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