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 Normal

by Djinn

Una nearly collapsed in one of Chris's comfortable chairs, exhausted from hours of people after spending so much time alone in the holding facility. She was a little shocked at how many of the crew had cycled through her party. She'd expected the bridge crew to show up out of obligation—maybe the section heads too. But it had been a lot more than that.

Was she...was she liked? She'd always assumed she was feared and respected, but liked was a whole new thing.

It might take some getting used to.

A glass of whisky was pressed into her hand and she looked up at Chris. "Scotch?"

"Would you let me live if it was anything else?" He was smiling in that new way, his hand touching hers for way longer than it ever would have before. Then he moved away and sat in his usual chair. "I'm bushed."

"Yeah, well cooking on top of getting me freed was idiotic."

"Nyah, cooking is never idiotic. Especially not for you." He stretched his legs out and groaned in the half happy, half exhausted way she'd come to know.

She'd logged all his various expressions and vocalizations long ago. It was what a good first officer did. It had nothing to do with any other feelings she might have—or at least that was what she always told herself.

Both of their communicators pinged and as she pulled hers out, she heard him groan. Her heart sank. "What now?" she asked as she opened the link.

It was a vid of her trial, or the end of it anyway. The speech the admiral had given about rethinking the relationship with Illyrians. It was sent by a group with the ridiculous name of "Augments Rule."

"Damn stupid name," Chris said as he put his communicator away. He went back to drinking with his eyes half closed.

"But it's the actual footage." Had they been sitting in the courtroom? She could feel panic rising—would Starfleet think she was behind this. "I had nothing to do with this." There was a note of panic in her voice she almost didn't recognize. "Chris, it wasn't me."

He was out of his chair and crouching in front of her so fast he might have been augmented. "Hey, no one is ever going to believe you'd come up with a lame-ass name like that."

She laughed, even though the panic wasn't receding. "I don't want to go back." Shit, had she just said that? And, oh hell no—was she crying?

What was wrong with her? Where was the strong officer she'd been for all these years? "Chris, I'm sorry, I don't know what my problem is."

"I had a mustang once," he said, in the folksy way that meant a story about his house in the back of beyond was coming.

"I'm not a fucking horse, Chris."

"I know. Let me finish the story, Una. Jeez." He eased out of the crouch so he was sitting in front of her, crossing his legs. "I had a mustang once. She'd been wild but someone had gone into the protected lands and captured her. Someone who didn't like mustangs much. Once I got her, she was broken. And I don't mean broke to ride, I mean broken." He held up a hand before she could object. "Not saying you're broken. And for the love of God, let me finish."

She couldn't help it. She laughed. "Fine."

"I worked hard with her, sitting by the fence when she was in the corral, reading Jack London to her." He grinned at her eye-roll. "All my tricks—none of them worked. I finally decided the best thing would be to let her go, take her back to the protected lands and see if she could reintegrate."

"Did she?"

"No. She wouldn't even get out of the trailer. I finally called in a very special favor and had her beamed out and set down nearer to the herd."

"Please tell me they didn't attack her."

"They ran away from her. Her fear was contagious."

"This is not a good story, Chris."

"It is, though. Because she had a choice—go after the herd or come back to me. And she turned and trotted back to me. She bit me once she got there, but she chose me. She's was my favorite horse after Tango." He smiled gently at her. "Sometimes, when you live inside a fence, it's hard to see when the posts finally get pushed down. It's hard to see when you're free. That the choice is finally yours who you want to be.

"Una, you carved out the amazing career you did being terrified of discovery, and that explains a few interactions we had when we were younger that never went anywhere." He mock glared at her. "Just imagine what you can do now that you're free."

He reached over for his drink, but it was too far away, so she grabbed it and handed it to him. He took a long sip, his expression a considering one. "I have no idea how they got the footage, but Starfleet records all trials. Maybe they hacked it, maybe someone was recording for them. Maybe the panel or someone in the defense liaison office leaked it to them. Who knows? And who cares at this point? You're free. They can't come after you. And Starfleet should rethink their policy regarding Illyrians. End of story."

"They won't though."

"No, they probably won't." He studied her. "But you're okay. Even if I can't promote you back where you belong for eighteen months."

His certainty was comforting. The easy way he was dealing with this even more so.

She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes.

"We're going to talk about the other things soon, Una. Not tonight because I want us to be operating on something other than exhaustion and triumph. But soon."

"What other things?" She could barely keep a straight face and she kept her eyes closed because looking at him would equal cracking up.

Or maybe something else. Maybe not wanting to wait until they were more themselves. Because the old him...

"You never wanted me." Oh, for God's sake, had she just said that out loud?

"See, that's why we're not going to discuss this tonight. Because that's an asinine statement and you know it. How many times have I dropped everything because it was you in trouble? I left my self-imposed exile because you'd gone missing, for cripe's sake, Una. Now, shut up and finish your drink, and then we're going to do the dishes."

"But it's my party." She didn't really mind though. Doing dishes was an activity she found very soothing, and he knew that.

"Yeah, well that'll teach you to get demoted." He stretched out on the floor. "It wasn't right without you here. Ship didn't feel right."

"I missed the ship." She took another sip. "I missed everything about it."

"Fleet to the last cell." He was smiling. "Don't let me fall asleep."

She did though. He was snoring on the floor as she went and did the dishes, enjoying the sense of accomplishment as his quarters returned more and more to normal. He woke up when she was midway through. "Una, I told you we were going to do it together."

"Yeah, but you don't boss me when we're off duty." She smiled at him in a way she never had and then handed him the dishtowel. "Dry."

He got very, very close to her as he reached around for a plate. "Mmm, I missed your scent."

"I don't wear perfume."

"I didn't say your perfume."

"You've been living out in the wild too long. You think you're some kind of wolf now?"

"Nope, just a man who knows what a woman who's very, very important to him smells like." He reached around her again. "You could say I smell good, too, Una. Do I have to do all the work?" Then before she could say anything, he was putting the plate in its cabinet and off to gather the trash for the recycler.

She waited a long time before saying breezily, "You smell all right, I guess."

His bark of truly amused laughter made her grin.

"No danger of you getting sappy, it seems." He put the last of the glasses on the counter. "Can't even tell there was a party here."

She pointed to a wine stain on his favorite sheepskin.

"Damn it."

"Bring it here. I'll get it out." She always got the wine stains out. He was too impatient. He could stir forever until a sauce was just right but was hopeless at waiting for the special anti-stain solution she'd made for him to do its work.

He tossed her the sheepskin. "We're a good team, Una."

"News to no one." She was enjoying not making it easy on him.

And apparently so was he because he was grinning like a fool as he came to dry the last of the dishes.

##

Spock lay on his side next to Christine, gently scratching her back as she lay on her stomach. "We did well today."

"We really did." She sounded both happy and exhausted. "When they let you come up and answer questions too—the prosecutor was about to come out of his skin he was so mad."

"Yes, that was my observation as well. Most satisfying."

She turned on her side so they were face to face. "So I have a question—or maybe just an observation. You punched Barjon T'or—and that poor innocent panel"—she gave him a very silly smile and he traced her lips with his finger—"but with Roger you just...talked. About science, even."

"He is most interesting." Then he realized what she might be saying. "Did you want me to strike him?"

"Want, no. But I didn't know if you would. And you let La'an kiss me."

"You let La'an kiss you. I simply observed. As I have said." He began to stroke her hair, enjoying how the waves felt under his fingers.

"But you didn't get mad is my point. You said, when we were in the corridor after the memorial, that you couldn't control the emotions. But it seems to me you're doing just fine controlling them. I imagine you seem—to those not lying in bed with you, anyway—totally Vulcan."

He almost smiled at the idea of it. "I have stopped trying to be it and now I am." He pulled her to him and kissed her. "Perhaps it is easier for me to be Vulcan when there are none around."

"Point taken. But you're no different than you were before except...are you at peace now?"

He pulled her closer, hitched her leg over his hips and eased into her. "At the moment?" he whispered as he began to move.

"Well, maybe—not—right at—this moment." She quit talking, just rode out what he was doing to her. He loved the way she held him, her kisses, how she buried her face in his chest when she came, how he buried his in her hair when he did. "Yes, I am at peace."

"Well, yeah, right this second, of course you are." She actually knocked him gently on the side of the head as she had that time in the lounge. "But overall."

"I cannot think of overall when I am inside you."

"Really?" She sounded utterly charmed; he must remember she liked that sentiment.

"Yes. The present is all I care about at the moment." He pulled her closer instead of slipping out. She might think he had not felt jealous of Korby—or La'an—but she was mistaken. He could feel his body responding to her, to the idea that others wanted her. It was highly satisfying, and he would share that with her, would make her know she was his when she climaxed this time.

It took her longer to come back than it did him, but not by much and as he sent her up and up, as she clutched his back so hard he knew he would have nail marks in his skin, he murmured, "You are mine," over and over until they both lay still.

"I love you so much." She kissed him gently, her eyes half closed, and he could feel how tired she was.

"And I you, Christine. And I you."

As she slept, he considered her point. Was he more himself now, with her, than he had been with T'Pring? With T'Pring, he had been constantly...fearful of being less than. With Christine, he felt that together they were whole. Even watching her with La'an had felt different than knowing that with T'Pring there also had been Stonn vying for her attention.

He had never felt on a level playing field with Stonn, even if ultimately he had won the competition. But Christine had never been with La'an, and there had been plenty of time for them both to reach out. They might be oddly intimate for friends, but he believed Christine had not asked for more from La'an because she could not offer her more in return.

She'd had no such issue with him. He would be able to tell if she was holding back and she was not.

And he had stopped moderating himself with her—if he ever had, other than to stop himself from reaching for more than a man betrothed to another should try to take. He had shared his secrets with her.

He trusted her.

Had he ever truly trusted T'Pring? His mother had not but his father had been proud of the union. She was a fine woman of good character and exceeding grace and beauty. For his half-human son—what a coup it must have seemed.

He knew his father would be disappointed when he heard T'Pring had broken the engagement.

But Spock was used to disappointing Sarek.

##

T'Pring and Stonn were seated in the most exclusive restaurant in ShiKahr, enjoying an evening to themselves after time with family. Separate time with family—she was not ready to release Spock, and Stonn did not consider himself sufficiently wooed to accompany her to her parents for a meal. Which was why they were in this place at this, the perfect hour for a meal, being seated at this, the most perfect of tables.

She had to pull strings for him. She had thought he would enjoy that idea—and the gleam in his eyes as they sat confirmed it.

"Thank you," he murmured once the host had left them. "So much work."

"You are worthy of effort, Stonn." She touched his hand, a glancing passing of skin on skin but still significant.

She saw Stonn look behind her, almost in warning, and then heard: "T'Pring, who is your friend?" Spock's mother's voice behind her; she did not turn, forcing the woman to come around and stand before them like a server.

"Amanda, I trust you are well."

"I prosper. And you? And my son? I have not heard from him recently."

"Nor have I." It was said in the manner of rebuke, which was unfair since T'Pring had delayed the announcement of the dissolution of their betrothal. But she did not care. Especially not with this woman, who she had tried so hard to win over but to no avail.

"I'm sure he's very busy on that ship of his."

"It is not his ship, unless he made captain and I am unaware of it."

"My, you're in a mood." Amanda turned to Stonn. "It is clear my dear future daughter-in-law is not going to introduce us. I am Spock's mother."

"Amanda, it is Stonn. He spent summers in your kitchen." T'Pring felt a surge of annoyance with the woman. Why could she not just leave them alone?

"Stonn, but my goodness. You've changed."

"Years will do that, ma'am." He sounded the same as when he was a boy, unsure how to deal with this human whirlwind when he was used to more settled Vulcan mothers.

"Indeed. I mean who would have thought T'Pring would turn into such a beauty? You were such a scrawny thing, T'Pring, always with the boys, short hair and dust on your hands."

"That was years ago. You have watched me change, Amanda. Surely you should not hold on to that image as your sole reference of me."

"Well, you did use my scissors to cut your hair. It's hard to forget."

T'Pring was not sure how to answer. Was she implying she had left some sort of stain on her personal item? This was how Amanda treated her, poison wrapped in smiles.

But then she had never wanted to link her son to her. She would no doubt have been a supporter of Leila Kalomi. What would she think of Chapel? Or did she already know and was needling her this way because T'Pring would not officially free her son?

Spock was not to have told anyone but Christine. They agreed.

"My wife, who are you with?" Sarek's voice coming up behind her, and T'Pring instantly sat straighter. "Ah, T'Pring. I trust you prosper even with my son's absence."

She wanted to share a look with Stonn; she did not. For all her threats to Spock about ruining his father, she was unnerved greatly by the man himself.

"You remember Stonn, don't you, Sarek?" Amanda's voice now was low and even. The acid gone, covered in syrup. "My how children grow."

"They have not been children for some time, my wife." He indicated a group waiting. "We must go. T'Pring. Stonn."

She let herself breathe once he was gone. "I regret their presence. I did not know."

"I know. It is fine."

"It is not fine. I...I dislike her so much, Stonn."

"I would say the feeling is mutual. My mother will be delighted to welcome you into our clan."

"Are you saying yes?"

"You have not asked me yet, T'Pring. And do not ask me after just interacting with your potential inlaws. That would be fair to none of us."

"Indeed. We shall enjoy our meal and forget they are here."

"I think it more likely we will ignore they are here. One does not forget such a thing." His words were firm, but his tone gentle.

"I stand corrected."

##

Amanda watched as T'Pring and Stonn interacted. They looked quite at ease with each other. Too at ease for a woman who was betrothed and a man who, as far as she knew, was not.

She made sure not to lose track of any conversational threads while she spied on the girl she'd never wanted for her son. Sarek would be quite put out with her if she didn't keep up appearances.

So she nodded seriously when her input was needed and enjoyed the exceptionally fine food the restaurant was known for.

This restaurant was not where one took causal friends for a catch-up. It was for solidifying things: negotiations, matchmaking, and other such things.

T'Pring and Stonn left before she did, and she watched them leave, the solicitious way Stonn watched her.

Damn it all, what had her son done now? T'Pring had been determined to get him, and Sarek had been only too pleased to say yes to her parents. She would never have been with Stonn in this kind of restaurant at the most popular hour for a meal unless Spock had somehow screwed things up.

Which would only make Sarek more disappointed in their son than he already was. Why didn't Spock have the sense that seemed innate in Michael?

Once home, she went to her private office and commed him.

He did not answer. She hated leaving messages—why did he no longer take her calls? What the hell was going on? "Spock," she left on the recording, "I just saw T'Pring and Stonn in Valava. Please tell me you have not done something ill conceived. Call me. At once. I am tired of you ignoring my calls."

He called back a few minutes later. She studied him as he started with his normal pleasantries and inquiries. "Oh stop it, Spock. You heard my message or you wouldn't have called back. What's going on?"

"It is not something I can yet speak of, Mother."

"Is your father going to be upset?"

"When is he not, Mother? Truly?" The way he said it surprised her. No emotion, no protesting, only acceptance that of course his father would be upset.

"Is that nice first officer still in prison?" This subject never failed to provoke a rise out of him, his sense of protectiveness.

"She has been released with minimal consequences. Christine and I were..." He met her eyes.

"Yes, Christine. You've mentioned her before."

"Have I? I do not recall." And then he did it—glanced toward his side.

"Spock, is she sitting right there? Get over here, young lady." She had no idea how young this woman really was, but there would be a conversation tonight.

Spock held out his hand—wait, her son was holding out his hand? His expression changed. Half sheepish but the other half so loving, even if it was by Vulcan standards. She was adept after this long at reading them. "Christine, you might as well come meet my mother."

"Hi, Spock's mom." Her words were silly, her smile infectious. She wasn't necessarily beautiful but she was the kind of woman who stopped you, who charmed you with her sparkling eyes and soft smile.

She reminded Amanda of herself when she was young, when she'd caught Sarek's eye with her take-no-prisoners attitude and contradictorily shy smile.

"So, you're Christine."

"That's me."

"Why are you in my son's quarters?"

Christine looked at Spock and he leaned in and said, "Swear on the wardrobe."

"Oh, Spock, we're quite a bit too old for C.S. Lewis."

"Then she will not answer."

Christine looked very confused but pretended to zip her lips. Amanda felt a rush of satisfaction at this gesture of unconditional support for her son.

"Fine, by the wardrobe." Which meant she could not, under any circumstances, tell Sarek about this. Spock had invoked this oath many times as a child, but it had been years since he'd last done so.

"These are her quarters too." He looked at Christine. "She is...she is who have chosen."

"You've...oh, Spock. You broke up with T'Pring?"

"I did. She is not ready to announce it."

"She's angry. And hurt." Christine looked uncomfortable. "This isn't something we meant to happen."

"You're telling me what happens when a handsome Vulcan and a lovely human get together? I think I know the tune." She smiled in a way that was self deprecating enough to put the other woman at ease. "His father will not be pleased."

"So I've gathered." She shrugged. "Good thing Vulcans don't celebrate the winter holidays."

"They do in my house." She rolled her eyes. "The one on Earth anyway. Oh, children, is this something you're sure about? Because if it is, I'm going to need to start poisoning T'Pring in my husband's mind. I do want you to at least get some sort of fair shake with him."

"You have never cared for T'Pring, Mother. I think you will enjoy the task."

"Oh, Spock. I'm wounded." But he wasn't wrong. She was going to relish the task. "So, Christine, tell me about yourself. Start with your last name."

As the young woman did what she was told, as Spock chimed in to add compliments, Amanda realized an amazing thing.

Her son was actually happy. A mother could tell these things.

She was grinning by the time they finished. "Are you sure I can't tell your father? It will be so much easier to poison T'Pring if I tell him you two are done."

"You swore. On the wardrobe." For a moment, she saw her little boy again, so earnest, so trusting.

"Oh fine. Good night, you two."

She turned off her terminal and went in to the salon, where Sarek was reading a padd. "Can I get you something, darling?"

"Tea would be most welcome." He bent his head back so she could kiss him on the lips. "What did you think of T'Pring being seen in Valava with a man other than our son?"

"Sarek, you're always telling me to be kinder about her. Now you want me to speculate on why she thought such a flagrant disregard for our son's reputation was a good idea? I feel like I can't win." She let him stew on that while she made the tea, then brought it out to him. "I added marigolds."

"Are they in season?"

"No, but I ordered some special for you. I know how you love them."

He took a sip and closed his eyes. "This is my favorite combination."

"I thought you and I were your favorite combination." She laughed gently.

"You are correct. This is next on the list." He frowned ever so slightly. "Do you believe T'Pring does not respect our son? She appeared...infatuated at times. It was most unseemly."

"She has always been one to let her passions drive her. One doesn't need to guess why she finds working continually with logic to be of such benefit. Physician, heal thyself and all that." She sat and picked up a padd. "Not that I'm saying she's...erratic."

"She can be impulsive."

"Like that time she cut her hair in our bathroom." And left hair all over the counter and floor for Amanda to clean up.

"I remember. A most unattractive look, but she did it to blend in with the boys. It was logical if elementary."

"Yes, she's always been able to fall back on logic to explain her passions. But I'm sure it's nothing. She would never insult us that way, would she?" And by us, she meant him. He'd arranged this stupid union so he'd take it personally if she appeared to be leaving it without the courtesy of talking to him first.

"I would hope not." He leaned back and sipped his tea slowly, in the way he did when he was disappointed in how a negotiation was going and was considering options to cut his losses if the two sides would not see sense. "Most disappointing to see them there."

"I agree with you of course, my dear." She didn't look up even though she sensed his eyes on her. "And Spock so far away. Do you think I should tell him?"

"No." It was said quickly, and she could tell Sarek was annoyed his plans for Spock's future might again be crumbling. But then, after another sip of tea, he said, "On the other hand, one would not want him blindsided by this. If he and I were on speaking terms, I might tell him myself."

"Understood, darling. I'll make sure he finds out."

"I miss him, Amanda." He said it softly, in a way that did not need a reply.

More importantly, she knew he didn't want one from her, didn't want to explore the way he missed his son. It was enough to hear him say it every so often.

She looked over, smiled gently, and said, "Let me get you another cup."

##

Chapel sat next to Spock in a booth in the lounge, her feet up on the seat opposite her, resting next to La'an. She was reading a genetics article on her padd while the other two played another game of chess.

She'd lost count how many they were up to.

They were so damn quiet when they played and it was a bit unnerving. She glanced at Spock, then over at La'an. They were both staring at the board—multiple levels of it. Chapel had no idea how the game worked and didn't want to learn.

Finally, she couldn't take the silence and said, "Who needs refills?" Anything to get up and interact with people who actually needed to talk once in a while.

"I am fine," Spock said.

La'an reached down absently and rubbed her shin. "I'll take another if you're up."

"I'm up. I'm so up. I may be up for a while, in fact." She hurried off before she had to listen to them not saying anything for one more second.

She saw Erica at the bar and hurried over to her. "If I ever again say I want to hang out with the two of them while they play chess, you must take it as a cry for help."

"Like you've been kidnapped and it's code for 'Everything is not all right'?"

"Yes, exactly like that." She nodded to the bartender and ordered herself an old fashioned and asked him to send a gin and tonic over to La'an. No way she was going to venture back there. Not unless every single person in this lounge left and it was them or nothing.

"Good thing, actually." Erica was grinning in the way that meant she was going to say something outrageous. "Crew would find three a really interesting number."

"Oh, come on."

"She rubbed your leg."

"Because I said I'd get her a drink. So I could come over here and hang with you."

"So I'm the other woman?" Erica was laughing in the way that said no matter which way Chapel went with this, she'd have a comeback.

"Fine, you're the other woman. The three of us were happy, but chess came between us, and now I'm seeking outside entertainment." She grabbed her drink as the bartender slid it down to her and lifted it to her lips. "Sweet nectar of the gods, preserve me from chess."

"I told you. Did I not tell you? 'Christine, you will be bored by chess. You will be even more bored watching people play it.' Did those words not pass these lips?"

"They did. I should have listened." She turned to look at La'an and Spock. "It's like this silent war. Only, they're both really enjoying it. Win or lose, they're so into it."

"Yeah, chess is like that."

"But why, Erica? Why?"

"I do not know." She glanced over to the corner. "Hey the pool table's free. You want to?"

"I so want to." She followed her over and nodded when Erica asked, "Nine ball?" She put her drink down, chalked up her cue, and laughed when Erica put the three ball down in front of her and chose the one ball for herself. "Poor lonesome you."

"Don't I know it. Lag it, sister."

They both shot their balls down the table, into the far end, and they rolled slowly back, with Erica's ending nearest the cushion. As Chapel went to rack up the ball for her break, Erica said, "Why do you even try, girl?"

She shrugged and went back to her drink, watching as Erica ran the table. This was the downside of playing with her. If she broke, odds were she won.

Chapel was less skilled at her shots but really lucky at putting the cue ball in places Erica had no chance of making a legal shot from. It was like a super power or something. Not a great one, compared to say an augmented immune system or super strength, but hey, you took what you were given.

"Yeah, it is tough to be me." Erica was looking down the lounge as she strutted. "The terrible two seem to be realizing you're not coming back."

"Do they seem to care?"

"Uh, maybe, maybe, maybe—nope. They're back to staring at the board."

"Okay, then. My break." For once she got lucky and sank the nine ball off the one. "That's right. Hustler here. Move it along, folks."

"That makes no sense."

Chapel racked the balls back up and said, "You were kidding about the crew thinking the three of us have something, right?" The crew had no need to know La'an often cuddled and occasionally kissed her. In front of Spock. And totally sober now.

Were they heading for a threesome? Somehow she didn't think so. She felt like something they were gently fighting over more than a partner in this. Not in a bad way, though. Like she was a key piece on that chessboard she didn't understand.

"I was kidding, Christine. They actually think Spock's dating both of you. But not at the same time. I mean yes, technically at the same time, but not in the same room. Wow, I've made this way too complicated. They basically think he's cheating on you."

"I'm right here. I'm always right here. Well, other than the times I'm not or when they play into morning."

"I hear you. The crew does not always get their facts right. But they sure are enjoying the telenovela playing out in front of them." She laughed as she broke, the hit so solid on the one ball it sent all the balls rolling, and several into pockets. She broke the way Chapel wished she could. When she hit that well, it was complete chance.

"So what are the crew going to do with us? Am I cheating on him with you?"

"I had not considered that angle." She was laughing. "Oh, what tangled webs we weave..."

Chapel saw the captain and Number One come into the lounge and order drinks at the bar. "Speaking of tangled webs—what's the story on them? I mean the Erica-analysis of the story."

"Okay but neither of them has ever said one word to me on this. But I've served with both for a while now and I see a lot."

"You see everything."

"Like I said. So she's a protocol junkie. It's seriously frowned upon for captain and first officer to hook up even though it happens a lot."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I mean, captains and first officers let down around each other, I guess. Anyway, she'd never, ever overreach but she's so gone on him. She thinks no one notices, and it's likely no one—including our esteemed captain—does. Other than me, of course."

"And is the captain into her?"

"He has a lot of 'close' friends, if you get my drift. Not unlike you, no strings and all that—only he actually appears to like the people he sleeps with, as far as I can tell." She rolled her eyes at Chapel's glare and looked over at the table, far away from anyone else, that the captain and Number One had chosen. "But something's changed. He lost her, and I think he realized what he had right in front of him. Moron."

Chapel glanced over at their table. They were only talking but the eye contact was intense. "I concur. Something has definitely changed."

"Don't need your concurrence, dollface. I'm always right about these things." She turned back to the game and actually screwed up the shot, bad enough to miss her target entirely and give Chapel ball in hand. "Well, shit."

"You never do that."

"First time for everything."

"Erica." She moved close and tipped up her chin so she could study her. "Which one of them do you like?"

"I crush on everybody, Chapel. It's how I roll."

"Which one?"

"Him, actually. Which I really don't get because generally I prefer the female persuasion, but he's funny and nurturing and cooks."

"He's like the best of both worlds."

"Right. Damn his perfect hair."

"I'm sorry." She pulled her in for a hug. "Your person is out there."

"If you don't let go of me, the crew will think it's you." But Erica leaned into the hug, squeezing tightly. "I'm glad Spock and La'an are obsessed with that stupid game. I've missed you."

"Same here."

##

Pike laughed as Una sipped her scotch. "If you don't relax, you're going to break something."

"We're not usually in here—at these tables."

"Ah, yes, lovers' lane, or so I've heard it called by the younger set." The tables in this section were set farther apart, the aspect of privacy encouraging conversation and relaxation.

She rolled her eyes. "They're all staring at us."

He looked around. No one really was, but a few people noticed him looking and smiled or lifted a hand in greeting. "Nope, they don't care." He leaned forward. "We haven't really talked about what this might be."

"I wasn't sure you wanted to." She studied him the way she always had and he relaxed. This was the Una he loved. The one who let him get away with exactly nothing.

"I didn't want to rush it. You just got back." He looked down. "And I have a shelf life."

"We all have a shelf life, Chris. You just happen to know when yours is. If it really is when you think. Which I'll believe when it happens."

He shrugged. "I really think it is."

"Okay, I accept that. But I have a question. And I don't want a quick answer. I'd be rotting in a correctional facility without you getting Leanna to help me. What if I make sure to be there, where you are, to help you—"

"I can't evade my fate." He leaned in and took her hand, not caring who might be watching. "It's—I saw more of the future. What happens if I change things. It's not good."

"You dying isn't good."

"I'm one man. This was way more than that." He didn't break the look he was giving her; it was the one that meant he wasn't joking or guessing. This was a truth. His truth.

"But you're one man who I don't want to lose."

"And that's the other reason I haven't rushed. Have you thought of how this will feel, when it happens?"

"You think we'll last that long?" If anyone else said it, it'd be a joke. She was asking in earnest.

"I do. Don't you?" He squeezed her hand. "Is there someone else? I assumed not but maybe that was stupid? You're beautiful and brilliant and—"

"There's no one else, Chris." She looked down but didn't pull her hand away—instead turned it, so their hands were palm to palm, there fingers twining. "I just had occasional things. Nothing that mattered. I couldn't do that to someone, knowing I wasn't what I said."

"But now it's out. And I don't care."

"I know, and I love that you don't."

"Do you think we could last that long? Until the end of me?"

She didn't answer quickly and he adored that about her. "It will be so hard not to try to fix this. It's what I do. I fix things so your life is easier."

"I know." He leaned in. "But you can't."

"It's not in my nature to sit still when I can act."

"I know." He sighed and tried to pull his hand away.

She held on, and he realized this was the real Una—so strong he couldn't pull away. "So, sir, I guess if it's going to work, you'll just have to keep me really well distracted."

"I can cook."

"Cooking's good. What else can you do?"

"Oh, there are other rooms to cook in than the kitchen." He knew his smile was a teasing one, a flirtatious one. He'd never been this way with her.

He liked being this way with her.

By her grin, she liked him being this way with her too. But then the grin faded. "You have to promise to tell me if it's not working, okay? You've been through a lot, and this may be what you need right now but not for that long and—"

He shut her up by kissing her. Right there in the middle of lovers' lane. It wasn't a long kiss, but it was a good one.

They pulled away slowly.

He looked around. "Still no one staring at us." Although he bet this would be making the rounds of the lower decks within the hour. "You have to promise me the same thing. If, for instance, that kiss just repulsed you."

"Yeah, not my cup of tea. Sorry."

"Damn. Should I practice on someone else?"

"No, practice on me, sir." And then she shocked him by pulling him—a little too roughly: this was going to take some getting used to—to her and kissing him for a lot longer than he'd kissed her. "Hmmm, you'll do, I guess."

She was grinning in the most adorably mischievous way, a sexy look he'd never seen before. A look he loved, that he wanted to see more of.

"So, Una Chin-Riley, you want to dance?"

"There's no music."

"I didn't mean here." He was grinning like an idiot and didn't care one bit. "I happen to have music in my quarters."

"I thought you'd never ask."

They tried to be casual as they left the lounge. He was pretty sure they failed.

##

Una woke alone but could smell all her favorite breakfast things cooking. She slipped one of Chris's t-shirts on, finished taking off what little makeup was left after their first night together, and walked out to him.

"Wow, that t-shirt has never looked so good." He gestured to her favorite stool and put a mug of coffee fixed the way she liked it in front of her. "Guatemalan."

"Yum." She sipped and watched him cook.

"For what it's worth, I didn't want to leave you, but I got restless, and you looked too peaceful to wake up for more fun and games." His smile was gentle. "I figured you'd wake up when you smelled the bacon."

"And I did." Usually, she was the one who slept very little while the rest of the crew crashed out for their whole third rotation. But she hadn't really slept that well in the holding cell or even in her quarters. But lying next to him, having him curled against her back, talking softly about the old days, rubbing her leg—she'd been out like a light.

He dished up plates, and put them in their normal spots, then walked around the counter, swiveled her stool so she could wrap her legs around him and pull him in. Carefully—she was still learning how much force to use with him. She'd been hiding her strength all this time but in the holding cell, she'd stopped. She was augmented and super strong. At the time, it seemed like it might be a useful trait to be known for if the case had worked out differently and she ended up on a penal colony. A "don't mess with me" kind of thing.

And now—now she didn't want to go back to hiding it. Spock had super strength too. It might be fun to see which of them was actually stronger.

But not right at this moment. She lifted her face to Chris's kiss and played with his hair, which was actually not perfect anymore. "So, hairs do get out of place."

"Don't start. You think I wake up as gorgeous as I am on the bridge?" He was laughing as he said it. "You, on the other hand, do." He gently traced her cheeks, then her lips. "Do you care if breakfast gets cold?"

"Not one damn bit."

"You got anything on under that t-shirt?"

"No, sir."

"Oh, Una, why the hell did we wait for this?" He was already opening his robe—conveniently he also had nothing on underneath—and moving into her, slowly, in a rhythm they'd discovered they both liked.

He kissed her and she moaned, pulling him closer, holding him tighter—easing up this time before he groaned.

"You're always such a quick study," he whispered into her ear as he sped up, as he moved harder, as they both got louder until they went quiet other than breathing hard. He wrapped his arms around her so tightly she thought she'd never again feel as safe as she did right now.

"I love you, Una. I'm glad my cousin is so damn good. I'm not sure what I would have done without you."

"Eat hot breakfasts."

"Don't. Don't make it a joke. We only have—"

"I'm sorry. I'm so used to doing that. It was a defense mechanism. Kept people from getting too close, from figuring me out." She pulled him back, gave him the tenderest kiss she was capable of. "But we don't know how much time we have unless you saw what happens to me too. Did you?"

"No."

"Then the future isn't written in stone because I could die tomorrow. For the record, I'd be really pissed if I died tomorrow because I am really, really happy right now. But the days won't get more precious as we get closer to your end, you know? Because we ultimately don't know how long I'll be around." She made a face. "Which is as good a pep talk as your stupid mustang story. What I mean is I plan to treasure every moment. And I promise I'll stop deflecting when you say sweet things to me. And, Christopher Pike, I love you too."

"Killer ending on the pep talk." His smile was luminous. "All right, Commander, eat up. I won't have you making me late for shift."

Despite how he kept pulling her to him for kisses while they ate, they did manage to make it to shift change on time.

##

T'Pring sat at the patio table with her parents, enjoying breakfast outside before it grew too hot.

"T'Spara contacted me yesterday," her mother said during a lull in conversation.

"Oh?"

"She approves of you and Stonn rekindling your childhood affinity. But she worries at the message it sends."

Her father looked up. T'Spara was Stonn's mother. She had lobbied him heavily for her son. And he had supported Stonn over Spock.

He had of course yielded to T'Pring's preference and the fact that her mother supported her in it.

"What message is that, Mother?"

"That you are either unsatisfied with your current betrothal but have not seen fit to say anything to us. Or you are toying with Stonn and his longstanding regard for you."

"I would not toy with him. He is important to me. Crucial even."

Both her parents stopped eating, staring at her with lifted eyebrows.

It was time. Time to end this farce. She was harming Stonn's reputation in her desire for revenge on Spock. "I am indeed dissatisfied with my current matrimonial path. I have severed it."

The eyebrows went even higher.

"Stonn and I need time to explore what is between us. There will not be a hasty announcement." She looked at her mother. "But you must, of course, assure T'Spara that all is well."

Both her mother and father looked immensely satisfied.

"Now, I must inform Spock of my decision."

"He may react..." Her father shook his head.

"Yes, I know. In a way most human. You speak truth, Father. His...emotionalism is a primary factor in my decision to dissolve our agreement." Her mother would no doubt inform T'Spara of that too. She rose. "You will excuse me?"

She sat at the desk in her room, staring at the terminal, composing herself for this last communication. Then she entered his comm code.

He answered but not immediately. He had no shirt on. He also probably had no pants on. His hair was mussed in the way she remembered from when they had enjoyed sexual relations. Christine was no doubt out of frame, in his bed.

"T'Pring?"

"I have told my parents our engagement is over. Do you wish for me to tell your father or will you?" It was a low blow. He and his father had not spoken, other than when absolutely necessary, for years.

"I will tell my mother."

"Allow me."

"Your potential enjoyment of that interaction is fascinating, T'Pring. And disconcerting. What has my mother done to you?"

And she could tell by something in his eyes, some sign she had learned to read during their courtship, that he had already told his mother.

Or more likely his mother asked him and would not give up until he finally gave in. It was a failing of his. One of many.

"Am I to take it she knows?"

"Yes, but I did not volunteer the information. You know—you know how she is."

"I do. And yet you ask me why I might want to inform her that her son was not to my taste." Only he probably also told her that it was not her idea to separate. "You can tell your parents, Spock. Do not make me the villain in this with them even if publicly our story differs. And be sure they support—in public at any rate—the story I tell of our estrangement. You know the cost if I find myself humiliated."

"You have made it quite clear." He stared at her. "I regret we part with acrimony."

"Then you should not have chosen another while we were affianced."

He nodded.

"Live long and prosper, Spock." And she cut the connection.

Then waited.

The ping came sooner than she expected. The last stilted comm she would ever have to have with this woman. "Hello, Amanda."

"So, he's free of you?"

"I'm free of him. Or did he not tell you how this story will be told."

"Oh, he told me. But we can speak freely now, can't we?"

"Yes, and it will be both novel and a pleasure." She leaned in. "He chose another. Your...child could not remain faithful."

"My child is a child no more. And he is no longer a boy of two worlds. He's found his world, and it's neither mine nor yours. It's Starfleet."

And her, the human, the better choice—she could see the words in Amanda's eyes even if she left them unsaid.

"Why do you dislike me so?" She was appalled that her voice shook. "I would have cherished him. You have a Vulcan husband. You are content with him. More than content. Why assume Spock and I could not have had the same?"

She could tell Amanda was not expecting her to be this honest. She actually looked...regretful. "I know you never did anything but love him, T'Pring. But you were never his true path."

"And she is?"

"I am uncertain. But she is there, and there is where he will make his future."

"Logical." She looked down. "Perhaps I should have joined Starfleet. Then I would have been there as well."

"If you had, he would never have left you. But you would never have done that. You are a child of Vulcan."

"So is he!" The words were nearly shouted and she could feel herself coloring in shame. "I apologize."

"Do not. I know you love him. But isn't it better to know now that he cannot love you the way you want and need? Then to marry him and find this out years or decades down the line?" She actually touched the screen, as if offering comfort. "Stonn has always worshipped you. And if not him, you are intelligent and beautiful and charming. There are many who would seek to make you forget my son."

"Could you have forgotten Sarek if he had not chosen you?"

"No." She gave her a smile gentler than any T'Pring had ever gotten from her. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. If I thought you and Spock were well matched, I would have been kinder to you."

"It was not for you to decide."

"But a mother always knows. Et voila. Look how it turned out."

She could easily have said goodbye and cut the call off. Leaving with that perfect ending to this unpleasant interaction. But instead she waited.

She was giving T'Pring this. A last gift. The only one she would get.

She reached for the terminal and cut off the call without saying goodbye.

It was a long time before she felt composed enough to call Stonn. He watched her with such kind support on his face and in his voice. He made her feel safe: Spock had never done so.

"I presume you require more wooing," she said as lightly as she could.

"Yes, but not today. If you need to talk to me about him or how this makes you feel, I will understand."

It was ridiculous. Two facilitators of logic wallowing in emotion. Would Amanda have approved of her more if she'd known how deep her feelings really went? "There is no need, Stonn. I will meditate. May I join you and your family for dinner before we leave Vulcan."

"That would be most agreeable." His eyes shone, so sweet, so loving.

And not what she wanted.

But what she wanted was light years away in the arms of the human he preferred.

She would settle. Stonn was the person she felt closest to next to Spock. But no matter who else she picked, she would be settling. She would not make love or meld with Stonn until she could hide that fact.

She owed him that much.

##

La'an took a sip of her beer and said, "Okay, Christine, explain to me again why we're in my room doing this? I thought I could only make out with you when Spock watched?"

"That's oversimplifying. And we're not making out." Christine had her eyes tightly closed, so La'an stroked her hair as she lay cuddled against her with her head in her lap.

Christine made the moaning "I don't want to talk about it but I do" sound that was never the sign of a short conversation, so La'an backed up a little on the bed until she was comfortable against the wall.

"What's the problem, Chapel? You got the guy. Are you really that girl? The one who never wants a guy once he's captured?"

"No, of course not. It's just T'Pring sounded really sad."

"He let you listen?" Wow, boundaries, Spock? She'd remember that in case she ever needed to comm him about a private matter.

Which she didn't intend to need to do, but still a good thing to file away. There was a part of her that wished she'd let Christine come with her to find Oriana's parents. Not that the captain would have approved it, but it would have kept this from happening.

But it was only a small part of her that wished that. The rest was satisfied seeing her friend happy. And she really did seem happy—La'an wasn't sure what was prompting this freak-out.

But sometimes Christine made zero sense to her. Then again people often made zero sense to her so that might be her fault and not Christine's. Maybe everyone got morose when they got the guy?

"I've been her. I've been that girl. The one who gets discarded for someone else."

"So this is karma."

"No, it's not. It's only karma if the one who screwed me over gets it back. I'm not paying it forward." She tried to bop her on the arm but La'an was wise to her tricks and caught her hand. "I didn't want anyone to get hurt. I didn't intend to fall in love. I didn't intend to join Starfleet." Christine went very still. "Shit, I did not intend to join Starfleet. Did I just join Starfleet for a fucking guy?"

"Well, he is a hot one, if you did." She held off the other hand. "Chapel, you cannot take me by surprise. Stop trying. And you joined Starfleet because this is where you were meant to be. You like it. Admit it."

"I do. But I spent so much time getting ready to do things that did not include joining Starfleet." She rolled over so she was on her back, staring directly at her. "But I'd have never met you. Or Erica. Or the captain."

"Or Nyota or Hemmer or any of the crew. Or your annoyingly skilled-at-chess boyfriend." She tapped Christine's nose gently, the way her brother used to do to her to make a point. "You're being silly. There are the plans we make and then there's what really happens to us. I know that better than most. I never thought I'd be here either, much less loving it." Or loving so many people. She'd worried that liking the people she served with might be a hard road to travel. Love had never been in her lexicon after the Gorn.

But things changed.

"You're right. What is, is. I guess that's a famous Vulcan saying, but Roger used to say it."

"What do you want to bet he stole it from them?"

"Maybe so." Christine laughed and sat up, moving so she was sitting next to La'an, her back against the wall. "Do we need to talk about the making out?"

"I don't know. Do we?" They probably did. She thought Spock might actually enjoy watching them kiss. She wasn't sure how she felt about that. She knew she wouldn't be letting him kiss Christine if she were in his place.

But she didn't really want to talk about this because talking could lead to cessation. And she liked kissing Christine. "Let's not talk about us kissing."

"Okay. Would you kiss him if I asked?"

"Ew, no."

"Are you not into guys."

"I am not into that guy, that's what I'm not into. Christine, don't you realize chess isn't a game to us. It's a battlefield. It's war." And suddenly she realized why he liked watching her kiss his girlfriend. Because at the end of the day, he always got Christine and she always left. Checkmate.

Also he was a guy and they were weird.

"I have no idea what chess is. Except boring." She put her head on La'an's shoulder. "I used to fantasize what it might be like to be a third with Spock and T'Pring. That's how far I took it—a fantasy with me as the third wheel. I never intended..."

Great, they were back to this again. Sometimes being a good friend was really super annoying.

Fortunately, Christine usually realized when she was lapping herself. "And we've been over this. Simulator time?"

"Simulator time." It had taken La'an a hot minute to make it clear to her replacement—and now deputy—that while she was in charge, Christine could use the simulator if it was not being used by security personnel. It was an emotional decision for someone she cared about.

In other words, progress being human. Her therapist had loved it.

##

Ortegas watched as Christine and La'an walked into the lounge. They had that weirdly hot "we've been shooting bad guys" thing going on, and while she found it alluring as far as Christine went, she still did not get their friendship. Spock wasn't in the lounge so they went to the bar, sitting with their heads close together.

She sighed. She'd told Christine what the crew would think—did think. Sitting so close together with the woman her boyfriend played chess with all night was super confusing unless one liked the phrase menage a trois.

Which Ortegas did. Only not in this case.

No. She was not going to go down this road. Christine was her friend. Her super-hot friend. Her friend who she always had fun with. Her friend—God damn it, her friend who she had a massive crush on.

But she always crushed on people. Witness her thing for the captain. Then again, she thought a lot of people felt that way. Of all persuasions. Christopher Pike was H-O-T hot.

And so was Christine. In a different way.

She didn't feel like trying to join whatever was going on with her and La'an, and no other group appealed, so she went back to her quarters. She was midway through a new movie when her comm unit ringed with Nyota's chime.

"Hey, you. How's the academy now that you're a 'firstie'?"

"Not that different than last year. Except everyone wants to talk to me because I survived the Gorn."

She was so freaking glad she hadn't been on that mission. One of the benefits of flying was you stayed with the ship. "I bet."

Nyota never talked about Chia, the cadet who didn't survive. Christine never talked about her either. It was like the woman had barely existed.

She realized Nyota was grinning like the proverbial cat who ate the canary. "What?"

"I may be in demand for another reason. Like that I already have my assignment." She made a high-pitch squeaking sound that was freaking adorable. "You were right. The captain put in for me. Before I even left apparently."

"I'm always right. When will people realize this?" She started to laugh. "Who'd he assign as your mentor?"

At her eyeroll, it was clear. "Yeah, you and La'an get on so well."

"Well, we get on better than we did." She actually sounded hopeful, dear sweet child.

Ortegas was fairly certain there were burly men who shit their pants at the thought of having to interact with La'an. But of course this little one got along with her.

Wait, did everyone get along with La'an except her? Should she be trying to get along with La'an? She was kind of hot in a terrifying way but...

No. No, she did not need to be her friend. Professional colleagues were fine.

"So did you get Ronderson or C'haa?"

"Ronderson. You were so right. The people in the front rows are getting spit on. I'm safely back in the fourth row like you said."

"Again with the 'I am always right' song."

"Yeah, yeah. Put it to music and I'll sing it for you."

"You put it to music and sing it for me when I get back."

"Okay I will." She laughed. "I really miss you."

"Same here. But you got friends there too."

"Yeah. But they're not you."

Everyone said that. If she was so damn special, why was she alone?

"Nope, they aren't me, this is true." She kicked back and got comfortable. "So you want the gossip?"

"Are you going to include whether Christine and Spock are really dating?"

"Nope and I'm also not going to tell you that the crew thinks they're having a threesome with La'an."

"Wait, what?"

"I'm not telling you that. Weren't you listening?"

"I hear everything. That's my whole point." She started to smile in her "I can wheedle anything out of you if I just smile sweetly enough" way. "Come on. The three of them? Right."

"Not talking about it."

"That's okay. Sam already told me."

Another man terrified of La'an. Then again Sam Kirk didn't exactly seem to be all that brave from what Christine had said of the Gorn planet.

"Do you think they're really?"

"No, I don't. Also not talking about Christine. You know the rules."

"He also said the captain and Number One were an item."

"Okay, that one I can confirm. They're so open about it. It's really cute."

Nyota smiled. "I'm glad. She was kind to me from the start. And I would die for Captain Pike."

"Hopefully, it will never come to that."

"Amen."

##

T'Pring found it difficult to get back into the rhythm of Ankeshtan K'til after the time away on Vulcan. It did not help that she was hurting and meditation was not helping.

Her affection for Stonn grew, but this hole still inside her was deeply troubling.

She saw him working with another patient and worked her way over to him, then they walked.

"My parents enjoyed dinner greatly." He glanced at her. "They are pleased that I might find favor with you."

"You more than find favor, Stonn. You are my support and my friend. I hold you in high esteem."

He looked disappointed. But he spoke so openly of love when they were alone. She thought he wanted her too also. She was not at that point, was not sure she ever would be.

Even with Spock, she might not have been so open. And she had wanted him to be a person she could share anything with.

So why was she rejecting the same from Stonn? He could not fill the hole Spock had left, but he could provide something it was increasingly apparent Spock would never have given her: safety.

But she must not rush this. It was not fair to any of them.

"Dinner later? In our haven?" She let her voice drop, into the velvet tone he seemed to enjoy.

"I look forward to it."

She left him and went to her office, catching up on reports that needed her input. But she was having trouble focusing.

Finally, she stood and closed down her terminal. Again, work could apparently wait.

She was certainly not at her best.

She keyed into the restricted area and put her eye up to the retina scan. The light went from red to green and she nodded at the guard who monitored the entrance, then moved through the layers, until she was at the door to his room.

She slid the metal door back and saw the shimmering that meant the forcefield beyond it was in place.

Then Sybok moved into view. "Ah, little serpent. I've missed you."

"As you never see me, I do not see how that is possible, Xaverius."

"I'm even getting used to that ridiculous name. Tell me, did you or my father pick it?"

She stared at him as impassively as she could. Who picked it—it was Sarek—was irrelevant to his treatment.

Or lack thereof. He had so far proven resistant to any attempt to return him to the path of logic.

"But you're right, T'Pring. You never come to see me. Other than when you're removing me clandestinely from the facility. So why are you here now?"

"I was curious if your time away had any effect on you."

"Why did you do it? Take me out of here."

"That is obvious. Spock's life was in danger."

"Do you really think I'd let Angel hurt my brother? Or that they would want to?"

She could feel herself stiffen.

"You ran like an overprotective le matya, ready to protect her mate. It was not logic that drove you, but emotion."

"I did not have any assurance your associate would respect Spock's safety the way you might—and I say might, Sybok, because I do not know what you would do if pressed. None of us do, which is why you are here." Possibly forever.

"All I'd have to do is tell the guards who I am, tell anyone working here other than you or your lapdog, and I'd be free to enjoy life in exile rather than be remade in my father's image." He leaned so close to the forcefield that it made hairs in his beard move in reaction. "Do you never wonder why I don't tell them? Why I stay here, little serpent?"

"I do not. You have a logic that makes sense to you alone."

He laughed, a disturbingly hearty sound from a fellow Vulcan. "Or I have a sense of vengeance that you could not possibly understand. Angel has people everywhere. Angel was watching my brother, making sure he was safe, that he was surrounded by people who understand him. Who love him."

She realized what he was going to say before he said it, by the way his eyes glinted, by the goading hatred in his smile. "No."

"Do you think it an accident that Nurse Chapel was allowed to remain on the ship with nothing more than a hypospray as weapon? Just she and my brother. Angel said he showed a strong affinity for her when he assaulted Barjon T'or. In your body—how much did I enjoy hearing that story? So of course she was the one they would keep on the ship with Spock."

"You set that up? The..."

"The kiss. Angel understands what make people tick—they led Spock and his paramour to that moment brilliantly, do you not agree? Quite passionate from what I heard. Has he broken it off with you yet? Because it's only a matter of time, sweet little snake."

"Why would you do this?"

"Why did you turn me in to my father? Other than you thought it would cement your way to Spock? When T'Mora had more status, her parents more sway with the council. Sarek preferred her even if Spock did not. But you showed him how far you would go to protect his younger son and the way of logic by sacrificing up the older one. Which really I should have seen coming. I should never have trusted you with my truth. But you were so passionate about Spock that I thought we were kindred spirits, T'Pring. And now we are. One snake to another. I hope you choke on your heartbreak. I can feel it through this forcefield."

"I will tell him. I will tell Spock you did this."

"Do you think he will care? I know he is with her now. Free in Starfleet with a lovely human. Free to express himself however he chooses to—a choice I was not given. Angel likes her. They say she works seamlessly with my brother—in addition to her clear passion and affection for him, and vice versa. Having experienced that with my own mate, I know how that feels."

He laughed again, that horrible taunting sound and she felt hollowed. She wanted to bend over, to grasp her stomach and keen. She did not, of course. She slid the door closed and walked slowly down the corridor, nodding again to the guard as she exited.

She played out Sybok's plan, looked at it from all angles. What would have happened if she had not taken him out of the facility—what might have happened if she had not.

But she had. Of course she had. When had she not done whatever it took to get Spock?

Flawlessly logical. And it played on her emotions. The irony was as painful as Sybok had no doubt meant it to be.

She went to her quarters, uncaring that her shift was not officially over, and sank onto her meditation stool, seeking mastery at even the most basic level and failed.

She heard the chime of a message from Stonn. He was expecting her for dinner. Ignoring it, she sought calm over and over again.

And failed each time.

##

Leanna waited in the star base lounge for Christopher, enjoying the moment alone to savor another victory. She was drinking club soda though because Joseph has come up with something—a trial he'd called it but had been very vague about who was running it—that might stop the progression of her disease. But she couldn't drink on it, which really sucked.

But the chance, even a small one, to not die in five years was a chance she'd grab on to with both hands.

She saw Christopher come in and smiled as he sat down with a sigh that was half groan. "Long meetings?"

"Interminable. I'm glad Una wasn't here. She can't stand those things. She likes to do, not sit."

"And yet she sits in that ship quite a lot. It's not all action."

"True." He waved over a server and ordered "Whatever my cousin is having."

"So, you and Una...?"

The heartstoppingly happy grin he gave her was all the answer she needed. "I'm really glad. I like her."

"Yeah me too." He laughed and said, "So you said you needed to tell me something."

"I do. I wasn't going to. But Joseph thought I should."

"Joseph—my Joseph?" He instantly looked concerned. "Joseph the doctor Joseph?"

She nodded; even after enough time to come to terms with this, she still had a hard time saying it out loud. "It's terminal. I have about five years. Although—and I doubt it will work—Joseph has me on a new drug he said is in trial."

Christopher gave her a strange smile.

"What?"

"Just—I think I know where he might have gotten it from. Maybe don't lose hope. It might help."

"Or it might not. I...I didn't want to burden you with this. But he was insistent. Like...you'd relate?"

He waited until the server had put down his drink, then leaned in and took her hands. "I can't explain a whole lot about this. But I have a diagnosis too. It's not a disease. And I won't die. But I won't be the same. And it's in ten years."

She tightened her grasp on him. "Can I help?"

"I love that that's the first thing you ask. No. No one can." He seemed very far away for a moment. "I've made my peace with it. Una knows. Spock, too. And Joseph. That's it. It'd be weird if too many people knew. They might question if I was being too cautious or not cautious enough, you know?" He met her eyes. "There really is a good chance that what Joseph has you on could help."

"Okay."

"But if it doesn't. If you need me. I'll be there."

"I can't ask that of you."

"We're all the family we have left."

"I know. But you're needed. I plan to keep fighting the fight until this thing—or something else—takes me down. You need to do the same. Live, my dearest cousin. With that lovely woman who's clearly smitten with you."

"What about you?"

"I've made plans. You know me. I leave nothing to chance."

"I do know that." He sighed. "It's not how long we live; it's what we do with it. Or that's what I tell myself."

"I think that's wise."

"Still, I don't like to think of you alone."

"I won't be. I hired someone as a personal assistant. They know the score. Their job will extend beyond making my life easier to making my dying easier too."

"It's not the same as family."

"I know. But sometimes we can't be with family. Sometimes we have to make family where we are, which I think you have done masterfully well and I still suck at. But I'm learning. Hopefully." She held up her glass. "To limited lifespans and how much they bite."

"To how much I love you."

"Right back at you." She sipped her drink.

He drained his, clearly expecting it to be something stronger than seltzer. He sputtered a little. "Leanna, I thought you had a G&T or something."

"Oops, did I forget to mention that Joseph said no alcohol on this new med of his? I'm sorry." She started to laugh. They'd gone through a phase as kids when they loved to play practical jokes on each other and this gave her a huge rush of nostalgia.

"Just for that, no Pasta Mama for you." He stood up and offered his arm. "And Una's joining us. I didn't think you'd mind."

"I definitely don't." She leaned her head against his arm, savoring the reassuring bulk of him. He'd been her hero for so long, and she wasn't sure she'd ever told him that. And she wouldn't now. Heroes kept shit to themselves too much. She wanted him to just be the cousin she loved who never thought he couldn't talk to her. "But you will make me Pasta Mama or I will sue you."

"For what?"

"You think I can't pull something out of my ass and still win?"

He called for beam-out, sent a quick text, then grinned at her; she felt a part of herself settle down, the way she did only with him. "I definitely don't think that, Leanna. Only a damn fool would think that."

Una was waiting in the transporter room and heard the last part. "And he's not a damn fool."

Leanna hurried to give her a hug. "Well, some might say he was since he wasn't with you."

There was a sparkle in Una's eye Leanna hadn't seen once during the trial. "Can't argue with that."

FIN