them for this lovely gift?"
She met his eyes and saw deep
understanding there. "I do."
"I will close the door
when I leave."
As soon as he did, she keyed
in the code for Roger. He answered right away. His office was dark with just
the desk lamp on and the glow from his terminal. "Happy early birthday."
He smiled. "And you're wearing them."
"I shouldn't. You shouldn't
be giving me birthday gifts." But they felt right in her ears.
"I actually bought them
before you left. Saw them and thought they'd be perfect. I know I should
probably have resisted the urge to send them to you and just given them to someone
else, but, well, corn earrings are a bit of a niche gift." He laughed gently.
"Please say you'll keep them."
"I'll keep them. I may
have to explain them."
"How will you explain
them?" His voice was tender, the tone she loved.
"That they remind me of
a special time."
"Yes. They do. I won't
lie, Christine. I miss you." He held up a hand quickly. "Don't say it
back. I know you're in love. And with a good man."
"Thank you."
"A good man who put in a
good word for me. I'm headed for Vulcan soon on sabbatical to do research into
this syndrome he told us about. Should be new and exciting."
At least he wouldn't be picking
up impressionable young grad students there. She bit back a sigh that
threatened to be bitter. "I'm glad. If anyone can help them, it'll be
you."
"Your faith in me will buttress
me in times of doubt."
"Bullshit. You have no
times of doubt. You're the most egotistical man I know." She was laughing
as she said it and was glad to see he laughed too.
"Guilty as charged. But
it is still nice to know that you believe in me."
"I'll always believe in
you, Roger. You were the best mentor I could have ever asked for. The best
friend as I found my footing." The best partner she'd ever known up to
then—other than the screwing other people part.
"Well, I have to go. I
know you'll probably put those in a drawer and forget them as soon as we hang
up, but I really do appreciate you wearing them for this call. The time we spent
that day—I don't open up to just anyone."
"I know. And I love
them. They may go in a drawer, but so do all my earrings. They'll be in the rotation."
Shit, were they even regulation? She'd need to look that up. Oh well, she could
wear them when she was off duty if they weren't.
He looked away, to something
off screen. "Yes, I'm coming, Brownie." He looked back at the screen.
"I really have to go. Trying to wrap things up before I head off to
Vulcan."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome. And
your paper was amazing. I'm jealous it didn't come out from the lab instead of Starfleet."
"It would have required me
to jump through a lot less hoops if it had come out from Stanford." She
rolled her eyes at bureaucracy, and he laughed and then signed off.
She played with the earrings
for a moment, letting them hit her neck as she moved her head. Then she looked up
the regs. Yep, no dangling earrings. Made sense from a safety standpoint.
She took them off and put
them back in the box.
So sweet of him to think of
her. Even if he shouldn't have.
##
Spock moved one of his knights
and heard La'an breathe out in what he had come to learn was exasperation. He assessed
his play and realized it was both ill conceived and
doomed to put him in check in two moves. "I apologize. I am distracted.
May we talk instead of play?"
"Honestly, we usually
don't talk. It'll be a little weird."
"I agree." He found
they often agreed on such things. "But I need your advice."
She pushed the chess board to
the side and said, "Ask away."
"Christine's birthday is
in three days. I know it is important to humans. Vulcans do not celebrate such
things. Christine has indicated it will be fine if I do not commemorate the date
of her birth."
"Pfff.
Christine is lying to you."
"Indeed?" She had
seemed sincere when she told him this but had been across the room, as if she
did not want him touching her—to find out the truth perhaps? The more he'd
thought about it, the more he worried he might be misunderstanding her meaning.
Which was why he was so distracted.
"Don't be daft, Spock.
You're dating a vital, beautiful woman that other people will be giving gifts
to. Possibly very nice gifts. Do you really want to be the sole holdout? It may
be okay the first time, or even the second, but it's going to start to
grate."
"But it is not my
way." And as far as he knew his father did not give his mother birthday gifts.
Michael used to tell him sometimes she missed birthdays. "Should I change
my natural behavior this way for her?"
"Look, sleeping in a
room as hot as yours is not her natural behavior. Or mine." Not that she
was sleeping in it, but she was in there a lot just hanging out. And it was
sweltering at times.
"I have lowered the
temperature. For her."
"But not as much as she
might like and probably more than you like. Because you're both compromising. I'm
not criticizing. It's what people do—but no one is every really happy with a
compromise. And that's what she's trying to do here, give you an out, and then
she'll celebrate with others, but it will not be good for you in the long run."
She took a long pull from her beer. "I suppose you want help picking
something out?"
He enjoyed how she seemed
able to predict where he would take the conversation next. "I would like
a...sanity check on an idea."
"You know your whole
thing with her started with you asking for relationship advice. This better not
be leading to romance for us."
He simply glared at her. It appeared
to have little effect. So he tried to look helpless—or as helpless as a Vulcan
could. "I would be indebted to you."
"Fine."
"I do have an idea. I do
not know if it will be suitable."
"Roses? Chocolates? Something
else so mainstream it's boring?" She made a face that told him exactly what
she thought of such things.
"I had initially considered
peonies. She loves them."
"Save them for
Valentine's Day when everyone is ordering roses. You'll get big points."
"I must also observe
that day?" He felt a pang of dismay. At least his mother insisted on Christmas
and planned time on Earth to facilitate her need for holiday cheer. He knew how
that holiday worked—even his father was expected to give gifts to all in the
family.
"And there's nurse
appreciation day." She was clearly trying not to laugh.
"I do not believe
that."
"There actually is. But
you don't have to observe it with a present—maybe just breakfast in bed." She
smiled. "Although I might buy her something really nice. Get a leg up on
our competition over her."
"Of course." He
found it best to ignore her when she spoke of this alleged competition. Would
he allow someone he considered himself to be in competition with to kiss his woman?
"Do you wish to hear my idea?"
"Honestly, no, but I've
agreed to help so I guess I have to."
He understood the sentiment. He
often did not wish to do the things that were required of him as a friend or
colleague. The small talk and niceties and other such things. "Do you
remember I walked out of Hemmer's memorial?"
"Yes."
"I was..." How much
of this did he wish to share with her? How much did he trust her? He studied
her and saw nothing but curiosity. "I was overcome. Emotionally. From the
mission, from what I allowed myself to feel and do to help defeat the Gorn, from the losses. I was struggling."
"I didn't notice."
"No one did. Except Christine.
She knew something was wrong. She followed me. I was in the corridor. I slammed
my fist into a panel in rage."
"I knew I heard something
being hit." She gave him a surprisingly supportive smile. "I saw that
panel. Hell of a punch."
It had taken them a week to
replace the panel. He had to be reminded of it as he walked by, but a few days
in, the reminder became less unpleasant, more about what had happened after hitting
the panel than during. More about Christine. "I saved it. When they replaced
it, I asked for it."
"As a reminder not to
lose your temper?"
"As a reminder of when
things changed for Christine and me."
Her expression changed,
became very soft. "That's actually so sweet."
"You and I both think
that. But we are very much alike. And she does not have the same temperament we
do."
"You're right. Is there
more to it than just a beat-up panel?"
"I framed it. She had
expressed an admiration for hammered copper by a particular artist so I
commissioned a frame in that material."
"That's also very sweet.
And I'm sure people not like us will also think so."
"Excellent. I was unsure
when I was going to give it to her. I planned it not as a gift as such, but
something for our shared space. Something that was not hers or mine, but
ours."
"Say it just like that.
Only make sure she knows it's for her birthday, not just some general housewarming
thing." She studied him. "There's a romantic buried under all that
logic."
"I think not." He
tried to make his features as stern as possible. "May I ask what you are
getting her?"
"A pair of sunglasses
she saw someone wearing on that last spaceport we stopped at. I actually
tracked the woman through the station and asked her where she got them. She
seemed unnerved by my intensity."
"You were hunting. As
you learned from the Gorn."
"Well, that's terrifying.
Anyway, even knowing what brand they were, I had to search for them. They were
not easy to find."
"She will truly appreciate
the effort."
"And she can wear them
in Carmel. I heard your parents have a house there."
"Yes, we will be
visiting them while the ship is in for refits." Refits that were a result
of the Enterprise's two interactions with the Gorn.
Refits such as updated containment, a variety of shield upgrades and other suggestions
La'an and he had worked on together.
They had worked together extremely
well once she stopped baiting him and he stopped making his explanations deliberately
over complicated.
"Sounds fun." She suddenly
seemed to be looking for something to do. She began to pull the chess board
back in place, but he stopped her.
"Do you have someplace
to go during leave?"
"Yeah, of course."
He imagined she might have
spent leave with Una, if Una were not very busy with the captain. "Carmel
is quite pleasant."
"I'm sure it is. Thanks
for the update."
He realized he had not
included the part relevant to her in his statement. A Vulcan would have understood
that if such a statement was issued, there must be a way it connected to them. "La'an,
I am inviting you to come with us."
"Shouldn't you ask Christine?"
"As she is the one who
persists in kissing you, I find it unlikely she will object." Although a
good deal of the time it was La'an kissing Christine. At least at the start.
"Spock, I don't want to
intrude on your family time."
He waited until she finally
stopped looking everywhere but at him to say, very softly, "I have not spoken
to my father, other than when absolutely necessary, for years. I have no idea
how he has taken the news of the dissolution of my engagement, or the idea I am
now romantically involved with a human."
"He married a human."
"This logic may be lost
on him. We do not—we do not..." How to explain what he and his father did
not do? Connect. Care about each other. Respect each other?
"Hey." Her hand was
on his, which he had not realized he was using to clench the side of the table.
"So, you need a buffer? Someone besides your new human girlfriend who might
also be the subject of his ire?"
"Precisely."
"So I could be useful,
not just in the way."
"You will not be in the
way." He briefly laid his other hand over hers, to show his appreciation
for her comprehension, and then eased his hands away. "It is a large
house. There are rooms upon rooms. It is often used for offsite events for visiting
Vulcans. We may not even see my parents if we are very successful."
"Fine, you sold me. But make
sure Christine is okay with this."
"La'an, while I may not
understand the depth of her feeling for you or vice versa, I do know she cares
about you. She would not want you to be alone when you could be with us. And
you have proven that if we need to escape quickly, you can lead us as we fight
our way out."
She laughed but then made a
perplexed face. "Was that a joke?"
"Sadly, yes. I have been
with humans far too long."
"I'll say." She
gestured toward the board. "Now can we resume? And can you possibly play
like the Spock I know, not some lovesick puppy?"
"Yes. And I appreciate
your help."
"What are rivals for?"
She grinned at him. "Or are we friends?"
"To be honest, I am
unsure."
"Me, too. That rarely
happens."
"For me either."
"Just one more thing we
agree on, Spock."
##
Ortegas sat at the bar,
watching La'an and Spock apparently holding hands. "The crew will have a
field day with this," she muttered.
"I'm so confused by that,"
the captain said as he and Una slid into stools beside her—shit, where did they
come from? Were they trying to be super stealthy? Or had she just had too much
to drink to hear them? "Care to explain it to us, Erica? I thought he was
with Christine."
"He is. La'an's just his side piece." She couldn't keep a
straight face and began to laugh. "The looks on your faces is really
fun." She shrugged. "The three of them are friends."
Una stared down at the booth Spock
and La'an always used when it was free—and if they showed up and it wasn't free,
whoever was in it almost always moved. They never seemed to notice. "Three?
I mean I knew Chapel was close with both her and Spock, but didn't realize La'an
and Spock were—she really didn't like him."
"Pretty sure she still
doesn't," Ortegas said with a laugh. "They don't tend to smile at
each other."
"Well, neither of them
really do at any time." Pike looked at her almost empty drink and when the
bartender came down their way, ordered her a refill along with their drinks. "Big
plans for leave?"
"Family time. My cousin's
quinceañera. She's one of my favorite cousins so I'm
actually excited that I'll be home for it. So, thank you, sir, for this leave."
"Thank the Gorn." His face clouded as it always did when he
talked about them.
"Is it bad and wrong to
say I'm glad I wasn't there?"
"No, it's smart."
He looked over at Una. "Super strength might have come in handy,
though."
"You had Spock. He's as
strong as I am. Or so Chapel's testimony in court said."
Jesus, after all Christine did
for her, couldn't Number One call her by her first name? Then again, no way Ortegas
was going to say that. Number One was terrifying when she was disapproving.
"You guys going
somewhere fun?"
"Chris's house in Montana.
Snow. Horseback riding. More snow. More horseback riding."
"Is horseback riding a wacky
way of saying sex?" Okay, she really did need to take an antitox.
But Number One actually
laughed. "No, he has horses."
"Also it's summer,"
Pike said. "So no snow."
"I was looking forward
to the break from the horses." She shook her head and made a face.
"Horses don't like me."
"There's fly
fishing."
Ortegas saw Number One make
another face at that thought and said, "You sure you don't want to come to
my cousin's quinceañera?"
"It's sounding better
and better." But the look she gave the captain was smoldering. Ortegas
would bet money they might not ever leave the house to get to the horses. Then
again the captain did tend to get all misty eyed when he talked about riding. Number
One was probably screwed.
She saw Christine walk in,
and she hurried by La'an and Spock as if they had communicable diseases.
"She not talking to
them?" Pike asked.
"Oh, no, she just
doesn't want to be trapped watching them play chess all night." She patted
the stool next to her. "Pull up a chair, Ensign."
"You love to pull rank."
But Christine sat next to her and waved the bartender off.
"You're not drinking?"
"No, I've got to get up early
and do this panel thing about the paper I wrote." Her tone sounded "been
there done that" but the expression on her face showed she was excited.
Having listened to the dry
runs more times than she could count, Erica was glad someone else was going to hear
her talk about it. "Congratulations." She noticed Christine was wearing
new earrings. "Are those corn cobs?"
"Yep."
There was a long moment of
silence from the three of them, and Ortegas thought they were all trying to
figure out the significance.
Pike was the first one to
bite. "Don't you hate corn? I made corn chowder and you passed."
"You keep track?" Christine
looked a little horrified.
"Oh, honey," Number
One said, "He keeps track of everything."
"I didn't mean to offend,
sir. I like it in cornbread—but ground up; don't put corn kernels in the cornbread.
And tortillas and chips."
"Then why did you buy
earrings that depict a food you don't like?" Number One sounded sincerely
confused.
"They were a gift."
"From someone who loves
corn?" Pike asked.
"Can we just focus on
the silver and craftsmanship and not on the corn part?" Christine sounded
cranky; Ortegas bet those earrings were not going to be worn again. At least
not around anyone who knew how much she hated corn.
Which was anyone who'd eaten
with her when corn was on the menu.
"They're very pretty,"
Number One said, and Ortegas knew she was trying to sound supportive instead of
condescending.
Unfortunately, she totally
failed.
"So," Ortegas said,
trying to steer them to safer ground. "La'an and Spock were holding hands
earlier. Several of the gossip vine's biggest grapes were in visual range. Might
want to counsel them on resisting." She was grinning.
"I wonder if something's
wrong." Christine immediately got up and went to their booth.
"That didn't seem like jealousy."
Pike took a long sip of his whiskey. "I'm even more confused."
Christine leaned in and
hugged La'an and then came back to her stool. "La'an's
coming to Spock's parents with us."
They all just stared at her.
"What?" She rolled
her eyes. "It's going to be weird because they're kind of estranged."
"And adding a third
person is going to negate that weirdness so much." Ortegas laughed as she
imagined.
"She'll be in her own
room."
"Knowing Vulcans, so
will you," Number One said.
"You think so? He didn't
say that. I want to room with her if I can't sleep with him."
"Honey, you aren't
making this better." Ortegas put her hands on either side of Christine's
face and said, "Repeat after me: Everything I say makes it sound like I'm
involved with both of them."
"Repeat after me: Fu—"
She only stopped talking because Ortegas put her hand over her mouth.
"We're going to go play pool
now. The table just opened up. Have a nice evening, sirs."
Christine pulled away as soon
as they were out of earshot of the bar. "What the hell, Er?"
"You don't tell a
superior officer to fuck off right in front of the two ranking officers on the
ship."
"I'm not on duty."
"Nevertheless."
"You're being serious right
now? What else can't I do?"
"Hey, take it down a notch.
I'm not saying you're not doing it right. I just didn't want you to make a bad
impression."
"So, you all can grill me
on my personal relationships, but I can't tell you to fuck off when you do?"
"We were joking."
"Were you? Were they? I
can't even tell anymore. Who cares if I swear? Everyone swears. Is this some of
the newbie hazing crap you did to Uhura because I didn't study for years to be harassed
and bullied."
"Christine, calm down."
She tried to read her friend's face. "Is this about the earrings? I'm
sorry we teased you."
"They're special."
"Okay. I'm sorry."
Christine looked around for a
moment like she was trying to make sure she knew where the exit was. "Don't
you ever feel like you just want to get off this thing?"
This thing? Did she mean the
ship? The ship that Erica lovingly flew? "Uh, no. It's why I'm in Starfleet."
She eased Christine into a nearby booth and slid in next to her. "Everyone
goes a little stir crazy at first."
"But that's the thing. I
didn't feel that way. Not until I suddenly became an ensign." She looked
away. "What if this isn't what I want to do?"
"Oh my God, Nyota found
her path so now you have to take her place with career misgivings?"
"I'm not Nyota."
"Yeah, I've noticed. She
actually spends more time with me than you do these days. And she's on Earth."
Christine looked more hurt
than pissed. "Let me out."
"I'm sorry." But
was she? What the hell was wrong with Christine? Nothing had changed except... "The
earrings are new, aren't they?"
"Yeah. From someone
special."
No way. Not that dick of a
professor who found his bedmates from the eager young faces looking back at him
in class? "A birthday gift?"
It took her a long time to
nod.
"Made you homesick for Stanford,
huh?"
It took her an even longer
time to nod again.
"And him?"
"I just...the gift brought
back memories. Good ones."
"As opposed to the ones
where you found other people in your bed?" She took Christine's hand
gently in hers. "Spock's never going to do that to you. Unless you want
him to with La'an."
She seemed to take a deep
breath and let it out. "You're right. I'm sorry. This is...it's a big
change. I guess I'm not dealing with it as well as I thought."
"You're also commitment
phobic and living with a Vulcan. I imagine change has been happening even in
basic living."
She nodded.
"Then relax. It's just
growing pains. They'll pass." She eased out of the booth and let Christine
get up. "And I'm sorry about teasing you about the earrings. I won't
again."
"But others will. Guess
these are going in the drawer, after all." She seemed to stand straighter
and shake the experience off, but her expression didn't lighten. "I've got
to go study my material. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Christine about what I
said..."
"No, you were right. I
do spend more time with Spock than you now."
And La'an, Ortegas wanted to
say but managed not to. She'd done enough damage tonight.
"Hug?" Christine asked,
as if Ortegas wouldn't want to give her one.
She pulled her in for a
tight, if quick, squeeze. "Knock 'em dead,
okay?"
Christine nodded and then
left. Really fast.
She sat back down in the
booth and tried not to feel like a complete jerk. She'd just been being
herself. Nothing had changed, had it?
##
T'Pring keyed in a comm code
she had to look up, and it went to a recording. "You've reached Christine Chapel..."
"Please call me at your
earliest convenience." Would she know who it was. Did Starfleet communication
devices show the name of the caller? "This is T'Pring." She hung up.
She had to give her credit. She
called right back. "What can I do for you?"
"So formal for one who
stole my mate."
Christine did not react at
all. Most impressive. She might be Vulcan. "It's been a shitty day, T'Pring.
What do you want?"
"I need information on Angel.
Transporter scans. Photos taken during the incident of them and their
associates. Any background information gleaned that you can share."
"Ask the Vulcan authorities
for that. Oh wait, you'd have to admit you're hiding Spock's brother in plain
sight."
"It is not plain sight.
We are on a lunar outpost in another system."
"Same difference." Christine
sounded angry.
T'Pring did not care. "You
know how much trouble I could make for Spock and his family."
"I also know you're
hurting and would regret that."
"Do not assume you
understand me simply because we interacted on a superficial level. You do not
know me, Christine." She tried to load threat under the logic she was
projecting.
Christine met her eyes, her
own very angry. "Right back at you, sister." When T'Pring didn't
respond, the fight seemed to go out of her. "Fine, I'll send you what I
have access to, but I'm not stealing anything I don't have a right to see and
share. And I'm logging that I sent you the info—I really don't need my Starfleet
career to begin with a security violation."
"So you have joined Starfleet?"
"Do you care? No, you
damn well don't. Why do you even need it? You making a dart board with Angel's
face on it?"
"If I were to make such
a juvenile thing, it would have your face on it, Christine." She waited
for the hit to show on her rival's face but it did not. She must indeed be having
a very bad day. "Clearly Angel was in contact with Sybok. I need to know
how, but to do that I need their information and image."
"That makes sense."
She looked down. "Okay, sounds good."
"What is wrong with you?"
Christine looked up angrily.
"Like you care."
"You are right. I do not.
But you have Spock. Can you not talk to him? Or perhaps you two are not prospering
as you hoped."
"Go to hell, T'Pring.
I'll send you the info when I have the time." The line went dead.
She had clearly hit a nerve.
Excellent.
Except it did not matter. Spock
would do everything in his power to make this woman happy. He had chosen her
and rejected a life on Vulcan.
Let them deal with their
problems; T'Pring had other things to do. Such as showing this information, once
Christine actually sent it, to the rather unsavory detective she had hired.
Discreet inquiries showed him to be both effective and from a species that
considered it dishonorable to work for two people at once. She could not rule out
the possibility that Angel had eyes everywhere but could make sure the person
she was hiring to capture Angel and hold them in a place of T'Pring's choosing
would be working only for her.
She could not go after Sybok
directly. But she could do something to stop information getting in to him. And
have leverage if she decided he could be of use in setting the havoc he had created
into order.
It would have been more
satisfying to poison his food and watch him die slowly in agony, but she was
not a savage and the poison would no doubt be traced to her. She did not doubt
he had some provisions in place in case he met with any accidents now that she
knew his treachery.
She had debated contacting Spock,
telling him why what had transpired occurred. But she did not think he was ready
to hear that yet.
A text message appeared on
her terminal. It was from Stonn. "Dinner?"
"I am busy tonight with
work." It was not a lie. If Christine ever sent the info, she would indeed
be busy.
She was managing her
relationship with Stonn carefully. It was unfair to him, to keep him dangling
this way, but she had to.
If there was a way to get Spock
back, to undo what Sybok had done, she would do it.
She loved him. She always had
and she always would. And deep down, once he got over being lured by white-blond
hair and human effervescence, he would realize he loved her too.
##
Pike heard his chime go off
and said, "Come." He was expecting Christine and it was her.
Only not the Christine he'd
gotten used to. The take-no-prisoners, cocky-as-shit woman he'd wanted on his
ship. She'd been so confident until he slapped a rank on her.
He rose and motioned her to
the couch and took the comfy chair. He had coffee laid out and croissants.
She laughed as she took in
the spread. "You're the best captain I will ever have."
"Food wise, that's for
sure." He liked to think he'd be the best other ways too, but he'd learned
humility in his trip to the future. Sometimes his way wasn't the best. Even if
it was often the kindest.
He waited to talk until she
fixed her coffee—lightener and an ungodly amount of sugar. No wonder she was so
high energy.
He sipped his as she ignored
the croissants. Normally she ate without any self-consciousness. "How are
you settling in?"
"Well, I've been here a
while. Sir." Her voice held a prickliness he didn't remember.
"Okay, I'm going to say
two things. The first is that I'm sorry about yesterday in the lounge. Your
relationships are your business unless they hurt someone or buck regs. And obviously
I am in no position to get on anyone about relationship in their chain of
command. Which you're not doing. Whatever relationships you have." Well,
this was going great.
But she actually laughed,
thank God. "I'm sorry I swore."
"You can swear. Shit,
fuck, shit. There—I've set precedent. I'd prefer you didn't do it while working
but we were off duty, and I'm not sure why Erica thought she needed to
intervene there."
"Oh."
"Except that maybe you
were extra frustrated, and I don't think it was about that. Which leads me to
point two. I need you to settle the hell down."
"Sir?"
"You're overcompensating.
You're second-guessing. You're acting like I gave you a personality change, not
a commission."
She just stared down into her
coffee.
"Speak your mind, Chapel."
She'd never needed an invitation for that before.
"I'm doing everything
wrong, sir." But she finally reached for the croissant and he knew he was
getting through to her.
He helped himself to one too
and said, "How so?"
"I was in the corridors
and this crewman—who I knew was new to the service because I'd just checked her
in a few days earlier—saluted me and I didn't think I was supposed to salute
back, but she looked so earnest and scared that I did it. And then once she'd
passed, this officer—I have no idea who because he just pushed past me as he
said it—made a crack about how if we saluted onboard, we'd all have a bad case
of tennis elbow. Which by the way it would not cause." She met his eyes.
"I was just trying to be kind."
"And that other guy
wasn't, clearly." He sighed. "Okay that's one incident. And for the
record, I don't actually think it's a bad thing to be kind. But maybe next time
take the crewman aside and gently explain she doesn't have to salute while on board.
What else isn't working?"
"There's a class for
civilian transfer and crewman who've made field promotions to officer. The instructor
is constantly on my case."
He knew the instructor. Not
the brightest guy. Connected to an admiral so no one could get rid of him—that this
kind of shit still happened bugged the hell out of Pike. But the class wasn't
that long and most people in that class had either been in Starfleet long
enough to know how most of it worked or were extremely fast studies who would
pick it up with or without a stupid "Officers for Dummies" class.
"Give me some examples."
He made his voice as gentle as possible so she'd know he wasn't doubting her word.
"He was having us come
up with scenarios for this first-contact case study. It was one of those 'work
in teams until I make you pick a spokesperson to list out the same things every
other team will come up with.'"
"I hate those."
"Me too. But you know, I'm
taking this seriously. So I sat with my team, and we came up with the normal
shit, and then two of us started bouncing ideas off each other, and we ended up
with a way longer list than any other team. But the other people on our team
were getting super uncomfortable with the way the instructor kept coming over
and telling us to keep it in the realm of possibility. So they edited down the
list to include just a few of our ideas." She was a little flushed and he
knew it was in anger, not embarrassment. "How were we wrong? We weren't
blue-skying the assignment. We could make everything we put on that list work.
And so could everyone else if they'd thought about it for a second."
"I'm going to stop you
right there. And not because you're wrong. Because what you just said is
crucial. They could think about it for a second, or five or thirty or five
hundred, but they aren't going to catch up with the two of you. Not unless you
wait." He leaned toward her. "It's hell being the smartest people—or even
person—in the room, Christine. I've seen you work and I know you make
connections and see possibilities so much faster than others. And if you were
working alone or only with people whose brain works like yours does, it'd be
fine. But if you keep running, your colleagues on board will never catch up. Slow
down and let them make the journey with you or at least catch up on their own
or they'll never, ever follow you. And while they're catching up, you can spin
scenarios in your head and have time to rule out all the shitty ones by the
time they're ready."
"How long do I wait for
them to catch up? To be fair, sir, I'm used to being in a situation where
everyone is going the same speed."
"I don't believe that.
Even in as rarified air as that Stanford lab, there were the stars and the
not-so-glistening ones. And I bet everyone had their niche, that they knew better
than anyone. It's that way on the ship, too. This class is bringing people
together in a way that doesn't let you see why they're on this ship in the
first place—how truly good they are."
She nodded grudgingly as she
picked up her coffee and finished it.
He filled it up for her again
and watched her go through her "sugar with some coffee" routine. "So
far I've heard nothing from you about how your actual job has changed since you
converted. Has it?"
"No, it's the same. It's
really good. Like always."
"Exactly. This class is
designed for one thing: to teach you how to be Starfleet in ten easy
steps." He held up a hand when she objected. "I get it. You don't want
that. You want to be the best at everything. You want to do things right and know
you're doing them right."
"I do, sir. I hate
feeling this way. So off balance. If I do something wrong, I want it to be on
purpose."
He laughed and said, "I
do not doubt that, Christine."
He bought time by taking a
bite from his croissant—the food wasn't just a friendly touch, it could also be
strategic. He didn't think Una had made any special attempt to get to know Christine
despite how hard she'd worked for her trial. She'd eased up on the snotty
comments she'd occasionally dropped in private before she was arrested. But
he'd expected them to find more common ground.
Well, now they could. "I
want you to stay in the class. Learn what you can there. But I'm assigning you
a mentor. One-on-one work. Get you ship-shape and Bristol fashion in no time. There
is no one on Enterprise who knows more about being an officer than Lieutenant
Commander Chin-Riley."
He expected a look of surprise,
maybe even dismay, but instead she seemed excited.
"So, you like that
idea?"
"Yes. She won't let me
get away with anything. And she's smart—she'll keep up."
"She definitely will.
But I wouldn't assume you're going to be the one in the lead when you're working
with her. Maybe you'll be the one needing to run faster?"
She grinned at him. "It
will be interesting to see, won't it? Thank you, sir." Finally, he saw a
spark of the woman who'd so impressed him. And the woman he really, really liked
as she held up the croissant and said, "These are so damn good. Thank you.
For them and the talk. And I'm sorry. I should have come to you. But I didn't
think it would look good—so soon after converting."
"You always can. But now
you've got Una too. And La'an also understands how things work. As does Spock.
Use them." He left out Ortegas because he thought she was too close to
give completely objective advice on this, which was ironic given Chapel's relationship
with the other two. Erica tended to want to protect—to mother-hen—her friends. She'd
shown that last night, trying to save Chapel when she hadn't needed saving.
It wasn't a failing. She'd be
the best friend Chapel could want. And she'd mentored many officers to great
success. But friends weren't always the best one to coach friends.
##
M'Benga sat in his office, finalizing
Christine's birthday party order for tomorrow. It wasn't a surprise. Christine knew
when her birthday was and he'd never understood the idea that somehow this was
a surprise to anyone. He remembered everyone's birthday, and if they cared
about such things—and he found that out on their entrance interview—he threw
them the kind of party they wanted.
He'd worked once in a unit
where the parties had been haphazard. People with more friends having better
odds of someone remembering. It had hurt those who'd been left out. Once he'd
become a leader, he'd made it a point that everyone would get their day celebrated
if they wanted, but there would be no additional private parties held in
sickbay. On personal time, fine. While working, no.
So far it had worked for him.
He sent the order on to catering and checked the progress of the salsas he was
making. All her favorites.
"Hey, Doc, you better
not be out-cooking me," he heard from the door.
"Come in, Chris."
He held up his hand as he approached. "But do not offer suggestions on how
to make my masterpieces better. You know salsa is my thing."
"I do know that. I use your
recipes, generally." He leaned in conspiratorially. "Can I have some?"
"No, it is for Christine.
Who is so much more relaxed suddenly at the thought of working with Una. She
was excited enough to tell me." He sighed. "I have been worried about
her. But was afraid to talk to her. Medical is so...apart from the rest of the
ship."
"And she wants to be a
part of." He grinned. "I get it, Joseph. And somehow I bet she won't
always be medical. Her curiosity may lead her on some interesting paths."
"Agreed." He turned
away from the salsa. "What can I do for you?"
"Come to Montana."
He tried to determine if this
was some Pike euphemism or if he meant it literally. "What is in Montana?"
"The house I bought last
year on a whim, my horses, an amazing river for fly fishing."
"Oh, the last is so
tempting. But Chris, you and Una are new. Wouldn't you like to be alone?"
"We won't be. Leanna's
coming too. She asked if you'd be there."
"Oh?"
"Yep. And I don't think
it was because she wanted to brief you on how the new meds are working. If
you're got something else going with someone else for leave, I get it. But I
like the idea of her spending time with someone who understands her status."
M'Benga could imagine he
would. Chris had found that with Una. He was a loving and generous man. He'd
want the same thing for his cousin.
And M'Benga had no plans—even
if he was not sure he and Leanna would ever be more than friends, this sounded like
a nice way to spend his first leave without Rukiya. "So the fishing is
good?"
"The fishing is world famous.
Come on, Joseph. Say yes."
"Yes." He suddenly
felt settled. He had been unsure where to go. He knew he would probably have
chosen somewhere he could fish, but he'd been feeling...bereft at the idea of
going it alone. Now, now his heart felt full. "Yes, this sounds fun."
"Yes, it does. Bring
your appetite."
"I always do, Chris."
##
Una cuddled into Chris, enjoying
his darkened quarters, the fire crackling, the dinner he'd made leaving her pleasantly
drowsy.
She'd been on edge for so
long, on guard for too long. So sure that the end of the road for her career
was around every corner. It had been an exhausting way to live. And a lonely
one.
She was happy to hear Joseph
would be joining them. It had been her idea to invite Leanna. She would have anyway,
but finding out she also had a time limit—and one Una had a lot more ease
understanding—made her want to include her even more.
She'd been sure once Starfleet
caught up with her, life would be over. Forever. Even if her incarceration
wasn't long, she'd be drummed out of the fleet.
But Leanna had saved her.
As had a lot of others, including
her new mentee. Which she still wasn't one hundred percent on board with. "Why
me for Chapel, Chris? Why not La'an? They're already close."
"Yeah, but how
close?" He started to laugh. "You need to get to know her in a way
that isn't about you protecting Spock and La'an. She's a fun person."
"She's cocky as
hell."
He eased away enough to study
her. "That bugs you more than anything, doesn't it. How open she is. How
free to be herself. To do what she wants. Be with one person, two possibly? To convert
to Starfleet with a snap of my fingers without paying her dues at the
academy."
God, he was making her sound
neurotic—and petty. But yeah, she really did resent those things. "I'll
get over it."
"I don't want you to get
over it. I want you to work through it." He kissed her gently. "She
won't be the last person to get an easy ride. Or to be so genuinely herself
when you couldn't be."
"It's ridiculous, isn't
it? In some ways, I still feel locked up."
"Well, don't. You're
free. You're loved. You have friends. And you've never had an issue speaking
your mind, so I don't know why you'd envy Chapel that." He was laughing at
her so she mock punched him. "Have you considered counseling?" His
voice was free of judgment. "La'an seems to be prospering in it."
"I know. And yeah, I
probably should consider it. But Chris, I don't trust that what I say—if it has
to do with anything Illyrian—will stay with a counselor. Won't be used against
me someday in the future when another panel convenes and aren't so pleasantly disposed
toward me."
"I understand that
fear." He pulled her close. "I wish I could tell you I won't let anything
happen to you. But clearly I can't because it did and I could do nothing."
"You didn't do nothing.
Stop it. You brought in Leanna. You found all those character witnesses for me.
Chapel and Spock. La'an. That was you."
"You know me. I'm great
at assembling the crowd for a meal. But the meal goes its own way once I've cooked
it and gotten everyone seated. Your service record, Una. Your actions and
commendations and your character. They also were witnesses. Good ones." He
brushed her hair off her face. "Great ones. My favorite ones."
"You're tired of talking
about my neuroses, aren't you?"
"No, I just want to kiss
you more."
"Fine." She pretended
it was putting her out to let him do it and he laughed.
But he also pulled out all
the stops. The man could kiss with the best of them.
"I'm too full to do
more. I need to cut back on the cooking."
"I'm full too. Your
food's too good not to enjoy fully. I dreamed about it when I was being held.
As far as sex, there's always morning."
"There is always morning,
isn't there." He poured them out more scotch. They'd taken to bringing the
bottle to the couch with them, so they wouldn't have to get up to refill their glasses.
"Morning."
He got very quiet.
"Stop it. Stop counting
how many mornings in ten years." She glared at him.
"Sorry. Force of
habit."
##
Chapel walked back to her
quarters, curious as to why Spock wasn't just meeting her in the mess. He'd
specifically asked her not to make plans for that evening and to come to their
quarters when she was off shift.
Their quarters. He called his quarters that, and she loved
it.
When she opened the door, a
lovely aroma wafted toward her. Food was laid out and it looked like some of
her favorites. As she moved into the room, she saw a big rectangular item
wrapped in gift paper leaning against her favorite reading chair. "Aww, Spock.
I said you didn't have to."
"I am aware of that. I
chose to." He took her hand and led her into the room, picking up the
package and giving it to her. "Happy birthday. I know I am a day early.
But there is a reason."
She opened the package, ripping
into it from the middle to Spock's obvious consternation, so the first thing
she saw was the dented wall panel. Then as she kept pulling paper off, she saw
the exquisite copper frame around it. "Spock, is this the artist I showed
you?"
"Yes, I contacted her.
She agreed to do this frame for me." He touched the dent. "This is
the beginning of us as a couple. And for our room it is something that is not
mine nor yours, but ours." He ran his finger along the exquisitely hammered
copper. "And this is something you love."
He took her hand and squeezed
gently. "No one else, except La'an—who I must admit gave me some help with
wrapping and other things—understands the significance of this. But we do. I
envision an entire wall of such items. Or a shelving unit—not everything may be
suitable for hanging."
She was so touched. "You
see a future for us? With a shelving unit full of nostalgia?"
"I do. Is that a future
you also see?"
She didn't answer quickly, but
before she could spit out something trite, he nodded as if this had been the
expected response.
"The reason I am doing
this now and not tomorrow on your actual birthday is that there is a second
part of your present, and I did not wish us to be interrupted by well-wishers."
"A second part?" She
looked around for the item she must have missed.
"It is here, Christine."
He gently placed his fingers in the meld position. "I imagine you have
wondered why we have not shared a meld yet?"
"I have." She'd
wondered a lot the last few days. Wondered if he was going to be like Roger—requiring
a long flitter ride in a region not their own with dead corn rustling to share the
deepest parts of himself.
"It is because I did not
wish to rush into this level of intimacy. I wanted us to be sure we were ready
to share."
"I understand."
"I know you have
resisted commitment in the past. This may not be a present you are ready for.
Or may ever be ready for. I will not judge you for that. If you do not wish to
meld, ease away from my fingers."
She pushed hard into them and
was rewarded with an actual smile. Then he began, murmuring, "Relax, it
will not hurt in any way," and she felt the sensation of him within her,
of her being within him too.
La'an
had shared how specific the meld had been when they'd needed to do it for the Gorn. This was the opposite. Spock was not narrowing his
focus, he was sharing this warm, loving feeling with every part of her.
As she relaxed into the meld,
he said—or maybe spoke in her mind—"The dented panel was the beginning of
our love affair, but not of my interest." And he began to show her their
interactions from his point of view. The first time, when she'd had to change
his DNA, then the shot when she'd first teased him. All the interactions,
colored by his regard.
His affection.
His amusement.
Eventually his lust.
And then his love.
She tried to share the same
things with him. How he'd been just someone she'd flirted with, like everyone
else. How he'd been her friend. How she hadn't wanted to come between him and T'Pring.
How it eventually became inevitable.
How the kiss wasn't a farce
for her.
"Nor for me."
Then they just sank into the
connection, the extraordinary intimacy of sharing minds. He showed her how he
felt about his family: his love for a sister and brother he so rarely spoke of,
the prominence of his mother in his memories, his estrangement from his father—an
estrangement that began well before they stopped talking. She tried to share
her background, her disappointments, how she'd been hurt, why she'd been afraid
to commit.
A few minutes—or maybe hours
later—he said, "This can be used during sex to great effect. Or we can
eat."
"The food's in stasis,
right?"
"It is." He was already
rising, pulling her up, kissing her as they went, bumping into furniture as
they tried to navigate their room as one unit rather than two.
Finally they fell onto the
bed. She saw herself through his eyes as he undressed her, heard him sigh in
pleasure at how much she enjoyed his body as she returned the favor.
Each touch echoed back, her
feelings, his sensations, everything all at once.
It was overwhelming.
It was amazing.
It was love.
And it was something she had
never, ever had. Not with Roger. Not with the others before and after him.
"I want only you,"
she heard Spock say. "I love only you."
They drifted, the meld slowly
burning out, until they fell asleep.
Part 2
It had been years since Spock
had been in the house at Carmel-by-the-Sea. Years since he had been welcome
home. And yet this year his father had reached out.
Not warmly, admittedly: Your
mother will be at the Carmel house. We invite you and any guests you might wish
to invite to join her. I have duties off planet but may return in time to join
you.
Any guests he might care to
invite. Meaning Christine. But he would not say her name even though Spock imagined
his mother had fully briefed him and done her best to sway him to this new
normal.
It gave Spock a small frisson
of pleasure to show up with not just her but La'an. "Yes, Father," he
wanted to say. "I have friends. Human ones."
Must the pleasure he got from
interacting with his father always come from defying him?
"Wow." Christine
took off the sunglasses La'an had given her for her
birthday—they were immensely attractive on her—and took in the great hall, lingering
on the intricate wall carvings.
La'an
was at the window, looking out at the sea. "This view."
"The beach is
accessible. There are multiple meditation paths leading down to it. I do not suggest
swimming as the currents are unpredictable, but wading can be agreeable." This
he remembered from his childhood. How much he loved that beach, the empty
stretch of it that was all his.
Until Michael came along.
Then it was theirs. Only she spent her time on the meditation paths more than
the sand. So eager to please Sarek.
And she did. More than Spock ever
had.
"Well, there you
are," he heard from the door and turned to see his mother. "Aren't
you a sight for sore eyes?" She hurried to him and hugged him tightly, the
way she always had.
Only this time, after years
of not returning her embrace, he hugged her back.
"Oh, Spock, I've missed
you." He let her keep her arm around him—a comforting touch he'd loved
during childhood until he was old enough to understand how counter to Vulcan
progress it was, how...human. "And introduce me to the two people you
value enough to brave your father with."
"You know Christine."
He was not sure if she would hold her hand out or merely nod, but instead she
let go of him and pulled Christine into a tight hug. He could hear her say, "You're
very, very welcome here, darling."
It made something in him relax,
but not entirely. That would not happen until his father—if he joined them—also
approved of her.
Then his mother let Christine
go and turned to La'an. "And you must be the incredible chess player Spock
speaks so highly of? La'an, right?"
La'an blushed—perhaps the
first time he had ever seen her do that. "Yes, ma'am. Do you play?"
"Oh, heavens no. And please,
call me Amanda. But Sarek plays. Challenge him to a game when he arrives."
"If," Spock said softly.
"When," she said firmly,
not even looking at him. "Happy wife, happy life, after all." She
took Christine and La'an by the arms and said,
"Let me show off this monster of a house. It's dreadfully large for just the
five of us. But it is a gorgeous monster."
He trailed along as she soon
had both of the women laughing, then La'an began to ask the kind of questions
he used to ask, about how things were made and when. Christine seemed more interested
in the art, in the special gilt and copper treatment on the wooden bookshelves,
the way the stained glass in the window on the first landing of the stairs
gleamed.
He could almost hear Sybok whispering
to him, "She has an artist's heart."
Just as Sybok used to whisper
about T'Pring, "Are you sure, my brother? She will love with no
moderation."
A most curious sentiment for
a Vulcan who eschewed logic and sought emotion. Surely her passion for him—if it
was as strong as Sybok said—was a good thing?
Or had been. Now it was
irrelevant. He was with Christine.
Christine who was making his mother
laugh, just as she did most people she interacted with. Christine who was
lively and charming and brilliant, and who he wanted right now to make love to.
Or write another paper with. Truly
the best of both worlds.
His mother eventually led
them to their rooms, where their bags had been placed. "I'll let you all
get settled."
La'an went into the room across
the hall from Spock's, and Christine into the room next, but a moment later there
was a knock on the adjoining door.
He opened it to her.
She was grinning. "Perfect
compromise to the 'Do I let my precious boy sleep with his tart of a girlfriend
or not?' dilemma." She winked to let him know she was teasing. "I
assume these are soundproofed for Vulcan ears. So, whatever we do in here won't
be heard by Vulcans, let alone mere humans."
"You assume correctly."
"Was this your room when
you were growing up? Did you have your friends over for sleepovers and you all spread
out over both rooms?" Her voice was full of good humor, as if the idea of
a sleepover with one, let alone multiple friends, was a given.
"That was not my experience
growing up." And Michael had not wanted a connecting room. So his childhood
room had been in a wing near his parents. Once he had become old enough to
demand privacy, it was only a few years before he and his father were estranged,
and this house was no longer a welcoming place."
Sybok had never been brought
here—to anywhere on Earth. His father had not wanted to contaminate a son
already suspect as far as emotional control went with exposure to humans. Perhaps
if he had, things might have turned out differently. Sybok might have learned
moderation.
Spock missed him. He knew why
his brother had been sent away. He had understood the rationale and even on
days when he could turn off the loneliness, had agreed with it. But Sybok had
always looked out for him in a way no one else had. Looked out for his heart was
how he'd put it. "No Vulcan will care about the state of your heart,
little brother."
But T'Pring had. Or perhaps
she had only cared about the state of hers? Was that what Sybok had been saying
for so long? That T'Pring's passion for him was verging on obsession?
Surely not. She was the model
of Vulcan logic or she would not be assigned to Ankeshtan
K'til. She would accept their ending and move on, as
was the logical thing to do. Find a suitable alternative, which she already had
in Stonn. Who had always wanted her—always loved her, if Spock was honest. Perhaps
more than he had.
"You okay?" Christine
asked softly.
"I am distracted. Apologies."
She moved toward him, taking
his hands and pulling them around her. "It's okay. Home is weird. Even
when it's only a vacation home. So many memories."
"Or lack thereof." He
pulled her onto his lap and kissed her. "I am...happy you are here with
me."
"Your mom's a sweetheart.
Unless she was just softening me for the kill later?"
"No, I was surprised at
the warmth of her welcome. She is not false in that manner; if she hugged you,
it was because she felt you merited such a strong welcome."
She nuzzled his neck and
whispered, "I like her."
"As do I. A fortunate
coincidence of events."
She snuggled in closer to him.
"Will I kill the mood if I ask if she had the same relationship with T'Pring?"
"You will not. And she
did not." He kissed along her jawline, then down her neck. He assessed what
he was getting from her: enjoyment of what he was doing, love for him, excitement,
and just the slightest sense of trepidation. Probably about his father, which
he felt too if he was honest, so he could not blame her. La'an
was probably the only one of them who could not care less what Sarek of Vulcan
thought of her.
He wished he could be more
like La'an in that.
"T'Pring actively wooed
my mother. She was not my father's first choice for whom to link me to in a
family alliance. My mother never warmed to her. I do not know why." He
thought back. "What I have just said is inaccurate. She was tepidly in
favor of our match and then something changed. Her coldness grew over
time."
"Did they have a fight?
If Vulcans fight." She laughed softly.
"No, that was the
curious thing. T'Pring once told me she asked my mother about her change in attitude
and my mother said she was imagining it. But she was not. Even I could see
it."
"And you're clueless."
"Precisely." He lay
back and pulled her down with him. "It would make me happy if she not only
warmed to you but...loved you."
"Such emotional terms, Spock.
My goodness." She rolled to his side. "I hope so too. It's not great
when the mother of your lover doesn't like you."
"You know this from
experience."
"Wilhemina
Korby. Bitch of the fucking century." She met his eyes. "I'd say
sorry for my French but I'm actually understating how heinous she was."
"Then it is good you are
no longer with him."
"It sure is." She
began to let her hand play over him, on his chest, down under his pants, then
his undergarments. Then...there. "Let's put this soundproofing to the test."
"Yes. Excellent idea."
He could barely get the words out. He soon abandoned speech altogether.
##
Number One felt herself bouncing
as her horse trotted rather than sitting it gracefully the way Chris and Leanna
were doing. "Whoa, horse," she said for the umpteenth time, trying to
get her supposedly gentle horse to slow the hell down.
Chris circled back to her as
Leanna sped up, and said, "How you two doing?"
"She's great. Me, not so
much." She pretended to look under her mane. "Where's the off switch?"
Grinning, he said, "Whoa,
Micky."
The damn horse stopped. At just
at the sound of his voice. Despite all her pulling and cajoling, she'd only
kept up with the others. But Chris said one damn thing to her and she was good
as gold. His horse, Tango, was perfect also.
He leaned in to kiss her. "It
is so damn comforting to know there's one thing you're really bad at."
"Oh shut up." But she
let him kiss her more. If it meant the horse would never move again—she'd make
love to him right here in front of Leanna. If Leanna were still in sight. Which
she wasn't.
"The trot is the hardest
gait. I promise you. Let me show you a canter, and I think you will finally
have some fun." He got a funny look. "If, that is, you stay on."
"Damn it, Chris."
But he was already moving
them forward, Micky following Tango as they moved from walk to trot to a much
faster gait.
For a moment she just froze. Then
she realized he wasn't wrong. This rhythm was so much nicer. It reminded her a
little of a boat at sea under gentle waves.
"See?" He grinned
at her and urged Tango to go faster and the canter turned into a gallop.
Holy shit they were going
fast. They passed Leanna, who had pulled off the trail to let her horse eat
some grass and suddenly she knew without him having to tell her that they were
racing.
"Oh, fuck it, horse. Let's
cream him." She leaned forward a little and felt Micky speed up.
In the end, she didn't win,
but she did manage to stop the horse herself, which she counted as a huge victory.
And she stayed on through the entire race, so again—yay.
"See why I like it so
much?"
"Mayyyybe."
She heard hoofbeats coming up behind them and turned to Leanna. "Please
tell me lunch is soon."
"Lunch is with Joseph down
by the river," Chris said. "If we can lure him away from his beloved
fish." He shot Leanna a stern look. "That's your assignment."
"Anything for food. Although
for the record, I'm—and I'm sure Una too—will be eating with or without
him."
"Amen."
Chris rolled his eyes. "I
suddenly feel very outnumbered. Joseph," he called in mock desperation.
They walked the horses down
to the river; a fact Number One was glad for because the way they were going
was damned steep. The sound of the water immediately soothed her, though; it
was so bubbling and happy.
Joseph looked over. "Is
it lunch time already?"
"Told you," Chris said
with a laugh as he pointed to the pre-positioned stasis unit sitting in the shade
near a blanket and cushions. He must have brought them out when he was showing
Joseph the best places to fish. "Can you guys get the food out while I let
these guys cool off?"
As they laid out the very yummy
looking food, he took the horses to the creek, downstream from Joseph probably
so he wouldn't interfere with the sacred activity of fly fishing. The horses drank
and then splashed around for a while, then he led them back, dropped their reins
to the ground and walked away from them.
At her look, he said, "They're
used to ground tying. They won't run away." He began to dig through the cooler.
"Should be some apples for them." He found them and spent time with
each horse, talking to them like they were his best friends. She realized the
bridles only went around the nose, not into the mouth. She assumed that was a
kinder way to ride, but no wonder she'd had no luck stopping at first. He used
to go on about the connection between horse and rider—she'd never understood it
until she'd stopped Micky after the race without overthinking it.
It was probably a good thing
they'd had that moment of connection. If she was with Chris, this was going to
be something he'd want to do together. She might as well get to like it.
"Una," he said softly.
He still had an apple and handed it to her. "You feed it to her. She'll
like you even better."
"Even better? What makes
you think she likes me at all?"
"She hates to race. Yet
she did it for you."
"Maybe my super strength
was too much for her."
"Nyah,
she'd have just bucked you off."
She turned to look at him
after she'd fed Micky the apple. "You gave me a horse that bucked?"
"Well, technically they
all can buck." He was having way too much fun with this. He was smiling so
openly, his stance relaxed, such love coming from him.
"I like it here, Chris.
I like you here."
He pulled her close. "I
like us here."
"Food's getting cold, you
two," Joseph said. He said something else to Leanna under his breath—Una couldn't
make it out but she did hear her laugh.
"Food's overrated,"
Chris said, for possibly the first time in his life.
She wasn't going to argue. Kissing
this man in the middle of nowhere with a bubbling stream behind them and her
horse using Una's back as a scratching post suddenly seemed like the best
activity ever.
##
Amanda saw La'an sitting on
one of the benches overlooking the ocean. "Do you want company or solitude?
Any answer is fine, my dear."
"Company. But I was just
about to walk down to the beach."
"Perfect. I was going to
go wading. Spock and Christine seem to have a lot of things to unpack."
La'an laughed in a way she couldn't
entirely read. The girl was gorgeous if rigidly so. She and Christine had been
standing very close, and if Amanda hadn't known Christine was with her son, she
might have thought they were the romantic pair of this trio.
"So, Spock has told me
little about you other than you're chief security officer." She held up a
hand when La'an started to answer. "If you like telling your story, by all
means do so. But I also find it fascinating to try to figure out a person by an
activity like today's."
"You think you can unlock
the mystery of me during a beach excursion?" When Amanda nodded, she asked,
"Did Spock tell you my last name?"
She frowned. "No,
actually, he didn't. Are you going to?"
"Nope." There was
an air of mischief on her face Amanda hadn't seen before. She filed that away
for the picture she was building of her.
As they walked, she noticed
how lightly La'an moved. But not like a dancer might. This was more calculated.
Or perhaps more desperate since she also turned quickly when a squirrel made a
branch snap. She did it again when they strayed too close to a swallow's nest
and were dive bombed.
Trauma. She'd seen it with Michael.
But being a security officer
might tend a person toward traumatic situations.
Suddenly she stopped, and Amanda
saw that the new neighbors' dog must have jumped their fence again. He was not
a particularly nice dog but then she was afraid of them. She had her own trauma
in that respect. "We should go back."
La'an gently pushed her
behind her and said, "It's okay. Stay here."
Then she walked to the dog,
who growled, then barked, then the bark turned into a whine, and when La'an stopped
an arm's length away from it, it was wriggling all over and wagging its tail.
Amanda hadn't heard her say a
word.
La'an knelt and the dog put its
head gently against her chest as La'an hugged it and now Amanda could hear her
talking, "Nice baby. Sweet baby."
Then she said, "Where's
this one's home?"
Amanda pointed to the small
cottage just visible through the trees, down a less used path, and La'an said, "Back in a flash," and then took off
running with the dog at her side. The dog was leaping up as La'an held out her
hand, and it was clearly some sort of game. They disappeared around a bend, and
a few minutes later La'an jogged back alone.
"Her name is Pepper."
Everything rigid had fallen away from her. "I told them they needed a
taller fence. Dog like that can jump way higher than the one they've got."
Her smile was easy, making Amanda realize how guarded it had been before.
"Oh, sweetheart, they
won't listen. I've told them that many times."
"Probably not the way I
did. There may have been some bogus local regulations I made up. With some very
stiff penalties. I can be quite imposing when I want."
She laughed, enjoying this
young woman, the puzzle of her. "And the accent helps."
"I don't have an accent.
You have one." She grinned and said, "Where's the beach? Now that I've
gotten some quality dog time, I need some quality wading time."
"This way." The path
wound gently down, the kind of path anyone could manage, not only the strong
and young. It had frequent benches and side paths that led to little groves for
private meditation.
"Figured me out
yet?"
"You're fierce but you charmed
that dog without a word."
"I love dogs." She tilted
her head. "That all you got?"
She could have said she
thought La'an was used to being alone in addition to
the trauma. Not opening up. Deflecting away care. But it was too beautiful a
day to open potentially barely healed wounds, especially for someone who'd protected
her without even seeming to think about it. "You knew I was afraid of
Pepper, didn't you?"
"Yeah. But I can see
why. She isn't mean, just afraid, so she acts tough. Fearful dogs are more
dangerous than aggressive ones because aggressive ones choose to be jerks. Fear
makes you act without thinking."
"Are we talking about
the dog or you?"
"Everyone. Fear is the problem.
I recently had an opportunity to face one of my greatest ones. My first
instinct was to run. My second to lash out."
"And your third?"
"To protect the people I
love."
"And my son and Christine
are people you love?"
"They are. Well, she is.
I've been friends with him a lot less time."
"Oh, beau of the friend
can be tricky."
"Fortunately, he's a good
guy." She grinned. "But then you know that. You raised him to
be."
They'd reached the beach, and
Amanda slipped out of her sandals and saw La'an do the same. "Last one
wet's a rotten egg," she said and took off.
La'an caught her easily, and
they hit the water together, splashing each other and laughing. When she'd had
enough, Amanda sat on the dry sand just out of the water's reach and watched La'an
run down the beach, the packed wet sand holding her footprints until a new wave
came in. She ran to the end, where the cliffs divided their private beach from
the public one on the other side, then back again, then repeated it three more
times. Finally she collapsed next to Amanda, barely breathing hard.
"I haven't been to a
beach in a long time. Not since my family di—" She busied herself picking
up sand and letting it fall through her fingers.
"Died?"
She nodded in a way that said
she clearly did not want to discuss it.
"Well, I had a daughter
and I used to braid her hair. But she's gone, too. I see you like braids. May I
do another kind I think might suit you?"
She expected her to either
bristle or immediately turn so Amanda had an easier reach. But instead she
said, "Christine does that."
Interesting. "Does that
mean I can't?"
"Oh, no. If you want, I
mean. I guess...I guess I'm not sure what the fuss is."
She carefully released La'an's hair from a pony tail, then unbraided the small—ornamental,
to be honest—tight braids near her part. "Well, you have gorgeous
hair."
"So do a lot of people. I
don't see Christine braiding theirs."
"You're also very, very
pretty."
"Except I never smile
and I scare the living shit out of most people."
She laughed gently "And
you clearly sugar-coat everything." She decided to make a fishtail braid. It
had been so long since she'd done this for Michael, and it felt good. "My
son does not appear scared of you. Nor does Christine."
"Christine's not afraid
of much."
"And my son?"
"Our relationship might
be a little complicated."
"Do I want to know?
Should I have given you a three-room suite?" The place had several for
families.
"Oh, no, not like that. He
and I don't even like each other."
"He would not bring someone
he didn't like here."
She was back to playing with
the sand so Amanda took that as her tell when subjects were uncomfortable and
dropped it. As she worked on the braid, she could feel La'an relaxing. "This
place is magical, I think. So lovely. So calm."
"It is. I'm glad I
came."
She finished the braid and
secured it, then gently loosed the various parts. She wanted to see this girl
with a softer look. "Okay, turn around and let me see."
La'an did and Amanda pulled a
few pieces out to frame her face. "Gorgeous." She glanced back up the
hill. "You think those two are done unpacking yet?"
"Who knows. We can go pound
on the door. Ruin the mood—for unpacking." She was laughing and it made
her look so much younger. "Or you could just make me your favorite drink
and I'll try to figure you out based on what it is."
"Oh, that sounds far more
fun than bothering them." She let La'an pull her up and they took the
uphill walk slowly, talking the whole way up.
The neighbors were walking
toward them on the trail when they got to the top, Pepper safely on a leash. The
husband—Amanda had never bothered to learn their names because they glared at
Sarek every time they saw them in public. "We've called a contractor, Lieutenant.
They'll be here tomorrow to add height to the fence. I hope we can convince you
to discard that citation."
La'an looked very strict,
even as Pepper strained at the leash to get to her. "This dog needs obedience
training."
"She's not really the
kind of dog that obeys."
"Then I'll confiscate
her and you'll never see her again."
Amanda had to bite back a laugh.
Did Christopher allow dogs on board?
Suddenly the woman was keying
in something, then held up a padd. "I just booked us training. Non refundable, see?"
"Fine, this time I'll
let you off with a warning. But if I ever hear that this dog has been harassing
my friends here..."
"Understood. No problem."
They actually looked at Amanda. "Sorry, ma'am. Won't happen again."
Then they hurried away, Pepper complaining and looking longingly back at La'an.
"I'd like to adopt that
dog."
"I'd like to adopt
you."
La'an gave her a very sweet
smile. "I might be okay with that." Then her smile turned the
slightest bit sinister. "Spock probably wouldn't. Let's definitely do it
then."
Amanda felt a pang of both
loss and happiness. Loss for Michael, and happiness for Spock, who somehow had
made friends with this force of nature.
Spock and Christine were on
the porch when they walked up, and Christine immediately rose to admire La'an's braid.
"Have I been replaced?"
she asked sternly, hands on her hips.
"Never," La'an said
so tenderly that again Amanda would have mistaken them for lovers.
She glanced at Spock but he
seemed untroubled. She had part of a picture of La'an built but a whole lot was
empty. Well, she had the rest of the vacation to fill in those blank spaces.
She looked at Christine. "We're
having drinks."
"Now you're speaking my
language," Christine said, following her in to the kitchen. "You do
mean with alcohol, right?"
"Is there any other kind?"
"Yes, Mother, there
is." Spock sounded resigned.
"I'll make you a lovely
mocktail, Spock. You won't feel left out at all. Maybe a Shirley Temple like
when you were a boy?"
"Patronizing me will get
you nowhere, Mother." But he looked...happy when she glanced back at him.
It warmed her heart to see.
##
T'Pring made her way into the
security wing, this time stopping to talk to the guard. Someone was letting
messages in to Sybok from Angel, and this was a likely source.
She gently led him down the
same conversational roads she did her patients when she was first assessing. Trying
to see if or how deeply logic had been compromised in favor of emotion. But she
saw none of the signs with him and eased them back out of the assessment with
the guard never being the wiser.
She scanned the area as she
walked, trying to see if there were others she should interview, but all seemed
to be transiting the area the same way she was.
Finally she got to Sybok's cell, and slid open the window.
"Missed me
already?" he said from the floor, where he appeared to be meditating.
"Query: why do you
consider emotion preferable to logic?"
"I have never found your
fondness for archaic-form discourse attractive. Ask me again like a person, not
a computer."
"Query: why do you
consider emotion preferable to logic?"
"Your stubbornness is
tiresome."
"Query: why do you
consider emotion preferable to logic?"
And there, the bone-deep training
from when all Vulcans first learned logic kicked in as he stood and said,
almost against his will, "Response: because it should be my choice to feel
or not, embrace logic or not."
He seemed shaken that he had
answered and began to pace. Good, she wanted him off balance.
"Query: Do you believe that
if I had not alerted Sarek to your behavior, Spock would have?"
He whirled on her. "He
would never have. I was making progress with him."
"Were you?" She stood
very still, trying her best not to show she agreed with him despite the
question. Watching Spock being ruined by him had been as critical a reason to
go to Sarek as the chance it would make him more amenable to her union with his
son.
He stopped pacing. "I
was. And you know I was." Eyes narrowed, he studied her. "What do you
really want? Just spit it out, little serpent."
"Spock has been in
contact with me." It was true, but only insofar as he had returned the
engagement necklace and included a short note in the package. "Perhaps you
do not know him as well as you think?"
He laughed far too quickly for
her liking. "He is still with her. I know they are on Earth even now. With
his mother."
Not surprising. Amanda would
want to meet Spock's new woman.
"And our father."
She whipped her head up,
emotion pushing the words out before logic could call them back: "Sarek
would not."
"I, too, am amazed. But
so it is. My father and my brother have not spoken for so long. To think of a reconciliation—it
makes my heart sing." He smiled mockingly at her. "If you really
loved my brother, you would want what was best for him. And it seems this Christine
Chapel is what's best for him."
She lifted her chin, gave him
the look she normally reserved for lower beings. "You spout nonsense.
Logic is the true refuge of a Vulcan. If Sarek and Spock indeed have a rapprochement,
it will be because Sarek has deemed it the logical thing to do."
"Ah, yes, he uses that
excuse so often to cover up his emotional needs. Logic is useful that way. I
too, if I were not an honest person, could use it to my benefit."
"Unlikely. Emotions will
out. Your shortcomings would manifest in short order."
"Says the one who works
here so selflessly, restoring others to the way of logic. Lest her emotions
also come out. Lest her shortcomings manifest."
She kept her face
relentlessly even. "Sarek will find Chapel lacking."
"If you say so, T'Pring.
If you say so."
"Just as he found you
lacking. Just as he wanted you made over rather than free. Vulcan rather than
whatever I see in front of me."
His good humor fell away so
suddenly it made her take a step back. She had found his weak point: his
father. "You exhaust me. Go away."
"What if I do not want
to. Not when we are finally making progress?"
He walked to his cot and lay
down, covering his face with crossed forearms. "I will sleep and dream of
Angel. I want that kind of love for Spock. The kind that brings joy, not constant
self-doubt."
"The doubting of self
rarely abates at the introduction of others in our lives. It
is...intrinsic."
"You would know, T'Pring."
He turned to his side, leaving his back to her. "You would know."
##
La'an could feel the atmosphere
around the house change after Sarek arrived, like a hurricane rolling into town—if
a very dignified and quiet one.
Spock barely touched Christine
when before he had been tactile—for a Vulcan. He also seemed to be going out of
his way to avoid anywhere Sarek might be. He had suggested a hike to town yesterday
to show Christine and her the sights. Earlier he had showed them how to climb
the cliff to get around to the public beach—a beach they had stayed on quite a
long time. They'd just grabbed food at a concession stand—they hadn't eaten with
his mother since his father showed up—and she and Christine were at a picnic
table enjoying it, but Spock seemed to be pacing.
"Is he abused?" La'an
asked softly—she knew how acute Vulcan hearing was. "Did Sarek hurt him as
a child?"
"Not that I know of."
"Well, he's afraid of
him. His scent has changed."
"It's so unnerving you
can do that."
La'an shrugged. "Senses accommodate
situations. Gorn smell different at various stages of
growth. Some smells mean danger more than others. It kept me alive."
"Go talk to him. Shame
him into sitting with me or something, okay?"
"I'm eating, Christine.
And he's your boyfriend. If you don't like it, you do something about it."
Christine studied Spock for a
long time, but then turned back to her fish and chips.
"Are you chickening
out?"
"No. I'm going to talk
to Sarek later. Alone."
"Don't be an
idiot."
"Someone has to." To
La'an's amazement, tears filled Chapel's eyes—tears she
angrily dashed away. "He's...he's not even himself. He's afraid but I don't
know of what. But what if I make things worse? What if Sarek hates me and hates
that Spock is with me?"
"Hey." She put her
hand over Christine. "Hey, it's okay. I'll do it, all right? I'll talk to
Sarek." Although she really thought Spock should grow a pair and do it himself.
But everyone had their Achilles Heel, and Spock's appeared to be his dad.
La'an couldn't imagine. Her
father had been so important to her. But maybe that was why she needed to do
it. Christine had slept with her most recent father-ish
figure and Spock was a wreck. It was up to her.
When they got back to the
house, she found Sarek in what appeared to be a private office. "Hello, Ambassador."
They'd barely even been introduced to him, and he had not told them to call him
Sarek. Which was fine for her but pretty shitty that his son's girlfriend was
stuck calling him by his title. When he actually deigned to be seen.
"Lieutenant Noonien-Singh."
Ah, so he did know who she
was. And he was putting her on notice. "Guilty as charged. May I come in?
I was told you were in need of a chess partner."
"I am not."
"Not what I heard."
She took a deep—if silent—breath, walked into the room, closed the pocket doors
behind her and walked to the chessboard that was already set up.
And if that chessboard hadn't
been set up, she'd have never done that. But it stood like an SOS buoy. Like a
message from a man who loved to play but had lost all his partners.
She stood, impassive as she
could, and he finally rose and walked over to her.
"I was in the audience
when you briefed on your experience with the Gorn. Most
impressive."
"I was a little girl
trying not to die. Nothing impressive about it. Just basic survival."
"I meant how you are
now. How you are trying to help. How...open you were about what happened, despite
the pain it must have caused to relive it." He looked over at the chessboard.
"It has been some time since I played."
"Then shall we?"
They played in silence at first,
and she knew he was talking the measure of her. His play was, of course,
excellent. He had no doubt taught Spock how to play. But she thought Spock was
the better player—that he used instinct more than she'd previously thought.
That this man might lose to
his son as much as win.
He did win the first game but
as they setting up for the next, he murmured, "Most impressive."
"When I was on the Gorn planet, at times it was safest to go to ground. You
had to lie very quietly, so I would play chess games in my head." She met
his eyes. "Sir, I lost everyone I loved on that ship. It was years before
I found another person to care about. And years more before I found two people
I consider close friends."
"My son and Christine?"
She nodded. "You do
yourself a disservice by refusing to interact."
"I am not the one
refusing. He does not come near me, and his woman glares at me. It would be
unnerving if I were not a Vulcan."
La'an thought it was probably
unnerving even if you were a Vulcan: Christine could glare with the best of
them. "You're the father. You need to make the first move."
"I have lost the knack.
If I ever had it." He closed his eyes. "The irony is I had a daughter.
Human. We took her in. My relationship with her was simple."
"Yes, because she wasn't
blood. Any distress she caused you wasn't because of your genetic
material." She grinned when he looked over at her sternly. "Sir, we are
always easier on those who are family by choice than by blood. The choice itself—to
open ourselves and our lives to an unrelated being—exposes doors we never even notice
with those we're related to." Not her idea—her therapist's, when talking
about La'an's own relationships.
"I will consider that."
He frowned ever so slightly as he studied the board, a board she'd been busy on
while she talked. "I have evidently not been considering your play
sufficiently. How did you...?""
She smiled. It was check in
three turns. He escaped though through a combination of moves she'd never seen Spock
do.
As she considered her moves,
he asked very, very softly, "Does he thrive?"
"He does." She didn't
look at him, wanting to give him emotional space to dig deep if he needed to.
God, her therapist really was
rubbing off on her. Was that a good thing? She knew it was making her a better
leader. Her people seemed significantly less afraid of her since she took time
off to take care of a child.
If only the captain would let
her bring a dog on board. Then her people would really see her soft side.
They finished the game and when
he reached to set up the next, she laid her hand over his, knowing full well he
could read her, and tried to send him every good thing she knew and felt about Spock.
She tried to censor out how annoying he could be too but probably failed. "Sir,
the next game should be with him. May I go inform him you wish to play?"
"It has been too long. We
may be forever at odds."
"The journey of a
thousand miles starts with a single step." Oh, God, kill her now. She had
to stop seeing her therapist before she started needlepointing "Today is
the first day of the rest of your life."
But the homily worked. As she
eased her hand away, he said, "Yes, please send in my son."
##
Spock stood at the entrance
to Sarek's office. A room he was once welcomed in, the
table holding the chessboard one he often sat at.
When Michael had not beaten
him to it. Which she often did.
Which he often let her do. He
was both envious of her easy relationship with his father and grateful for it. The
more attention Sarek gave her, the less scrutiny Spock would live under.
Sarek looked up, even though
he had to have heard the slap of Spock's sandals and could have already been
looking up with a welcoming expression. Typical, this power play
"Father."
"My son."
Spock waited for him to ask
him in, but he did not. He debated turning now, going back to Christine, telling
her to pack her bags and then they could go elsewhere, somewhere...safe.
Let La'an stay in this house
since she, like Michael, had so charmed his parents.
He was almost ready to turn,
when Sarek said, "Will you join me in a game?"
He tried to read his tone.
For sarcasm. For disapproval. But all he heard was the invitation. Would he
join his father in a game?
He was moving to the table
before he had consciously decided. Apparently, he would.
They played in silence and the
first few moves went as they often had when Spock was young, but then he
remembered La'an's soft words as she came to fetch
him. "Play as you do now, with all your experience away from your
childhood. I think you might surprise yourself—and him."
So he changed his strategy,
playing as if his father was La'an instead. He could tell the change was
noticed; his father's play slowed, the almost bored look on his face transforming
into curiosity then...was he perplexed?
"Check," Spock said
at his next move. He was afraid to move, afraid to do anything that might sever
the spell of putting his father's king in check this early in the game.
Instead of making a move, his
father said, "We must discuss the matter of T'Pring."
"The matter? She is a
person."
"Of course." He
finally moved a piece, out of check, but not completely out of danger. "I
regret she did not live up to your aspirations."
Spock felt an unexpected
surge of protectiveness for her. "Perhaps if she had not had to lie to me
about the whereabouts of my brother, things would have turned out
differently." He leaned forward. "She was an innocent and you turned
her into your accomplice."
"I am doing for Sybok what
I think appropriate."
"And making her lie for
you in the process."
Sarek actually frowned.
"Who do you think it was who alerted me to his troubling behavior?"
Spock sat back.
"No."
"Yes. She is far from
innocent, my son."
"Was it her idea to
incarcerate him?"
"No that was mine."
Sarek pushed the chessboard to the side. "I had hoped that he might still be
helped, might still find his way back to logic."
"Will you incarcerate
me, father, for choosing a human?"
"I do not know why I
would. She seems a woman of good character. And the paper you wrote jointly was
brilliant. As she was listed as first author, I assume it was primarily her project."
Spock sat stunned. His father
had read their work? And had he just...complimented them? "It was. She
is...she is exceptional, Father."
"You seem to be collecting
exceptional human women. Do you have more of them on the ship or are you
limiting yourself to the two you have brought." Was that humor? Was his
father joking?
"Two seems manageable."
He made sure to keep his voice light, so his father would understand he was not
with La'an.
"I have been married to your
mother for a long time, Spock, so trust me when I say even one human will be unmanageable
from time to time." His tone was extremely gentle.
"But worth the
work?"
"Oh, yes." His
father pulled the chessboard back. "You are, however, just with the one,
correct?"
"As far as I know, Father.
But I am often dismal at 'reading the room' as Christine would say."
"Yes, a difficult thing
to master. I struggle with it from time to time."
His father was admitting a
weakness?
"Now, we shall focus on play,
yes?"
Spock met his father's eyes
and saw the years of discord between them, but also a new thing: hope, perhaps?
Or even just a willingness to finally—after all these years—try. "Yes. It
is your move, I believe."
##
Chapel wandered through the
house looking for someone to talk to. Spock was playing chess with Sarek—again.
She was doomed to be a chess widow.
La'an
had said she was going to borrow the neighbors' dog and go for a hike. Was that
a thing one did on vacation? Borrow other people's dogs?
She finally found Amanda on
the side porch. She looked like she was napping so she turned around to sneak away
without waking her, when she heard, "You and I haven't much alone time, Christine.
Was that by design or accident?"
She stopped, frozen, trying
to read the tone. The words were a little bitchy—or could they be considered
hurt?
"A little of both
maybe."
"Come sit." She closed
her eyes again. "Did you ever meet T'Pring?"
"Quite a few times. Even
spent some time talking to her."
Amanda's eyes opened at that.
"Really? You...were friends?"
"I wouldn't go that far.
I think for her it might have been more a case of 'keep your friends close and
your enemies closer.'"
She laughed. "Yes, that
I could imagine. What did you think of her?"
Oh, man. This was potentially
a swamp she was being asked to wade through. "What did you think of
her?"
"Clever girl. But I asked
first."
Sighing, Christine said,
"The first thing I noticed was how goddamn beautiful she is."
"And the second?"
"How much she loved Spock."
That haunted her sometimes. That she'd stolen Spock away.
"I'm not sure she did,
darling." There was no spin of sarcasm on the endearment. She sounded like
she meant it. "I honestly think she was obsessed with him. Perhaps
dangerously so."
Chapel decided to dive into
the deep end of the swamp. "I didn't get the impression you two liked each
other."
"She betrayed someone I
cared deeply about. She did it for her own gain. It was the last of similar
acts I saw all through her childhood and adolescence. There was nothing she
would not do to get Spock."
"Are you telling me to
watch my back?"
"Not in the literal
sense. She's not going to attack directly. She's far too clever. But if she can
get him back, she will. If she'd settled on poor Stonn, she'd have announced
their engagement by now." She ran her hands through her hair. "I had
no gray hair before I had children to worry about."
"At least Spock and his
dad are talking." Thanks to La'an.
"Yes, at least there's
that."
##
Pike was fixing drinks for their
last night on vacation. Una, Leanna, and Joseph were sprawled around the living
room and dining room. Tired from the very long ride he'd taken them on—even making
Joseph leave his beloved fishing poles and come with them.
The front door chime went off
and he frowned. He was too far away from anyone to get many visitors.
"I'll get it," Una
said. "You keep mixing those drinks."
Just as he realized who might
be at the door, she was already at it.
Fuck.
"Captain Batel," Una said, loudly enough for everyone to hear. "You've
got a visitor, Chris."
He abandoned the drinks and
caught the two of them before they were too far from the door. "No."
"No?" Batel said. "No?" She looked at Una, then at Leanna
and Joseph, who were off the couch and staring at the two women, no doubt
wanting to be supportive to Una.
"No. Get out."
"Let's talk outside. For
old time's sake." She put a world of sensuousness into her voice, and he
glanced at Una to see what she thought.
Frankly, she looked bored.
"It's getting cold outside. Talk here if you really need to." Then
she walked away and said, "Let me finish up for Chris, since he's abandoned
our drinks. The price of being a great man's girlfriend, I guess."
He bit back a smile. Ballsy
ass move and he loved it.
Batel clearly didn't. "Oh. I see."
"What you and I had
wasn't..."
She held up a hand. "No.
Not going to have this discussion. After you ignored all my comms, I thought I
should work things out with my friend, not my sometime lover. But clearly you
don't need to."
He felt like he was the one
on trial now. "You could have given me a heads-up. That you were arresting
her. She could have been prepared."
"That's not how arrests
work and you know it. And so does she, frankly. You're the one who wasn't
prepared. You've been different, and you won't tell me why. Is she the
reason?"
He'd told Spock. He'd told Una.
He'd told Joseph and Leanna. But he had not told this woman who occasionally shared
his bed. She was a colleague with benefits, nothing more. "No. She's not
the reason."
He walked to the door and
pulled it open. It was mean to make her call for beam-out outside, but hey, she
shouldn't drop in on people if she didn't want things to be awkward.
In fact, "We're over. Whatever
it was we had. In case that wasn't clear."
"I'm not the one who
broke the law, Chris. You're lucky you weren't charged with aiding and
abetting. I talked them out of charging you. So don't act like I'm the enemy
here." And then she walked away. She was nearly to the road when she
pulled out her communicator, then disappeared.
He went in and shut the door.
Una was still in the kitchen, her hand shaking as she cut up limes.
"I've got it." He pulled
her in and kissed her cheek. "I'm sorry."
"We both have pasts, Chris.
That's not the problem. I just...I just wasn't expecting to see her."
She held up her hand and seemed to be studying it. "Maybe I do need to see
the therapist about this.
"It's helping La'an."
"Yes, it is. Where is La'an?
I didn't even ask her where she was going."
"I'm sure she's fine.
But not as fine as we are."
"Right, they're not
being made to go on forced death-marches."
"On horseback is not a
march."
"Well, the horses might
disagree." She laughed as he pulled her closer. "I really like horses,
by the way."
His smile was huge.
"You're not just saying that?"
"I'm not."
"Hey, you two, get a
room. But not before you bring us our drinks."
He let go of Una and turned
to Leanna. "Wait, I thought you couldn't drink?" The treatment must have
been a bust. "I'm so sorry—"
"Belay that, Chris. She
complained so much, I tweaked the formula to get rid of the interactions with alcohol.
We're still in trial period."
"And is it working?"
"What part of still in
trial period is unclear?" Leanna smiled at him gently. "You'll know
when we do."
"If she chooses to
share. She does not have to." Joseph: ever the doctor.
"Understood, Doc. Understood."
##
Chapel danced on the beach in
skimpy shorts and a bikini top. The house was their own until they reported
back to the ship in the morning. Sarek had been called away and Amanda had joined
him, but she left them with hugs all around and promises to not be strangers.
She missed them—kind of—but the
moon was full and a very nice bottle of bourbon that La'an
had bought on her hike was half gone, and Spock was so at peace.
In a way that she'd never
seen him. How must it have shaped who he was to know he couldn't talk to his
father? She couldn't imagine being cut off from the people you loved that way.
La'an
was wearing a super short skirt and a tube top. Her hair was loose and wavy
from the most recent elaborate braid Amanda had put it in. She'd even showed Chapel
how to do the ones she didn't already know.
They were both barefoot, kicking
sand up as they passed the bottle back and forth. Spock suddenly took off his sandals
and waded into the water, up to mid shin. He let wave after wave crash over
him, adjusting as the water ran out, taking sand with it.
Chapel pulled La'an to her. "You're a rockstar. I don't know how you
got Sarek to loosen up and I don't care. I just love you so much right
now."
"Awww,
that's nice." La'an took a long pull of the bottle and was handing it back
when Spock intercepted it.
To Chapel's shock, he also
took a long pull before handing it to her. "I do not see the attraction of
this beverage." But then he put his hands on either side of La'an's face and said, "Christine is right. I owe you
a great debt."
"Let me sleep with her
then."
"Not that big a
debt."
La'an laughed. "Let me
sleep with you."
Chapel made a "ball's in
your court" expression at him.
"No," he said, but
he ran his hand down her hair. "There is a third option."
Chapel almost spewed bourbon all
over everyone. He wasn't even drunk and he'd said that.
La'an smiled gently. "I
know, but I'm not ready to ask that. I know the answers to the other two will
always be no."
Chapel pulled her back for a
sloppy hug. "I really do love you so much right now."
Spock carefully untangled
them. "My mother enjoyed you, La'an.'
"More than me, I think."
Chapel said.
"Well, La'an is not
sleeping with me so it is far less complicated for her." He seemed to
realize two sets of eyes were heavily scrutinizing him. "That was badly
stated. Mother's get 'weird' about their sons, do they not. That is how my
sister used to put it and I believe she was right."
"Okay, I was worried
there." Chapel sank down to the ground and settled the bottle securely in
the sand.
Spock sat next to her and put
his arm around her. "I believe she approves of you, too, Christine. She
will become warmer the longer we are together. She may fear you are a
rebound."
"You dumped T'Pring for Christine,
not the other way around." La'an kind of collapsed rather than sat on the
other side of Christine and nearly knocked the bottle over.
Spock saved it.
"My hero." She leaned
back on her elbows, staring at the moon. "It's gorgeous here. Thank you
for inviting me."
"Thank you for
accepting." Spock looked out at the waves. "It is an odd sensation.
To let go of pain. To free yourself from resentment."
"Preaching to the choir,
my friend." La'an looked over at Chapel. "You're the most well adjusted one here."
"Oh, I probably wouldn't
say that."
"No, she is right."
He lay down and put his head in Chapel's lap. "I wish to know how it feels
to have you play with my hair."
"I play with your hair
all the time when we're alone." And making love, generally. Maybe it would
feel different here, on this moonlit beach, with people he could trust. She started
to play, then winked at La'an so she'd know to join in.
Two pairs of hands, so many
fingers—Chapel envied him. He moaned and she thought he wasn't even aware he'd
done it.
Suddenly barking sounded
behind them, and a dog rushed onto the beach.
La'an
was up instantly, reaching into her skirt and bringing out an antitox pack. She
popped a pill into her mouth. "Damn it all. I'm for sure making up a
citation for these idiots now. Do you think the captain would consider a mascot
for the Enterprise?"
"No," Spock said,
still blissfully enjoying Chapel's ministrations.
"Fine, then I am going
to rain down hell on these people. But maybe not right this instant." And
she was off, running down the beach like some ocean nymph, the dog leaping
beside her, barking happily.
Spock sat up and they both
watched her. "Just when I believe I have come to understand her, another facet
reveals itself."
"I know. It's fascinating."
She laughed into his mouth as he kissed her.
"Get a room, you
two!" La'an yelled, getting further and further away as she flung a piece
of driftwood for the dog.
Eventually, they did. Leaving
her to enjoy the dog—and to rain hell on its owners—in peace.
Epilogue
T'Pring was sitting in her
office when she heard voices in the corridor. She assumed they would pass her
by, but then there was a soft knock on the door. "Enter."
Sulok, the head of the facility stood with a human she did
not recognize. "T'Pring, this is Doctor Roger Korby."
She nodded to Korby then
turned back to Sulok, letting a rising eyebrow be the
question of what exactly did her superior want from her.
"I am assigning you to
work with Doctor Korby since you have experience with humans."
She practically froze; was
this some kind of idiocy?
Sulok gestured for Korby to take a chair in T'Pring's
office. "I'll let him explain it to you. If you need anything, Doctor
Korby, please let me know." He included T'Pring in his look when he said,
"The Vulcan Science Academy made it quite clear Doctor Korby was to be given
all access to health records."
What would this human have to
do with Vulcan's premier institute? She waited until Sulok
was gone and then turned her gaze on Korby.
He was studying her, his look
appraising. "Do you know why I'm here?"
"No."
"On Earth, I was working
on an immune system project. Protection against viruses. A universal, intrinsic
vaccine, if you will."
"Interesting." It
was not—not to her, at any rate. She rarely was ill.
"I can tell you're not
impressed. It has potential to be used for auto-immune or degenerative diseases.
Such as, say, Bendii Syndrome."
"Few Vulcans suffer from
this syndrome."
"But those who do are an
embarrassment, are they not?"
"I do not believe that
is how the doctors would state it."
"How would you state it?
I mean if things had continued for you as they were supposed to, you would be
marrying into a family with that syndrome inherent in its genetic make-up. I
should think a cure would be of interest."
She had to keep from visibly
bristling, and resented the need to protect Spock and his family that ran
through her. "I have no idea how you know of my...personal history. But as
you said, it is not my current path. It is irrelevant to me if a certain family
is particularly susceptible."
He leaned forward. "Oh,
but it might be."
"I do not follow. Your
cryptic way of communicating is not efficient."
"I agree. So let me
speak like a Vulcan. You were once engaged to Spock. I planned to eventually
marry Christine Chapel once she got a little older and I was ready to settle down.
Now, both those engagements are off as the two of them have found each other.
It is the greatest irony that he suggested I come to Vulcan—greased the wheels
a bit, even. For I intend to get my mate back from him. Do you intend the same?
Because if so, we can be of use to each other." He leaned back, a strange
smile on his face.
"And what of your
project?"
"Less than one percent
of Vulcans will ever develop Bendii Syndrome. One does
not become as famous as I am by focusing on things that only help one percent
of the population."
"I could tell my supervisor
what you have said."
"Your word against
mine."
"I could show him
in a mind meld. Are you familiar with those?"
"I am. I hadn't counted
on you immediately going to that as an option—was under the impression they
were rarely used. Will you do that? It will undoubtedly get me kicked off
Vulcan and out of your hair."
She leaned back and steepled
her fingers, studying him. "You plan to get Christine back without hurting
Spock's reputation?"
"Yes. Or hers. I can't,
after all, be married to a woman with a sullied professional image." He
smiled at her in a way she felt was very predatory. "What do you say? Your
brilliance, my brilliance—let's cause some trouble."
She felt herself smiling ever
so slightly and did not try to stop it. This man was an x-factor. She did not
think that Sybok would have factored him in. But not everything that happened could
be attributed to Sybok's interfering. She had watched
Spock's fascination with Christine grow right in front of her. "Have you
seen your former fiancée with mine? Their chemistry is palpable."
"Chemistry can be
broken."
"How?"
"I prefer to keep my
ideas to myself for now."
His hubris was both
intriguing and deeply annoying. But what if he was right? What if he could get Christine
back and she Spock?
"I find myself curious,
Doctor Korby."
"Call me Roger."
"In private, perhaps.
Not in public. And not yet. And...we must never speak of this confederation between
us in front of anyone." Especially not Stonn—what would he think of her if
she did this? Did she care if it meant she could have Spock back? "I have enemies
who have ears in many places. They do not want me with Spock."
"Understood." He
shook his head. "Now, what say we put our heads together and figure out
where Spock and Christine's chemical bonds are weakest."
FIN