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 PG-13.

Severing Bonds

by Djinn

T'Pring is working in her office, the door closed, light music playing as she finishes up her reports for the day, when the chime sounds—the special combination of notes she has programmed to indicate the communication is from Spock.

She has not heard from him since he requested hiatus. She does not know why he wishes to talk to her, but she is not at his beck and call now that he is temporarily free. She lets the call go to where it will be recorded for her. She will respond when she is ready.

We're in love. I'm sorry.

She stares at the flashing notification that has now appeared on her screen. She wants to dismiss it but cannot bring herself to.

We're in love. I'm sorry.

She has only two reports to finish and then she can join Stonn for dinner. It will be pleasant to be with someone who puts her first.

Hiatus, after all, works both ways, even if she has not taken them to the physical yet. And he has not pushed. He is not interested, she thinks, in having her for only a moment. Stonn has always wanted her for a wife and was not quick with congratulations when she came back to the facility engaged to Spock.

Stonn loves her. He loves her perhaps as much as she believes Christine loves Spock. But T'Pring does not love Stonn the way she loves Spock, even if she will never admit that to anyone—especially Spock or Stonn.

Can the same be said for Spock? Does he truly love this woman or is this just a momentary infatuation—a last bit of human impulsiveness? Is he calling her to ask for resumption of their betrothal?

Or to request dissolution? If she is logical, there are no other reasons for him to call her while on hiatus.

She finally opens the notification, to the message Spock has left, knowing she will not be able to focus if she does not address this.

He appears at peace as he says simply, "T'Pring, I must speak with you at your earliest convenience."

That is the extent of the message. Nothing to let her know which way he will go. Is the peace he is demonstrating because he has embraced logic and will return to her, possibly even return to Vulcan? She would leave the facility if that were the case, would stay on her home world while they build a life. She has envisioned two children. Her mother is exemplary and she believes she will be too. She believes Spock will be a better father than her own is.

She has dreamed these things since she was a girl, trailing after Spock and Stonn. She has never told anyone this is so. It is dangerously emotional for her to want someone with such intensity. That it was a half-human has always been a point of contention between her and her family.

But her mother wanted her to be happy, and her father wanted her mother to not berate him continuously. Spock's mother often says the phrase: "Happy wife, happy life," and T'Pring thinks it applies to her parents' interactions as well.

She initiates a comm back to Spock and he answers immediately. "Spock," she says with as little inflection as she can manage.

But it feels wrong because she wants to be pleased to talk with him, relieved that he cares, safe in this relationship with him, free to speak openly with him of things she would never share with another.

Has he ever wanted the same things from her? Or only a wife who is full Vulcan to make up for the fact he is not?

It has haunted her for longer than this white-blonde sylph has been in Spock's life. Although she remembers another blonde scientist he often spent time with. Leila Kalomi. A different type than Chapel, softer, nearly whispering half her words as if everything between Spock and her was a special secret. T'Pring met her once and felt active hostility.

First Kalomi, now Chapel. The truth is staring back: if Spock has a type, T'Pring is not it.

He has said something, and she has been lost in thought about blonde humans. "I regret I was distracted by something. Please repeat what you said." It is not a lie—it is worded not to be. Vulcans are masters of this. Lies wrapped in a truth-coating as Spock's mother also says.

Must she always think of that woman? She worked hard at first to become closer to her, to get her on her side.

She never achieved it. She is unsure why. Sarek approves of her. As did Michael, even if they did not have a close personal relationship.

But not Amanda and definitely not Sybok...

"T'Pring, is there again a distraction?"

We're in love. I'm sorry.

"Yes. But I am now at your disposal."

If his first two attempts were more gently put, she will never know, but this third time—after her distraction—he seems impatient. "I wish to request dissolution of our bond. I feel my best path is with Christine."

He is stating it as a Vulcan would. But she can read what he is not saying. That they are in love. And he is sorry.

It hurts as much as it did when Christine said it on the bridge of that ship T'Pring hates so much. "I see."

"T'Pring, parted from me and never parted."

It would be a simple thing to say the next line. She has done it before, after all. But she feels an unaccustomed emotional response to his words. And it is not just pain.

It is rage.

Rage that her patients would be astonished to know she feels. But she will indulge this rage and she will coat it in logic. "You are being precipitous."

"T'Pring, it is my right to sever the bond."

"It is. However, I suggest you do not take the initiative on this."

There is something in her voice that clearly gives him pause. He does not speak, just studies her. Finally, he asks, "Why?"

"Do you realize what my association with you has already cost me? And I mean in addition to the...stigma of being joined with a mate who is half human?"

He seems frozen. He has always feared his humanity would come between them, and she has let him continue with that apprehension so that he would work harder at choosing the path of logic. But she has never insulted him like this before. She would never have—deliberately hurting him this way would never have occurred to her.

Being rejected is making her cruel. But still logical, which he will find out to his detriment. "I accepted censure for the handling of Barjon T'or. It is in my file that I struck him when in fact it was you, protecting your name and Christine's honor. I stole one of the facility's vehicles to take your brother out without permission and almost set him loose upon the universe—for you. I falsified records so no one would know he was gone. Stonn helped me so I implicated him, as well."

She leans forward. "I will not be humiliated by you. If this bond is to be broken, I will do it and I will choose the time."

"T'Pring, I—"

She holds up a hand. She is not interested in his feelings or his logic. "It will be before the burning. Do not fear that." He is due soon. But his human blood might cool the ancient urges. Another humiliation she would have had to endure as others would no doubt judge her marriage as divergent.

"T'Pring, this is an emotional response. I request you reconsider, using logic as your guide."

"I have never forsaken logic, Spock. Do you know what will happen if I do as you ask and sever the bond immediately as you seem to wish so fervently?" She keeps her face as emotionless as possible. "I will inform the Kolinahr priestess of what happened during the soul-sharing. That you lost control. To the point where our katras were physically relocated. They will never allow you entry."

"It is possible I no longer desire entry." But he cannot hide the fact that the possibility she will do it concerns him.

"I will be cleared of these spurious charges of assault I have allowed to be placed against me, and they will be leveled on your house in your absence. I will also allow it to be anonymously revealed that Xaverius is Sybok. That your father knowingly kept him at Ankeshtan K'til under an assumed name, rather than enforce the full banishment imposed by the council. That you also know Sybok is still on Vulcan territory and said nothing."

This definitely hits him the way she intends.

"Your father will be disgraced and will no doubt lose his position. Your mother will become a pariah—after how hard she has worked to integrate, I imagine that will be very difficult for her. Your brother will lose all chance of rehabilitation and will be exiled to the lost expanse as originally ordered. You and Michael will both be disgraced, although you more than she since you are aware of what has transpired."

"And you? You also knew it was Sybok."

"Sarek is a powerful man and the head of my future house. How could I deny him? I will, of course, admit my weakness in this to the authorities. Any punishment I get will be worth the humiliation I level on you."

"You would do this?"

"I will if you do not let me choose the time and place of our official parting. Tell your human lover that she has you, if you wish. I will not hold you, but I will also not be humiliated." She does allow herself to smile in what she hopes is a disdainful way. "During hiatus I will likely shift emotional allegiance. I will find a more suitable—full-Vulcan—mate. I will be the one to sever our bond, not you."

"Stonn?" There is something almost jealous in his voice. But she knows it is possible to care for more than one person. Spock would not have been with her if he did not care in some way—and she could feel his regard for her during their private times together.

Unfortunately regard does not always equal love. Somehow a human has wrung from him this final step toward unity.

"Perhaps it will be Stonn. Perhaps Solan." A man who bullied Spock unmercifully as a boy—a man who has also always wanted her.

But she does not respect him so she will not pick him. Despite it all, she wants to be loved for herself with a man of whom she can be proud. It is an emotional need and she knows it, which is why working where she does is so crucial to her. She believes it is also crucial to Stonn for the same reason. Passion can only be tolerated in a proper Vulcan if bounded on all sides by logic.

"I believe you will choose Stonn. And I wish you both well."

"We will prosper or not as fate and logic dictate, Spock. Your wishes will have no effect on us."

"Of course." His eyes shine with something she thinks is a combination of regret and relief. "I will await your call."

"I will not speak with you again until I am ready to dissolve our bond. Do not harass me over this."

"Understood. But we will both be free?"

"Yes, you may tell Christine you are hers now."

"Will you seek revenge on her?"

She pictures the woman, the warmth of her smile, the utter humanness of her. She is solely what she is, and it is that which tempts Spock, not a plan on her part to steal him. She is a lovely, highly intelligent human, a combination he apparently finds irresistible.

Like Leila.

"I will not seek revenge because there is no logic in revenge. But she need never ask me for a favor."

"I believe she knows that. I regret any pain I have caused you, T'Pring. You must know that."

"Yes, I am sure regret is your first thought as you penetrate her." It is an emotional thing to say, but it is out, and she will not try to call it back or wrap it in logic. "Goodnight, Spock."

"Goodnight, T'Pring."

She sits for a long moment and considers finishing her reports but decides—for the first time in her life—to let work wait until the next day, and goes to meet Stonn.

He is already at the cafeteria reserved for staff, waiting just outside. He takes one look at her and says, "Your expression says you just spoke with Spock."

"You are perceptive."

"I do know you."

"I know." She sees the cafeteria is crowded. "May we acquire food to take to our haven? I have things that must be said in private."

"Of course."

They separate to get their respective meals and then reunite at the exit, walking away from the crowded dining room and outside, to a spot he found for them some time ago, outside of where patients are allowed, in a sector that staff also do not frequent. They named it their haven soon after discovering how pleasant it is.

They sit on the grass and she eats for a moment before she tells him anything of the conversation, trying to get her emotional bearings.

"Did he ask for dissolution?" Stonn asks so softly she can ignore the query if she chooses.

"He did." She could tell him no, that it was something trivial, that the hiatus still stands as before. She could turn to Stonn and never tell him Spock has already rejected her. Make him think she is choosing him and rejecting Spock in the process.

But she will not do that to him. She holds him in too much esteem to do that to him. "I must confess a lapse in logic, however. Despite the knowledge that he and I will no longer be bonded, I would not complete the ritual tonight. I told him it would be at the time of my choosing. I...I threatened him with exposing many things if he did not comply."

"I see." His face holds no judgment.

"My actions are not logical. They are emotionally laden responses to his rejection of me."

He pushes his tray aside and moves closer to her. "You care for him. I have always known this."

"I care for you too."

"I have always known that as well. I hoped for so long that I would be the one you proposed to."

"Is that why you turned down T'Lesha?"

He nods. "It was an illogical move, given I believed Spock would win you. But I could not settle for her if there was even a small chance I might win your favor. Am I to understand that you are now free to give me that favor if you wish?"

"I am."

"Would you be settling if you did?"

She does him the honor of not answering quickly. "I am unsure. I am filled with hurt and anger. It is distressing how I cannot call upon logic at this moment."

"And yet you are honest with me, T'Pring, even when it might affect the way I view you. It is why I value you so much." He touches her face gently. "Why I love you."

"Stonn..."

"I refuse to couch it in safe terms. Accord and affinity and other such terms. It is love. It has always been love."

She looks down. "I wish I had understood how important that difference would be when I chose. I do not believe he loved me the same way."

"I do not believe he did either." He takes her hand and she feels a kind of pain coming from him as well as something sweeter. "While you make Spock wait for you to publicly dissolve your bond, I am also willing to wait. I am willing to woo you, if that is needed. I also must require that you woo me. I believe we can be happy—here, not on some ship out there." He gestures above them. "Or on Vulcan, if that is where you wish. I will follow you, T'Pring. I will make you my priority." He slowly lets go of her. "But I will not be second best."

"I understand. A mutual courtship sounds appealing. It sounds..."

"Therapeutic?"

She allows a small smile to play at her lips. "Yes. Is that unappealing."

"On the contrary. Therapy is our calling, after all."

"Well, logical therapy." Is she flirting with him? She has never allowed herself to.

"Yes, it will be interesting to experience a more emotional version." He is happy; she can read it through every indicator she uses during treatment. He is happy—but not unreservedly so since he knows her so well. But he seems at peace with her decision and what the future will bring.

She hopes she too will find that peace.

##

Chapel is still trying to work through what Spock told her T'Pring has said when she hears a familiar voice ask, "Miss me?"

She whirls and wraps La'an up in a tight hug. "You're back. But how...?"

"I was on my way to find Oriana's kin and her aunt was on her way to find her. We met in the middle. It was clear how much they loved each other."

"And of course you did the proper checks."

"Well, I am still me." She grins in a way Chapel has missed so much, even if it hasn't been anywhere near the time she thought La'an would be gone.

"Please tell me you're back for real."

"I'm back for real. But...not as head of security. I'm temporary number one again." She shakes her head. "I can't believe they took her."

"I know."

"The captain said you and Spock, but mostly you, have a built a really strong scientific defense."

"We have." She pulls La'an into her office so they can sit. "Their expert witness is that on-again off-again guy I told you about."

"Then your victory will be all the sweeter." She seems unwilling to sit and begins to pace. "I want to help. The captain's cousin seems to think I'll be an excellent character witness. But you know how I am. How people don't like me. I don't want to do anything to hurt her chances."

"Leanna had no problem telling Spock he couldn't be on the stand for that reason. If she wants you, she believes you're an asset."

"She told Spock no?" La'an is laughing softly.

"Stop it."

"So, you're with him?"

"I am. And amazingly he's with me. Only...his fiancée didn't take that news so well. It may be a while before he's disentangled, but he assures me he will be."

"And you're happy?"

"I'm really happy." Other than for some rather large worries that T'Pring has something up her sleeve, something that Spock is too trusting to see.

La'an studies her. "I know you and this isn't 'really happy' Chapel."

"He makes me happy. And I believe I make him happy. But there's so much I don't understand about the Vulcan bond. Things that might call him back to her. I guess—I guess I won't be really happy until he's really free."

"That sounds like a reasonable reaction to me."

"What about you? Will you still be on the ship if we get the charges dropped?"

"I will. The gamma shift security chief is retiring soon so eventually I can just slip back into my position and everyone else moves back a shift." Her expression is grim. "What if she doesn't come back, though? I feel—I feel responsible somehow."

"You're not. She is." She holds up a hand. "I'm not criticizing her, but you had nothing to do with it." She stands up and pulls her into another hug. "And we'll get her back. I really think we will. Leanna is amazing. But she said she was going to dry-run us into oblivion."

"Good. I like a woman who leaves nothing to chance."

"I think she likes women too. Did she flirt with you?"

La'an eases out of the hug. "No but then my heart's already taken by you. Don't you know that?" She keeps her face serious for a moment then begins to laugh. "The look on your face is priceless. I've got to get up to the bridge. I can't wait to relieve Spock of the conn."

"La'an, be nice."

"I'm always nice."

A few moments later a text comm shows up on her terminal. "Did you know she was coming back?"

Possessive much? For a guy who's letting his ex slow-roll the actual ex part, he doesn't have much room to talk. "Nope," she types back.

"Would you have told me if you had?"

Really? They're going to do this right after he tells her about his talk with T'Pring? "I'm not sure why it matters," she types back.

There's a long pause and the annoying indicator that the person on the other end is formulating a reply. Finally, the message pops up. "I am reacting to my earlier interaction. I am disappointed and allowing it to transfer to this conversation. Please forgive any overreach into your personal affinities."

Awwww. Sometimes he can be so sweet. "It's forgiven. Dinner in your room?"

"I look forward to it."

"Me too." For the first time in his room, they can eat, she can move a few things in, then they can break in that bed—after she refreshes the sheets to within an inch of their life to get rid of any trace of T'Pring.

##

The holding cell is bland. Sufficient to Number One's needs but designed to be unstimulating. Her time allowed for physical exercise is ridiculously short. The food's godawful, and she's pretty sure that some of the time she's getting meals from the day before rather than anything freshly made.

She isn't allowed to mingle. When she goes outside, she goes out alone. With guards on the catwalks above the yard, phaser rifles at the ready, as if she's going to suddenly sprout augmented wings and fly herself to freedom.

She's allowed no comms. She has nothing to read, even though she's fairly certain being given some small quantity of either video or textual entertainment is standard.

They're punishing her. More than the other prisoners. For daring to make Starfleet look like it has its head up its ass when it comes to screening people. Which it does. Look how long she's passed.

How long she would have continued to pass but for one little planet and an ion storm and virus.

She misses the ship, the feel of it vibrating under her feet, the snap of recycled air, the energy of a happy crew doing important work.

She misses watching younger crew grow into their job, misses joking with the old hands.

And Chris. She misses him most of all.

"Commander Chin-Riley?" A man she doesn't recognize, in uniform but not with the typical corrections insignia, is coming down the hall.

"Here."

He holds up a padd. "I'm not allowed to physically give this to you or I swear I wouldn't be listening in. I'm from the JAG's defense coordination unit."

"I don't have a defense." She's planning on pleading guilty. Saving Chris from potentially spending years of the life he has left—if he's right about his future being set in stone—on trials and then appeals. Because she knows he'll never give up, not till they've taken this as far as they can.

She won't do to that to him.

"Just watch this, okay, and let me do my job." He sounds like his day has been shit, so she nods, and he hits play on a video.

Chris. Standing in his kitchen, holding one of her favorite dishes. "This is just so I know you're paying attention."

God, she misses his cooking almost as much as him.

"Listen, I know what you're going to do. And I know why. But I've secured a lawyer and you just have to talk to her, okay? She's the best."

"No, Chris," she whispers.

"I know what you're saying. But...do it for me." He puts the dish down and moves closer to the camera. "Una, I didn't realize, all this time, that when I miss my Number One, what I miss...is you. I mean...really, really miss."

She forgets how to breathe.

"If you stay there, how will we ever discover what that could mean for us? I mean...if maybe you really miss me too?" He actually looks unsure.

Idiot.

"Just tell the nice person holding the padd that you'll see Leanna Sanderson, okay?" He's smiling in the way he's never really smiled at her, never let himself maybe? But she's seen him give that smile to others—to lovers, like Alora. Has had to remind herself that he's never going to be hers and that's how it should be. Protocol and hierarchy and all that.

No matter what she really wants.

The man is watching her. "So...?"

"I'll see Leanna Sanderson," she murmurs but he smiles in a way she can't read. "What? Is that funny?"

"Only if you enjoy watching a massacre—which being on the defense side all these years, I sort of do. She's fantastic."

"Oh." She sees he really means it. "Ohhh." Is it possible? Could she really be set free?

He looks at her cell. "Where is the padd with reading material?"

"They didn't give me one."

"And you didn't want to rock the boat?"

She shrugs. "I'm okay." She just wants to think about Chris and maybe being free and maybe being free with him.

"Your call."

But a little while later, when her midday meal is delivered, the woman serving it puts a padd in the transfer slot along with the tray. "Someone must have forgotten this. It's got all the latest vids and some really good books," she says with a sheepish smile. "Wasn't my idea, I swear."

"I know what it's like when superiors make it hard to do your job." But it's been years since she's known that. Chris never makes it difficult to do anything but excel.

"You and me both, Commander. The cornbread's warm. Eat it before it gets cold."

It tastes fresh and delicious unlike anything she's had here to date. And before now, the staff just called her "Chin-Riley," not "Commander." Just how good is this lawyer if she's suddenly being treated well?

And does she have a chance, not just at freedom, but of actually returning to the Enterprise?

##

Leanna makes her way down to sickbay, confident after so many days of working with Christine and Spock that she can find her way there with no problem. The ship really does look the same once you get to the inner decks—how are none of these people constantly lost? But then some people think courtrooms all look the same, and she doesn't, so she supposes it's that way for the crew.

Christine sees her come in and actually groans. "Please, God, no more dry runs."

"See, I told you." She grins at her. "Not here for you today. Is he in?" She points to M'Benga's office at the other end of sickbay.

"He is." With what looks like huge relief, Christine turns back to whatever it is she's doing.

Leanna walks down, letting her sensible heels ring out so M'Benga will hear her coming. He's looking up when she peeks into his office. "Hello again, Joseph."

"I hope Christopher is assigning you the best of the guest quarters—and giving you frequent flyer points." He gestures to a chair.

She laughs and sits. She's loved this man since Christopher first introduced them, when he was showing the doctor his home town and she was still making her name in the legal world. "Can you close the door?"

He does it immediately.

"What's wrong with my cousin?"

She has to give M'Benga credit. He doesn't break expression. "Nothing that I know of, but of course I cannot discuss his medical file with you."

"He's different."

"I agree. He was on a mission that changed him."

"How?"

"You have to ask him, Lee-Lee."

"Oh my God, I'd hoped you'd forget that name." She leans in. "If he were dying of some illness, would you tell me?"

"I would not."

She watches him carefully because long ago, during that first visit, she learned he had a tell for when he's lying. But she doesn't see it now.

She finds herself visibly relaxing. "I've been so worried."

"I know. I too was confused by the change in him. But in addition to his time away, we have had some very difficult missions. Have lost people. Came to the brink. I think he appreciates things in a way he never did before. Not that he was shallow, of course."

"No, I get it. And Una? What's going on between them?"

"Nothing as far as I know. They are friends, though. Close friends." Again, the tell is missing.

"Do you think that might change. If we get her off and back here where she belongs?"

"If he or she plan to adjust their relationship, neither has indicated that to me."

"But could it happen? Do you think there's love there?"

There. The weird tic in his left eye and then him reaching up to scratch it.

"There is."

He laughs softly. "I do not gossip, Lee-Lee."

"I'm already highly motivated, Joseph, to win this case on principle alone. But if I knew that my cousin wouldn't be alone anymore, that he wouldn't flit from one nice 'she's just a friend I served with' to another, I'd be even more incentivized to get Una free."

He doesn't answer, just sits frowning slightly. Finally, he says very softly, "I have always thought that there could be something there if they would both just let it be there. But Una is very much by the book and he is in her chain of command."

"And his hands are shaking when he talks about her. Have you ever known his hands to shake because I haven't? Other than when our respective parents died."

"I have not. You are right." He suddenly pulls out a scanner and begins to aim it at her. "But I have also never seen you so worried about him."

"Don't."

He doesn't stop, and she closes her eyes and waits to hear the words she has come to hate so very much. He doesn't say the name of the disease, just "Oh, Lee-Lee," and there is a world of sorrow in his voice.

"I, uh, apparently caught it when I was working pro bono on the very definition of a shithole planet. Therapies work if you know you're infected and get treated right away. Ten years later, not so much. As you no doubt well know." She meets his eyes, making hers resolute. "I want to see him settled before I die." She has five years give or take. He no doubt can tell that.

"You should tell him."

"No, he doesn't need that."

"Actually, I think he probably does."

"I'm not going to tell him. What good can it do except make him sad?"

"It could make him share some things that I think you want to hear. About the difference in him." When she starts to say something, he shakes his head, lips pressed tightly together.

"You really think so?"

"I really do."

She feels a weight coming off her. She's wanted to tell Christopher; they don't keep secrets unless their jobs demand it. He's her closest relative and the person she loves most in the world, and the idea of dying without him knowing kills her, but she wants to save him from hurting.

This man, though, would never want Christopher hurt. If he says she should tell him, she'll tell him.

"Okay. But not till after the trial."

##

Chapel staggers a little as she and La'an walk arm and arm after Spock. The captain threw everyone who's going to be at the trial a "You survived my cousin's dry runs" dinner. It was amazing and Leanna brought in a lot of top-shelf booze.

"You have to come in and see what I've done with the place," she tries to whisper to La'an but of course Spock turns and looks at her. "What? It's very homey now."

"You added five pillows and two throws."

"But they're really nice ones."

"I'm sure she has better taste then you, Spock." La'an is drunk and a little surly now that she's free from being on her best behavior with the captain and others. She takes being first officer very seriously, and Chapel loves that about her. She knows La'an has a pocket full of antitox in case she felt herself getting too out of control.

But when does La'an ever?

"Can I play with your braids?" she asks as they nearly bump into Spock as he palms them into their quarters.

"I'd be disappointed if you didn't." Once inside the room, La'an sort of crumples down onto the floor as Spock takes one of the chairs, and then pulls Chapel down with her. "Your girlfriend is beautiful, Mister Spock." She gives him a smile that only goes up on one side.

Oh, shit, Are they going to get all challengey over her? "Spock, you don't have to answer that."

"She is indeed." He does not take his eyes from La'an, and Chapel feels like she's back in grade school with two friends having a stare-down.

"Wow, something we actually agree on." La'an laughs but it's not the nicest sound.

"I'm just going to play with your braids." Chapel starts to undo them, pulls La'an's hair, and says, "First I'm going to take some antitox so I don't accidentally pull out all your hair."

La'an reaches for some too.

"No." It is Spock this time. "I'm curious to see La'an when she is intoxicated. She is so rarely open."

"Got that right," La'an giggles, then slaps at Chapel's hand. "Can she take one, though? She really is hurting me."

"That is acceptable."

Chapel slips in an antitox and feels her head clearing. She goes back to working on La'an's braids, much more dexterous this time. "Can you get me some water, Spock?" She smiles up at him, loving that this is their room now, even though sometimes they use hers for fun. His is just way nicer.

"Of course." He pours some of her favorite sparkling water into one of the glasses he told her were from his mother, but as he hands it over to her, he looks at La'an and asks, "Are you in love with my woman?"

"Whoa, terminology choice not approved." She glares at him as she takes the glass. "My woman? Really?"

"Did you not say you wanted to be mine and me yours?"

"Yeah, but that's not a direct translation to how you just said it. All territorial like."

"No, he's right to put it in those terms. I don't blame you, Spock. I'd fight for her too if she were mine." She turns to Chapel. "But you're not. We decided you're not." She smiles in a super sappy way that makes Chapel laugh, and then pulls her to her for a very, very nice kiss. Then she looks back over at Spock and says, "Your move, Spock. What will you do with my opening?"

"She is my queen. I will, of course, protect her."

La'an's expression changes and she leans away from Chapel and toward Spock. "On how many dimensions?"

"Three if possible."

Wait, suddenly the two of them are looking really intensely at each other, and Chapel doesn't think it's about her anymore.

"Do you...play?" La'an asks, a note of wonder in her voice.

"Yes. Do you? I have lacked a partner with the skill or imagination to provide stimulating play."

"When I was on the Gorn nursery planet, and I had to go to ground and be very, very quiet, I would play three-dimensional chess games in my head. I learned on the colony ship. There wasn't much else to do. The chessboard was lost during the attack, but it was all there, in my head. The only thing I had, you know?"

Spock nods. "I do. I have at times done the same thing. Please take the antitox."

"May I kiss her again first."

He has to think about it. "Only for as long as it takes me to get the board. Then we will go to the lounge."

La'an turns to her and kisses her; Chapel isn't completely sure why they're kissing, but La'an is nice to kiss, so she doesn't question, just enjoys it while it's going on.

Spock is back quickly, watching as La'an pops in the antitox, then handing her a satchel Chapel assumes holds the chessboard and pieces, and pulls Chapel into his arms. He looks at La'an as he says, "Just in case you were confused as to who Christine is with," and then he kisses her. Very, very thoroughly.

"Well, look who's not afraid to be demonstrative. If you prove as brave at chess, I may actually grow to like you, Spock."

"Indeed." He looks at Chapel. "Would you like to come with us?"

"And watch you two play a game I have never understood? No. I'm beat and I'm going to bed. Have fun and do not kill each other." She starts to laugh. "La'an, I only undid one braid." She reaches toward her.

Spock shoots her a gentle glance that is full of "uh, no" energy. "She is entirely capable of doing the other one herself, Christine."

"Yes, yes she is." She mouths "Sorry" to La'an, who just laughs softly and begins to undo the braid.

"God forbid 'your woman' touches me, Spock."

"Deities have nothing to do with this. And I think I have been very generous on that account. You are fortunate I lack the energy to challenge you in anything other than chess."

"You think you can take me? In anything, including chess?"

"I do."

"Ha!"

The two begin arguing about what she thinks are opening moves. They sound...anticipatory. Like chess is a battlefield.

Hell, maybe it is. Let them both work off steam. Maybe actually become friends instead of coworkers who bristle when they see each other.

She's so tired she can barely get her makeup off and her teeth brushed before she falls into bed. If they want to play chess all night, more power to them, but she's going to crash.

She wakes up when Spock crawls into bed and glances at the chrono. "You played chess for four hours?"

"We did."

"Who won?"

"It was a tie—three games each. She is highly original in play. It was most unexpected."

"Are you going to drop me for her?"

"No." He kisses her gently, and his expression is soft. "Watching her kiss you was...strange."

"Strange good or strange bad?"

"I am unsure."

"Why did you let her do it more than once?"

"I did not. You did. You are not my possession, Christine. You make your own decisions."

"So I shouldn't kiss her anymore?"

"I did not say that."

"So I should kiss her?"

"I did not say that either." He is clearly enjoying teasing her.

"I have always had kind of a strangely intimate non-sexual thing with her. Is that going to be okay?"

"So long as you do not discard me for her and it stays non sexual, yes. But only in private."

"Duh."

"And preferably with me there to watch."

"Also duh."

##

Number One finishes putting on her uniform; it's a relief—if perhaps a temporary one—to be in it once more. She stares at herself in the mirror, trying to ground herself—but she feels as if she's floating.

This doesn't feel like the first step toward freedom. It feels like the last hurrah before a penal colony.

There is a soft voice on the other side of the door. "I have make-up for you, too."

She opens the door and takes the items Leanna hands her. They are the brands she uses and when she opens them, they're used. She must show her surprise because Leanna says gently, "Christopher went through your things. He thought you'd want your own stuff."

"Thanks. Yes." She leaves the door open as she puts the makeup on and dries her hair, putting it up and out of the way.

"You look good," Leanna says as she studies her.

"Very human?"

"That's not what I meant. Very much the Starfleet officer." She smiles gently. "You ready for this?"

Number One nods, and Leanna squeezes her shoulder and then leaves. She's having trouble squaring this kind woman who's been meeting with her, who's gone out of her way to make her feel as if they have a chance, with the apparent tiger everyone else views her as.

But she's Chris's cousin. He can appear lovably goofy—until he isn't. And those times are rare, when the steel inside him turns from backbone and solid support for those around him to a weapon.

In no time, a guard appears and she's taken to the courtroom. The guard doesn't put restraints on her. He doesn't even touch her the way the guards generally do to remind prisoners of exactly what they've lost.

She still wonders if she should plead guilty. But when she walks into the courtroom, when Chris's face is the first one she sees, when he smiles at her in that way again, the way he's never done other than in her fantasies, she resolves to fight.

Even if she won't even be called to testify. She is on the list for both sides but Leanna has told her neither are likely to use her. It will depend on how things go.

She thinks this means she is not the kind of person that wins people over and Leanna's not wrong. And the prosecution knows she can refuse to answer.

There are opening statements that go on for a long time. Number One tries to keep her features schooled into something not too stern but also not falsely friendly. This is who she is. This is the officer who has become known as "the best first officer in the Fleet." Screw the panel if they can't see who she is apart from what she is without an overly human smile.

The charges are read. They go on forever but they gist down to: "Lying about being normal."

"How do you plead, Commander Chin-Riley?"

Again she has the urge to plead guilty but she hears Chris behind her, the whisper they've perfected over so many missions. "Don't you dare, Una."

She almost laughs. "Not guilty." There, she's said it. She'll fight. Her legs start to shake and she's glad she can finally sit.

The prosecution begins, citing the long history of her deception. It hurts, at first, to hear her crimes detailed this way. But then she begins to realize he's basically just repeating himself. It's what Leanna has told her. Their case rests on two facts: she's augmented and she lied about it so she could serve.

They begin to call witnesses. She notices another fact Leanna tried to hammer home to her: she has a long list of character witnesses willing to talk about the kind of officer she is, the kind of person she is. Friends or if not friends, people she has saved or helped in some way.

The prosecution has mostly experts. And they seem to think a lot of themselves, but maybe she is just taking this a little too personally. Talking about the dangers of augmentation. The history of it, the threat she poses.

She thinks Chapel's professor is particularly damning. He says everything as if he deeply regrets it but has to tell the truth. He's charming and she can see the panel is listening to him closely.

Hope begins to fade the longer he's questioned. She knows who this man is—what he asked Chapel to do to the crew—but she won't out Chapel when the woman has helped her so much. She's said nothing to Leanna about any of that.

So it's to her shock when Leanna stands and begins her cross with, "Doctor Korby, you have stated my client's augmentations include immune-system enhancements."

"That's right." Is he suddenly less relaxed?

Would Chapel have told Leanna? She wants to turn around to look at her but knows that would be a terrible idea.

Leanna hands him a padd. "Can you read the title of this grant proposal, please?"

"Enhancements to the Human Immune System in Order to Evade Viral Infection." He seems suddenly on guard, as if he's not sure what Chapel might have told, but Leanna is very, very gentle with him as she asks, "Who is the author of this proposal?"

"I am."

"Was it approved?"

"It was not."

"Why not, Doctor Korby?"

"It was deemed too close to augmentation."

"Did you agree with that assessment?"

"I did not."

"Why not?"

"Because ridding humans of the threat of viruses would have benefitted humanity. It might have been capable of being tweaked against bacterial and fungal infection and autoimmune disease, as well. And it would have been potentially transferable to other species—barring those who are naturally immune to infection, of course." He sounds as if it's a relief to tell the world of the project he was never allowed to run.

"It is indeed a shame it was never approved or trialed." She's facing him and the panel but standing in a way that those in the gallery can see her expression. The gentle smile, the slightly sad look. A look that seems suddenly very real.

"Indeed. Most short sighted." He glances past Number One and she knows he's looking at Chapel. It's a look of deep respect. The look she might give La'an when she beats her at one of the military strategy games they like to play.

"Is it safe to say you believed your grant would keep you on the side of therapy and not augmentation?"

"It is."

"Do you consider my client augmented?"

"I have said so in great detail."

"Have you been shown this?" She hands him something and he reads for a moment.

"I have not."

"Would you read it aloud, please?"

"Tibia, broken, Starfleet Academy accident. Ankle, sprain, exercise incident. Burn therapy, shuttle crash. Suturing of stab wound, mission incident. Treatment and pain relief for chronic migraine, ongoing. Pain relief for menstrual cramps, ongoing. Toenail fungus?" He looks at her and starts to laugh. "Must I go on?"

"That's sufficient, I think. Is this the medical record of someone you would consider dangerously augmented?"

"No. It is the record of someone apparently immune to viral and bacterial infection. But not fungal and with no particular healing power other than human normal." He actually looks right at Number One. "This is fascinating. I would love to take some readings if you're amenable."

The prosecutor rises. "Objection. Please instruct the witness to direct his remarks to the defense." He sounds seriously pissed off.

"I apologize," Korby says to the panel instead of the prosecutor. Then he looks at Leanna. "I would love to take some readings from her if she's amenable."

The gallery breaks out in laughter and for the first time, Number One actually feels some hope.

##

La'an watches as Korby leaves the witness chair and evaluates the long look he gives Christine, who's sitting next to her. The tight nod. The gleam in his eye.

Then he's gone, back to his seat.

The prosecution spends the rest of their time using various witnesses to remind the panel of Una's other enhancement: her strength. They try to imply her intelligence may be enhanced, but Leanna objects and asks for supporting data.

It, of course, doesn't exist. Una's brilliance is her own.

They finally rest. And it's the defense's turn and Leanna calls Christine. She explains she worked with Spock, who stands. La'an can see the panel's impressed they have a Vulcan on the case—and probably that he isn't the one testifying. Christine has visuals and leads the panel through the same data Leanna has had her practice on La'an and a bunch of others who don't really get science. It's been perfected over time so anyone can understand without being so simple it insults. And it's arranged so it makes a compelling story. Comparing Una to others already serving in Starfleet in terms of augmentation, showing why the sensors could not detect the changes, how little she really differed from a human when it came to the vast percentage of what made Una tick.

Christine's enthusiasm for the subject, her natural charm: it's working. The panel is nodding. They are less tight, then one begins directing questions directly to Christine, to which the prosecution objects and is immediately slapped down by the admiral, who apparently doesn't like being told to shut up by a lieutenant commander.

Leanna gently asks Christine to answer the panel's question. And then there's another, and another until they're having a true back-and-forth, and Christine even asks if Spock can answer something when he's not even sworn in, and the prosecutor objects and at least gets Spock sworn in and standing near where Christine is sitting. And then the panel is asking them both questions.

It's so embarrassing for the prosecutor, La'an almost feels bad for him. He sits, jiggling his knee, trying to keep a scowl off his face and failing miserably.

And, La'an realizes, this is how to bloodlessly take apart a carcass. There's a symbiosis between Leanna and Christine and even Spock. The way there would be between the Gorn when they hunt prey—once they grow old enough to cooperate.

It's a beautiful, beautiful thing.

It's a lesson La'an resolves to remember. That cooperation is something she must continue to embrace, to enhance her ability to excel in. That working with others can be as seamlessly elegant as a dance or battle move. That going it alone frees no one.

Generally.

Finally, Christine is done and the prosecution attempts a few lame questions but really, what can he do with this? Especially when his expert witness has testified he wanted to do to humans the very thing that was done to Una. That he does not consider it augmentation.

But still, Una lied. That's indisputable.

But Leanna doesn't seem to care about it. She instead calls witness after witness who can speak to how having Number One on their team or crew or landing party changed the outcome, often saving them. Commanding officers who to a person considered her indispensable to the success of their missions. Who talk about how selfless she is, how truly dedicated to Starfleet.

There are also the former problem children she's seemed to specialize in mentoring. Those who struggled in a variety of ways. Who went on to excel and credit her for the change in their lives.

And then La'an is called. Barring her experience with the Gorn, her story isn't special; she's just one of the many outliers Una took under her wing. And La'an is glad for that. She never realized Una's done that so often—she's struggled for years thinking she was especially broken.

The prosecution elects to cross-examine her. He hasn't done so for most of the witnesses. She fights not to swallow audibly when he approaches.

"You owe your life to the Commander, don't you?"

"We all do. She's a brilliant first officer who's made many decisions that prevented injury or death."

"Cagey answer. I mean you personally, Lieutenant."

"I don't understand." And she really doesn't. What does he mean?

"It's a simple question. If not for the Commander, your raft would have sailed on forever. You owe her your life."

"She was on the bridge of the King Jr. when I was found, yes. But she was not the one who first spotted my raft's very weak signal. It was Lieutenant Commander—then Ensign—Williams."

The prosecutor begins scrolling through his padd.

"Don't bother looking for it, sir. If you were told it was Commander Chin-Riley who spotted my raft and prevented me from sailing to my death, I assure you it is not true. Lieutenant Commander Sarah Williams did, and I can't thank her for it anymore because she died four years ago. I put tuberose on her grave whenever I'm on Earth. It was her favorite flower."

There's silence in the courtroom until the prosecutor finally says, "No further questions."

La'an is confused. There's still something Leanna wanted to use, but it hasn't come up. She's about to get up when Leanna says, "Redirect."

"Granted."

She approaches La'an. "You've established how the Commander helped you overcome the trauma of what you'd been through with the Gorn and helped you reintegrate into normal life." Therapy, tutors before she went to school, always there for her to talk to no matter how late.

"Yes."

"Do you think you would have entered Starfleet without her influence?"

"Objection. Speculation."

"We'll allow it," the panel spokeswoman says.

"No. It was never something I'd have considered. Our family...well, being descended from Khan doesn't make you popular. The whole reason we were easy picking for the Gorn is that we were trying to find a place free of prejudice. I had a very dim view of Starfleet, having been bullied by children of officers and crew, both before we left and after I was back on Earth."

"Then why did you join?"

"Because the commander loved Starfleet. It was evident in everything she did, every value she promoted. And I figured if there was even only one other person like her in Starfleet, then maybe it would be a place I could prosper."

"And have you prospered?"

"I have. And I've found many people like her. Kind and giving—and also tough and capable."

"I for one am very glad you're part of Starfleet." She suddenly looks at the panel, not La'an. "I imagine there's no other member of Starfleet with the knowledge this woman has of the Gorn."

It isn't classified that they've met the Gorn, but it is close hold. Leanna isn't saying a lot, but she's saying enough, just the way they've practiced it.

And the prosecution must be read-in because for once he doesn't object to someone addressing the panel directly. No one is shifting or making comments in the gallery—these are people who were there, or who've no doubt read the reports to get them ready for also potentially facing the Gorn. The panel's paying attention, too, with a level of concern they haven't previously displayed.

This is the part La'an expected her to lead with.

Leanna is still looking at the panel. "I imagine—without her to share valuable information on the Gorn's tactics and communication methods—if an attack were to come, we might be entirely vulnerable. We owe Commander Chin-Riley a great debt for bringing such a unique asset into Starfleet."

She turns back to La'an. "Would your opinion of Starfleet be diminished if the Commander were convicted?"

"Yes."

"Would you stay?" This isn't something Leanna has asked her before, and she's taken by surprise.

But the answer is easy: "No." It's the truth. If Starfleet can't see what they have in Una, then Starfleet isn't a place she wants to be.

The courtroom is silent.

"The defense rests."

##

Chapel is standing next to La'an, holding on to her hand as the panel files back in. The closing arguments were brief. The time the panel was in chambers even briefer.

She hopes to God that's a good sign. If not, she'll spend the rest of her life wondering what she could have done differently—better.

As everyone sits, the spokeswoman looks out at the gallery, then at Number One. "The panel has been convinced that your augmentations, while irrefutable, do not give you an advantage not held by potentially other members of the Federation community. Therefore the charges of egregious augmentation are dropped."

There is a muted sound from the gallery. Relief and happiness probably. The prosecution's expert witnesses didn't stay for the verdict.

Except for Roger. He passed her in the hallway as they were waiting, murmuring "We will talk later."

Did he think Spock couldn't hear him? Because of course he did. And he said, "I will accompany you if you wish," once Roger was safely out of range.

Chapel feels La'an tighten her grasp. Chapel knows her evidence was crucial. She's done well. But La'an's will be the one to decide the other charge.

"As to the charge of deception, the panel cannot refute that Commander Chin-Riley deceived Starfleet willfully and over the course of decades. That said, we have reviewed the number of scans that have been performed on the commander over the years from a variety of instrumentation. Scans that failed to flag her as augmented and quite frankly we're dismayed at the ease with which she slipped through. Therefore, we cannot punish for the duration of the lies as our technology, if properly calibrated, should have stopped her entrance into Starfleet Academy much less creating such an admittedly stellar career."

There is a louder sound from the gallery. Confusion, Chapel thinks, but also relief.

"We are left with willful deception. Commander Chin-Riley, please rise."

Number One stands, she's at attention but not painfully so. Just more like that's how she stands, like this is who she is no matter what.

"The penalty for willful deception varies and it is up to us to decide whether incarceration is warranted." The spokeswoman actually looks right at La'an, who grips Chapel's hand so tightly it hurts, then she turns back to Number One . "We believe it is not."

There is a subdued reaction, no doubt waiting to see if the other shoe is going to drop: dishonorable discharge.

"Owwww," Chapel murmurs and La'an says "Oh, sorry" and eases up.

"We cannot allow officers to carry on deceptions and not be punished. I'm sure you understand this, Commander."

"I do." Number One's voice is rock steady and Chapel can't help but admire her.

"We therefore, as penalty, reduce your rank to Lieutenant Commander. You will not be eligible for promotion for eighteen months. You may remain in your position and any commendations you have received during your career stand."

There is an audible gasp. Even Chapel gets this has to be incredibly lenient.

"Commander"—the spokeswoman voice is different now, gentler, one office to another, not judge and accused—"between the report we received from Captain Pike on the actions taken by the remaining Illyrians on Hetemit to protect him and Mister Spock and your own exemplary career—not including the deception, of course—we are recommending the Federation reevaluate its attitudes toward Illyrians. We cannot promise they will do this, but we can assure you that, under the rules of double jeopardy, you need not worry that the fact of your augmentation or your deception can be used against you in the future unless further instances of either are discovered. In addition, we will regard any prejudice against you when it comes to future assignments to be a breach of regulations." She actually smiles at Number One. "Do you understand our decision and your punishment?"

"Yes, sir." She sounds incredulous—and happy. Chapel's not sure she's ever heard her sound so free.

But then she's been living under this lie for so long, it had to have colored everything in her life.

"These proceedings are now closed."

Everyone stands as the panel files out and then there is a furious round of hugging and back-slapping and high fives. Chapel finds herself being dragged by the captain up to Number One, who hugs her so hard she has to say, "Human bones. Ow."

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry." But Number One's actually laughing—and crying.

And Chapel understands and just softly says, "It sucks to be as good as I am, right?" with a wink. "Arrogant chaos maybe isn't such a bad thing."

"I guess not." She pulls her in for another hug and whispers, "I know you didn't have to. Thank you." And then before she lets her go, "There is, however, still a fine line between cocky and arrogant."

Chapel gives her the sheepish shrug-nod that she's used all her life to dodge being in trouble, and gets the first real smile she thinks Number One has ever given her.

The captain looks like he might burst. "Una, we're having the biggest celebration ever. I may have stocked everything you love."

"What if I'd lost?"

"Then it would have been us bitching and formulating appeal strategies with all the foods you love to fortify us." The captain is looking at Number One super intensely. Like...does he like her? Then he turns to Chapel. "Got some of your favorites too but they weren’t going to come out unless we won."

"Understood, sir," she says with a laugh. "I just need to do one thing before we join you. Spock too."

He leans in. "Is this another celebratory screw? Because I really think it can wait until we're done with dinner." He sounds giddily amused.

She laughs. "No, it's not that. I need to talk to Doctor Korby. It's time to end some things."

"Does that mean you might want to convert to crew?"

"Yes, if you'll have me."

"Are you fucking kidding me, Christine? They'll have to pry you from my cold, dead hands." He pulls her in for a quick hug then lets her go and wraps his arm around Number One's shoulder, pulling her, with the rest of the crew and character witnesses out of the gallery.

Roger is standing with Spock; they're actually talking like two scientists getting to know each other, not like warring suitors.

As she approaches, he turns to her. "Your boyfriend here is suggesting some very interesting things."

She looks at Spock. Did he tell Roger he was her boyfriend or did Roger just guess? "Oh?"

"How the Vulcan Science Academy might be more amenable to my grant request than Stanford was."

"Oh." She looks at Spock with a question in her eyes.

He nods. "Doctor Korby and I have had a most interesting conversation about his work. There is a syndrome on Vulcan that the immune-system project might address if it were tweaked to look at auto immune diseases, as the Doctor suggested might be possible in his testimony. It only affects Vulcans and as it runs in our family line, I find myself intrigued as would other Vulcans so afflicted." He touches her shoulder. "I will give the two of you some time to talk alone." And off he goes, leaving her very confused.

"Did he tell you he was my boyfriend?"

"He's a Vulcan, Christine. Of course not. It was obvious watching you two work, your chemistry and how in sync you were. Well chosen, by the way. I'd love to steal him for Stanford."

"Oh, Yeah. Thanks. And uh, don't steal him." This is so not how she envisioned this conversation going. "Also, I'm joining Starfleet."

"Yes, even I can read the writing on the wall. It's in huge flashing letters." He smiles the way she used to love. "You were amazing. And thank you for not including the part about the trial or what I asked you to do."

"That would have ruined you. I love you. I'd never hurt you."

"I'd never hurt you either."

She rolls her eyes. "You slept with everyone in sight."

"We were never exclusive, even if you seemed to want to be. And career wise, I only ever promoted you and your work."

It's true, so she can't argue. "I guess this is goodbye then."

"I'm sure we'll run into each other again. On Vulcan, perhaps, if I'm successful in showing I could be of use with this syndrome. If you tire of Spock, give me a call." He moves closer. "Would he get very angry if I kiss you?"

She almost laughs, remembering how Spock let La'an kiss her. "No, but I will."

"You really are all grown up." He holds out his hand. "Doctor Chapel, it was an honor and a privilege to be your mentor."

It's nice to hear the title, nice to have someone who remembers she has a doctorate. She takes his hand and grasps it firmly. "Thank you for everything, Doctor Korby."

Then she turns on her heel, finds Spock in the corridor and tells him to call for beam-out. Once they are safely on the ship and into the corridor, she pulls him to her for a tight hug.

"It is over with him?" he asks very gently.

"It is. I'm all yours." She wants to kiss him but she refrains. After all, he'll be her commanding officer soon. Wait, is that a problem? "I'm going to convert to crew. Are we okay if I do that?"

"You have decided?"

"I have. We make a good team. Can't break up the band before we go platinum."

"I followed about half of that. As for our relationship being a problem, you will be in medical. It is, by design, independent when it comes to reviews." He actually smiles. "Moreover, do you believe I could not come up with a very convincing reason a Vulcan might require his mate to be near if our relationship is questioned?"

"I'm your mate?"

"I did not say that specifically."

She mock pouts.

"But I can think of no one I would want more to be my mate."

"Fabulous answer." She gets him turned around and headed toward the captain's room. "Now, we have a party to go to."

FIN