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.
It's in the Spaces Between That We Fall in
Love
by Djinn
Part 12: How We Met Again for
the Last Time
Spock sits on his porch on
the new Vulcan home world, sipping tea and reading the report the alternate Jim
has sent him of their latest mission. His messages always end the same:
"This happen in your timeline?"
And his answer is always the
same: "I must preserve the purity of this timeline." The only time he
has made an exception was for Khan.
And almost for Christine—this
world's Christine. Who he sees walking with T'Pring, the two of them in
animated conversation about genetics and logic and who knows what else.
This reality's Spock was
never betrothed to T'Pring. He never spent time with Christine when she first
reported. The changes go even earlier than that—he never had a sister named
Michael, never was held captive, never encountered the Red Angel.
So much different for reasons
Spock has never fully understood. One small change so long ago leading to so
many variations.
Sarek approaches the porch.
"Do you prosper, Spock who is not Spock?" It is how his not-father
addresses him when he wishes to speak informally, about things that Spock
should not tell him and usually does not.
Sarek, though, is wilier than
he is. He never realized how much more so than now, when he is dealing with
this younger version of the man who held such sway in his life.
Sarek has determined that
Spock watches Christine with a great deal of interest.
Sarek has determined that
Spock also watches T'Pring with a great deal of confusion—the T'Pring of his
time had no interest in science, and yet this one went to MIT, where she became
friends with Christine, who left the Enterprise because of a disastrous
encounter with Jim and found her way—with T'Pring's encouragement—to the new
Vulcan home world, to put her genetics background to use in rebuilding the
Vulcan race.
Christine works often with
Sarek. She also seems to spend a great deal of private time with him as well.
"Please sit and talk
with me, Sarek." It is so odd to address his father by his given name.
Sarek sits then hands him a packet,
and Spock sees it is his favorite incense, which of course is his father's
favorite too. He so wanted to emulate him when he was a boy—when did that
change to defiance? And why didn't defiance include changing his incense? Or
was that the only thing left he had of his father?
"Most kind." He has
nothing to offer Sarek but then he is the elder here and does not need to. The
dynamic throws him as ever.
"Which of them did you
care for?" Sarek's eyes are relentless as he
asks. He has never put the question so directly before.
"You know I will not
tell you."
"So
it was one of them. Or you would simply say neither."
"Perhaps it was both?
And I still cannot tell you."
Sarek leans back, an almost
smile on his face. "I find myself hoping it was not Christine."
"Oh? Why is that?"
But he knows. He has seen the way this Sarek looks at her—a way his own father
never did even if Spock once entertained suspicions he might have loved her as
more than a daughter, suspicions that the meld with Picard put to rest.
But this Christine has never
been this Sarek's daughter or daughter-in-law, and
given this Spock's ongoing relationship with Nyota—as volatile as it appears to
be—she never will be.
Sarek is free to desire her.
He is free to marry her. To
have children with her. To make her this Spock's stepmother. To make this
timeline's Saavik, if Spock ever finds her which seems increasingly unlikely,
her granddaughter rather than daughter.
There is no Valeris in this
timeline. This Sybok died trying to escape from Ankeshtan
K'Til, his air tank running out as he attempted to
use the water ducts for egress. He never met Angel as far as Spock knows. Never
had a daughter who would grow up to betray everything she should have held
dear—and then rescue him when he most needed it.
"You knew Christine,
though? Can you tell me that, at least?"
"I did know her. She was
and appears to be here also a woman of extremely fine character."
Sarek nods. "Do you
think it is too soon after Amanda...?"
"I do not. Moth—Amanda
would not want you to be alone."
"I think she would like
Christine." He looks at Spock, as if for confirmation.
"If your Amanda was
anything like my mother, then yes, yes she would."
"That is quite a lot to
give me. If, as I suspect, she was once yours."
"This Christine was
never mine. Nor was she ever your son's." Even though he could have
changed that. One meld, the package of photos he still has, could have
potentially shown this Spock what he was missing. Made him perhaps rethink his
relationship with Nyota.
But Spock has learned over
the decades that pushing people into doing what he wants is not right. He
melded with this timeline's Jim because it was the necessary thing—the needs of
the many to stop Nero. But he could not bring himself to do that to Spock, to
do that to this Nyota when his Nyota was nothing but good to him.
Or to do that to this
Christine, who is even now walking up toward his porch, a wide smile on her
face.
The smile is not for him,
however. She barely knows him.
It has taken all his strength
to maintain that distance. He wants to talk with her, to hear her laugh, to
watch as her eyes light up with emotion.
He wants to touch the woman
he loved even if she is not that woman and he is too old to touch her the way
he used to.
He wants to feel her love
again.
But he will not.
His not-father will.
"Christine. It is a beautiful day."
"It is. Would you like
to walk?" She glances at Spock. "I'm sorry to steal him away."
"You are not, but I will
excuse it." He keeps his tone light, as if he is some kind of indulgent
grandfather instead of a man who wants to challenge his not-father for this
alternate version of the love of his life.
Sarek rises. "Spock. We
must play chess soon."
They have not played chess.
They speak of it as if it will happen, but Spock knows it will not. This is the
general length of time of their interactions. "Yes. Soon."
He watches her walk away with
his father, standing too close the way she used to with him when she was giving
him advice about T'Pring but also making him fall deeper in love with her.
As his not-father is no doubt
also falling deeper in love with her.
He gets up and is overcome
for a moment with a wave of dizziness, worse than before, and a sharp pain in
his abdomen.
He does not have much time.
Soon, he will be truly alone. And he has told no one he is dying. He does not
want his katra housed in this timeline's hall of the ancestors. He wants only
to be free of this place.
He will be nothing to this
universe, but there is another Spock here whose katra will be retained, so it
is fitting.
He makes his way to his
bedroom, taking out the package of pictures he has had for so long. He takes
the one out he wishes to send to Spock and puts it in an attractive case and
then spreads the others out on the bed.
This is the last time he can
look at them. They must never be found. Not by this world's Spock or his father
or especially Christine.
She deserves to be happy. To
know nothing of this alternate path she once lived.
He sorts through the photos,
seeing La'an—who in this timeline died in the Gorn
attack so that her brother might survive—with Saavik and Manua. He sees a
lovely shot he captured when he was on the porch of the beach house with
Christine and Saavik running toward him out of the fog. He sees Christine with
his mother, both of them displaying mock horror at something—he cannot remember
what it was. He sees Jim laughing as he teaches Valeris to surf.
But in most of them he sees
Christine, alone and with him. The love in her eyes. The beauty of her. How
young they look, how strong. So much potential.
He scoops the photos back
into the container—making sure he gets all of them—and walks to the recycler,
setting it to incinerate.
He feels a physical pain when
they are destroyed, as if there is nothing left of her now. Even the photo he
is sending to Spock does not have her.
She is free to make of her life
what she will as is this Spock. He believes she will be happy with his father.
He believes his father will be happy with her.
He mourns for this world's
Spock, who will never know what it is to love her, other than possibly as a
parent.
He hopes this Spock does not
realize too late what he could have had. But perhaps he will find a similar if
different love with Nyota, one that endures over time to the point where he
will never understand wanting another.
A sudden pain in his abdomen
bends him double, and he rips off the medical sensor his Vulcan doctors have
asked him to wear so they can monitor his health.
"Your monitor has been
removed," a soft female voice says.
"Yes, I am going to
shower." He has made it a habit to forget to put the monitor back on for
hours after a shower. They think he is senile, not that he has been preparing
for his death.
If they do not know he is
dying, they cannot save his katra.
Once he thought his katra so
important he imposed it on a friend with no warning and no care for how it
might affect him. Perhaps this is his penance for that?
"Please do not forget to
reactivate the monitor."
"Of course not." He
sounds offended, the way his father did at the end in the memories Picard
shared. An old man who would never do such a thing.
He slides down the wall and
watches as the monitor goes into sleep mode.
His breathing becomes more
ragged, the pain in his abdomen increases and something is wrong with his
vision for there is a black vortex in front of him, like the black hole he
opened with the red matter. It steadily grows as the pain becomes intolerable.
Then the black is everything,
cold with a whistling sound that should not exist in a vacuum, and he closes
his eyes and waits for what will come as the pain becomes the only thing he can
feel.
Suddenly, even through closed eyelids, he can tell he is in a bright
space. He feels...solid. But different.
Strong. Young. With
absolutely no pain.
He opens his eyes and sees he
is sitting on a biobed in sickbay. La'an and Pike are there as is M'Benga.
Christine is explaining her research.
He knows this moment: it is
the first day they met.
It is the day he first knew
true love.
He fears this is just his
mind, easing his way into the final moments of death. His version of the
near-death experience so often reported. The tunnel was dark, not light, but
here are the friends to lead him home.
Only she is speaking as he
remembered, not giving him instructions for the afterlife. Holding up the
hypospray, she says, "I modified it for you. But Vulcans are more complex
and your half-human genome is unique. So... it might not last as long the first
time."
He remembers the pain from
her process—and her walking away to work on La'an.
But this time there is no
pain. And she does not move away, smiling at him in a way he is sure she did
not do that day, as she says, "I said it won't last as long the first
time. Like how our bond lasted way longer the second time we did it. On Risa. With"—she
leans in and whispers—"wigs and restraints and lace." She backs up
and is smiling the exuberant smile he remembers from back then, before the loss
and the pain. "Captain, do I have permission to make out with your science
officer?"
"Sure, we don't really
need to go on this mission anyway."
He is confused. Is this not
his mind playing out the memory? "But Una?"
Chris grins. "Is in my
quarters. Hopefully wearing very little."
"And..." What was
the name of the woman on Talos IV? Ah, yes, "And Vina?"
"Is also in my quarters
with hopefully very little on."
"They seem to get on
really well," La'an says. "I'm more than a little jealous, sitting
here waiting for my wife to finally show up." She hops off the biobed and
walks over to him. "Overachieving landing in a brand-new universe, weren't
you?"
"Yeah," Chris says.
"That was a little over the top, Spock."
"I did not do it on
purpose. I tried to minimize the damage."
"At ease, old friend. We're
just jealous we didn't think of that. Let's give these lovebirds some privacy,
La'an."
She gives him a very tight
hug. "Nice to see you again, Dad." Then she begins to laugh.
"I wanted to call you that so many times but chickened out. I think I may always
call you that from here on out." She turns to go. "I'll be with my
parents and brother. When you two get sick of each other, pop over. I'd love to
introduce you to them, Spock."
Chris makes a face. "You
don't need to pop over to my quarters any time soon because I'm a very, very
busy man." His expression is so silly—and also happy—Spock cannot be
embarrassed at his former captain's apparent sexual excesses. "But I'll
let you know when the next Captain's Dinner is." He winks at him, then
follows La'an out.
M'Benga begins to shimmer.
"I need to go. Rukiya's giving me a tour of the
universe. It is good to see you, Spock." And then he's gone.
"All alone in
sickbay." Christine puts her hand on the meld points and the bond surges
into life, and he feels almost overwhelmed with the sheer vitality of her and
her love. "Whatever will we do in here?"
"Computer, lock sickbay
doors."
"Oh, Spock." She
fans herself as if about to faint. "Be still my heart."
"I will make love to you
on every one of these beds."
"Pretty big talk for a
dead guy."
"I am that? This is not
my mind's attempt to create order out of the chaos of my body's death?"
"Nope, you're really
dead. As a nurse, doctor, scientist and every other damn thing I've been, I'm
qualified to say that."
He can feel her humor through
the bond.
And her love.
"I've missed you so,
Christine."
"I never left you. And
kudos for letting the me of that other universe do her own thing."
"You often told me not
to push."
"And you actually
listened. Who knew?" She pushes him to his back and begins to pull off his
pants. "Ready for paradise?"
"It will only be
paradise if you are in it."
"Awww,
you've been practicing those sweet nothings?"
"I have not. As you well
know, I thought the afterlife would be being installed in a wall of other katras."
"True. Well, you're in
luck because I'm not going anywhere and I'm way more interesting than a bunch
of old katras." She begins to undo her jumpsuit.
"Please tell me there is
lace under that."
"Now why would there be
lace? Think I'd go and get all gussied up just because the love of my life
decided to finally join us?"
"I believe the odds are
in my favor, yes." He sits up, pulls her to him, and kisses her, a long
and deeply passionate kiss. The bond surges as he touches her. It feels
stronger here, more profound. "I love you. My life has been halved since
you left me."
"I know." She
strokes his hair gently. "I wanted you to find love again."
"It was not to be."
He kisses her again, more lightly this time. "And now I have you again. So I do not need to." He lets her go. "Were you
not doing something before I so rudely interrupted you?"
"Oh yeah." She
slips her arms free and lets the jumpsuit slide to the floor.
Her lingerie is a color he is
not sure he has ever seen before—or maybe he can now see farther on the
electromagnetic spectrum? It is beautiful and delicate and covers very little
of her.
And it is, most definitely,
lace.
FIN
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