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.

We'll Meet Again

by Djinn

 

Part 3:

 

Kirk was just coming back from buying a round of drinks for some of his former students when he saw Chris coming down the hall, lost in thought. She looked up and smiled, but it was a weird one.

 

He waited for her and put his arm around her as he palmed them in. She had stuff in his quarters now. Toiletries, clothing. She barely used her quarters.

 

He loved it.

 

"Jim, I have a lot to tell you."

 

"Oh, fuck, did you and Spock—"

 

"No, this actually has nothing to do with him." She pulled him to her and kissed him. "But sit down. I'll get us drinks, yeah?"

 

"Yeah."

 

She made short work of that and joined him on the couch. "So, first of all you need to know that The Creep was my advisor—the same guy who sent me here."

 

"Ohhhh." Had she not told him because she thought he'd think badly of her for that? "Okay."

 

"Really? Okay?"

 

"Yeah. We love who we love, right? But you can tell me stuff like that. It's okay."

 

"So he's getting a divorce and wants me back. Not just to him but to Stanford."

 

This was not okay. He looked down, trying not to feel the same way he did when Carol told him to choose, when Janice made their life a living hell.

 

When Marela had been taken away screaming. He'd tried to stop the guards. He'd earned himself some real pretty bruises.

 

"Hey, hey, hey—where'd you go?" She was unclenching fingers he didn't realized he'd clenched. "I told him no."

 

"You did?" He started to laugh. "You did?"

 

"I did. But we have some things to talk about."

 

"Okay."

 

"The captain is not in the mood to lose me. He'll put in papers for me to convert. But what I'd convert to is the question."

 

He nodded. "If you moved to a science billet, no more us."

 

"Unless we got married. Which uh no."

 

"No never? Or no not right now?"

 

She leaned in and kissed him. "No not right now."

 

He felt a huge surge of relief, which was stupid. They'd been together a month. But she felt right; she felt like the one.

 

"Moreover, somehow the contract got written that the POC for the project has to be billeted in medical. And even though Roger wants to swap in someone new—and he usually gets what he wants—the captain believes he can prevent that. So I'll be in a track that maybe I never wanted to be in but I won't lose my project."

 

"What if you do lose your project though? Then what?"

 

"Then I don't know." She looked afraid—and he understood why. This was not what she'd worked for. It was like Carol telling him everything he'd worked for had to be chucked—for her.

 

"Listen to me, Chris. I love you. I know it's early. I know we've both had limited success with long-term stuff. But I love you and I'm willing to be with you in whatever way works for me and you. And you. I will never, ever dictate what you have to do. If Pike can't swing it and you want us to cool it so you can have a science berth, we'll go back to being friends until I'm not in your chain of command."

 

She nodded, her smile very sweet.

 

"Or—and just hear me out—there are term marriages and they were invented a long, long time ago so people like us could serve together. Could be approved for tandem posting. I would not be averse to going that route. They don't mean jack, and eventually I'd want to marry you for real if that's where we want to end up, but it might be a good path to ensure we're together. If that's what you want?"

 

She'd also get to stay near Spock. For once he was glad that might be an inducement.

 

"We can make this work, Chris."

 

"What if I want to leave the ship? Do something new."

 

"Yeah, that's what we Fleeters do." He pulled her to him and kissed her gently. "And we don't cheat on our partner, like the Creep did on his."

 

"No. No, we don't." She was nodding. "We can do this."

 

"Yes, we can. So tell Pike to go ahead."

 

"I already did."

 

He knew he was beaming. "You did?"

 

"Yeah. I can't go back. I just wasn't sure where I was going to go instead. But we'll figure it out, right? Together."

 

"Yes, we will. Together." He pulled her on top of him and began to strip off her clothes. Then he looked up at her. "Oh, was there anything else you needed to tell me before I ravish you?"

 

She laughed. "Just that I love you. Very, very much."

 

##

 

Kirk lay facedown on a ridge next to La'an as they watched the inhabitants of the world Starfleet dubbed Planet BA763-3 but the natives called L'Draev. The society was still pre-warp, but recent volcanic activity had revealed the planet had a deep vein of an ore the Orions were known to need for their propulsion systems. So this was the first step to guarding it from being invaded and having its resources stolen. And probably its people too.

 

He glanced over at La'an. She was scratching her chin. "You too? Chris didn't tell me her special effects itched like crazy."

 

"They usually don't."

 

He waited for more but that was it. "How many times have you been kitted out by her?"

 

"Don't. Don't try to make small talk. I don't need it and I doubt you do either. If you're trying to get to know me better, start with this: I love silence."

 

He laughed, but it was a soft puff of air and she glanced at him.

 

"You find that funny?"

 

"Yeah. Yeah, I do. So damn ballsy and you get away with it."

 

"Oh, you're one to talk, Mister 'I cheated on my final exam.'" She seemed to be studying him but he refused to look over at her. Finally she said, "Your name is legend in the Academy halls. And once you got here, I looked you up to learn more. Not your record, of course. But what's publicly available. You were on Tarsus IV."

 

He sighed.

 

"Your home town considered you a hero for making it home. They made you homecoming king, whatever the hell that is."

 

"My home town was made up of people who barely left the county, much less the planet. I was no hero. And homecoming king is usually just based on looks, which is a pretty shallow way to judge a person."

 

"Says the good-looking guy."

 

"Oh, like you're not turning heads."

 

She almost smiled. "Okay, fine, but why weren't you a hero?"

 

He turned to her. "I was just deemed fit—I didn't get killed. It was nothing like what you went through—and I have read your file."

 

"Trauma is trauma. That's what my fun new therapist says, anyway."

 

He'd hated his therapist when he first got back to Earth and had to see her every other day. "Give it a chance. It sucks until it doesn't."

 

"Good to know." She shifted a bit, and little bits of rock fell back behind them. "You survived. That's heroic in a lot of people's book."

 

He shook his head, seeing Marela again, hearing her scream. "I didn't fight, though. Not at first. Not at the end. We all thought it couldn't possibly happen. No one would kill half the population." He could feel his body reacting to the memories and invoked a calming breathing technique.

 

"Oh, they taught me that one, too." She smiled at him, and he realized it was the first real smile he'd ever gotten from her. "Eugenics haunt us both."

 

"Yeah, but at least you got to fight."

 

She started to laugh, but it was an almost hysterical sound. "You think I fought the Gorn? When I was a child? I survived them because they have a ritual of sending the last survivor of their hunt out on a raft. I did not fight. I ran. And my brother died. And my parents died before that. They told me to be brave and I ran."

 

He heard her using the same pattern of breathing he had just done. "I'm sorry."

 

"And I'm sorry for you. People don't understand. Surviving is its own curse."

 

"Yeah. It really is." He grabbed his distance viewers. "Do those look like Klingons?" He could hear her bringing hers up.

 

"No."

 

"Sure?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Okay. Something about the ridge on that one's forehead looks Klingon."

 

"Christine gave you the same ridge. It's probably what the less intelligent residents have."

 

He felt his forehead and—shit. "Okay, I walked into that. Next time I'll do a better job of knowing what I look like."

 

"Yeah, you should. She can only do so much and for all we know the kind that looks like me is at war with the kind that looks like you."

 

He sighed.

 

"What?"

 

"That's something my brother should be helping Chris with. Figuring out how the society works."

 

"Oh, don't blame him." She started to laugh and it was a mean one. "She bypasses him and goes to Larue or Zhang."

 

"Fuck." He mock pounded his head into the rock. "Big brothers are supposed to be someone you look up to, not look after—or clean up after."

 

"My brother was a good one. I'm sorry yours isn't. Was he on Tarsus IV also?"

 

"No, just me and my dad." Which had been so nice, having his father to himself, no drama because Sam was acting like a dick. So nice until everything went to hell. "You were going to give him an out for trauma?"

 

"It would make me think better of him. Oh well." She scratched her chin again. "I think you must have Christine too distracted. The mods have never itched like this."

 

"Well, I won't deny I like to spend time with her. But I hope I'm not distracting her that much." He hit his communicator. "Kirk to Chapel."

 

"Chapel here. I'm picking up a spike in metrocholomine."

 

"Well, that sounds concerning." He shrugged and made an "I have no clue" face at La'an and she laughed.

 

Actually laughed.

 

"I'd know that laugh anywhere. Are you guys experiencing any weird side effects?"

 

"Yeah," La'an said as she leaned into him to talk into his communicator. "Our chins itch."

 

"Which if someplace is going to itch, is probably a nice, not embarrassing one," he said.

 

Again she laughed. He grinned back.

 

"In your pack," Chris said, clearly not paying attention to his jokes. He loved that about her—he really did not distract her when she was seriously into her work. "You should have some hypos."

 

La'an pulled the pack between them and pulled out three.

 

"Red top, blue top, or green top?" he asked.

 

"Look again. Yellow top."

 

"I looked," La'an said.

 

"Don't be stubborn. You're not any more perfect than I am. Look. Again." Her tone was part cajoling, part lecturing. He found it fascinating.

 

"Shit," La'an whispered as she pulled out the yellow one. "Okay, yeah, yellow one located."

 

"That one should take care of the itch. If you get a cramp in your left thigh, comm me."

 

"That's so specific," La'an said. "Are you joking?"

 

"I'm not. They have weird DNA and weird gasses floating around from some of the plants. Nothing that will hurt you but it's playing havoc with my mods."

 

"Speaking of your mods, we've decided your boyfriend is part of the stupid clan."

 

"Are we on private channel?" he whispered.

 

"You commed her. Don't you know?" she whispered back.

 

"Guys, it's a med channel. It's private. But stop making jokes about my mods. I think he looks hot."

 

"See." He gave her a triumphant grin. Also he was going to remember his girlfriend had almost Vulcan like hearing.

 

"Don't look so happy. She thinks I look hot in mine too."

 

"It's true. I do."

 

La'an made the kind of face that he would have bet she couldn't make: very much a bratty little girl. He grinned and she rolled her eyes.

 

"Guys, I have to go. I'm going to work up a booster to beam down to you. Call me if your thigh cramps—or starts oozing."

 

"Oozing?" He looked at La'an as the channel went dead. "There's oozing with her stuff?"

 

"Only once." She grinned. "And it wasn't me so..."

 

"Who was it?"

 

"Spock. It was...epic. It was kind of like this chartreuse pus. Vulcan dignity retreats in the face of chartreuse pus."

 

He was laughing as he picked up his viewers. "So you don't like him?"

 

"Not a huge fan, no. But...he's smart. And he's a good officer."

 

"Without question." He decided to take a risk. "But he hooked Chris first."

 

"Yes. Yes, he did. And I was waiting until she got him out of her system one way or another but then it didn't seem like she would and Oriana needed me, so I left. Only to find you when I came back."

 

"That had to suck."

 

"Only if you last." She had a smile that was both taunting and adorable. "We'll see."

 

"You matter to her."

 

"I know. And she matters to me. Hurt her and I will kill you slowly and with great pleasure."

 

"Roger that."

 

##

 

Chapel was in her office, studying the way the metrocholomine had interfered with the genetic mods. This was why field testing was so critical; they'd never run into this kind of environmental contamination on the planets Stanford had sent them to for trials. Even with a hefty Starfleet contract behind them, they'd been limited to five worlds. All of them safe and known, which was so not the point.

 

She heard a cough at her door and looked up. Sam Kirk. Just who she didn't want to see. So pissed off about the options offered to him—about basically being booted off the Enterprise—he was leaving the service and going civilian. Was he here to say goodbye before he shipped out after dinner? Because she really didn't think that was necessary. "I'm kind of busy right—"

 

He came in anyway, hit the door shut, and sat down. "Pretty sure I don't care, Chrissie." A name he'd taken to calling her in a way she really hated. But only when Jim wasn't within earshot. "We need to talk."

 

"Do we, though?"

 

"We do. See, I'm leaving and my baby brother is staying here. And I'm going to be rock solid honest with you. I don't like you with him."

 

She could do this so many ways. She could be sweet, which she'd sort of tried to be, but why? He was an asshole and he was always going to be an asshole. "And why is that, Sammy."

 

He laughed. "You're always one with a quick reply. I used to think you were fun. Before that nightmare mission. Before you took up with my brother."

 

She just waited; silence was a powerful tool and underutilized.

 

But he just stared back. "Yeah, my old man used to try that trick on me. Because I wasn't carbon copy number 1 like Jim was carbon copy number 2. I know I say shit people don't like. I know I do things people don't like. But you know what? Despite everything that my father did to try to pull my brother away from me, he failed. And I love Jim. I want the best for him. And you—well, you're not it."

 

"Why's that?" She kept her tone even, like she was asking him why water was wet.

 

"We have a tradition in the Kirk family. My dad didn't cheat on my mom. I may be a jerk sometimes but I love my wife and I've never been unfaithful."

 

"And you're worried Jim's going to break that trend?"

 

"No, not him. You. I think you're not in it for the long run. I think you're using my brother."

 

"Why? For professional advancement?"

 

He laughed. "Stanford girl. MIT girl. Of course you'd think that's what I mean. You know I'm a scientist too, right—a freakin' biologist? Not that you've ever acknowledged that."

 

"Sorry, didn't know it mattered." And he had a general bio degree with an emphasis on xenoanthropology from a school that—well, it wasn't hard to get into. She did read the files when she checked people in.

 

"Yeah, right." He leaned in. "I mean to make someone break his engagement. I saw you leave the memorial. It was more important to you to be with your Vulcan boyfriend than honor the dead."

 

She met his eyes. "Spock is not my boyfriend. As you noted, he's engaged."

 

"I know. But do you even care? I mean, you were very popular until you started hanging out with him."

 

"Are you following us around?"

 

He had a really guilty look. "I admit I'm fascinated with Vulcan mating practices because they're so hidden. So yeah, maybe."

 

"That's messed up. And possibly a breach of some Starfleet reg. But I don't know them all yet and you won't care since you're leaving."

 

"Effortlessly cold. No wonder you like Vulcans." He stood up. "The last thing Jim needs is another icy blonde scientist. One broke his heart. Two will kill him."

 

She'd been about to give him the full force of how pissed off she was, but when he talked about Carol, his voice changed. This maybe wasn't really about her: this was about his brother.

 

"You had to pick up the pieces from Carol Marcus?"

 

"I did. There were a few nights, after his son was born and he wasn't allowed to see him, that I was afraid to leave him so I just camped out on his sofa." He was staring out the viewscreen. "Everyone thinks he's shallow. That he's just got a new girl every night. But that's just a mask he wears from what happened to him when he went to..."

 

"He told me. Tarsus IV."

 

"Yeah. Nightmare. Fucking nightmare planets for the Kirks." He turned and his expression was different. A little softer. "He wants to settle down. He wants to be loved. Can you do that? Can you love him without hurting him?"

 

She got up and walked over to him. "Jim's not the only one who wears a mask to keep from getting hurt. Very few people get to see the real me, much less practically live with me—or me with him." She didn't look away even when he leaned in, as if he could tell she was lying from her pupils or something.

 

"You promise you won't hurt him?"

 

"No one can promise that. I can only promise to try not to. And to never hurt him the same way twice if I screw up."

 

He nodded, as if he knew that was all he was going to get, and turned to leave.

 

She stopped him with a quick touch on his arm. "But for the record, I don't like you coming in here this way. I don't like you calling me by a name I don't use. I don't like you using 'popular' to mean 'slut.' As far as I'm concerned, Sam, the only thing we have in common is we both love Jim. I hope I never see you again, although I bet that won't be the case since I'm with him."

 

"Yeah, I'm not looking forward to holiday dinners around the Kirk family table either." He turned, slammed the door opener button, and left.

 

A second later La'an was at the door. "What did he want?"

 

"Your chin is still so red. Come on." She led her out into a deserted sickbay and had her hop up on the biobed. "I don't understand. Jim's cleared right up."

 

"What did he want, Christine?"

 

"To tell me he didn't like me with his brother." She scanned La'an for a moment, then met her eyes. "He thinks I'll hurt Jim."

 

"You might. Then again you might not. Nobody knows that when they start a relationship."

 

So true. She hadn't expected Roger to hurt her. She'd thought he'd been telling the truth, that his wife didn't understand him and his marriage would be ending very soon.

 

Her scanner beeped and Chapel stared at it then fed the data into her tricorder. "Got you, you little motherfucker." She held a hand up. "Stay right there." She grabbed the devices and went to the med compounding station, mixing things together to counteract the agent—trace at best—that had mixed with the metrocholomine. She had no idea what it was yet, but she knew how to stop it.

 

She came back with a hypo and released it into La'an's arm. As she watched, the skin began to return to normal. "Does it itch again?" She did not want to make one thing better and bring back the worse symptom.

 

"No, feels normal."

 

She touched her chin gently. "And it's back to being La'an colored." She smiled. "I like it this way, not angry red."

 

"Yeah, I was getting stares. If you didn't get it fixed soon, I was going to have to hurt you."

 

"Right." She sighed and leaned her head into La'an's shoulder. "Am I a slut?"

 

"Not that I know of." Then she pushed her back so she could see her face. "Wait, did he say you were?"

 

"La'an, down. He did not say it."

 

"So he implied it?"

 

Sometimes it was a pain how smart La'an was. Chapel shrugged.

 

"He's lucky he's leaving. That's all I can say. Maybe I'll be in the transporter room when he beams out. Remind him you have friends, and those friends have knives."

 

"Do not take a knife to the transporter room."

 

"But you're okay with me going and glaring at him? He leaves tonight."

 

"I know. And no, don't go. Jim's seeing him off. He loves him."

 

"Yeah, it's that whole family thing. We don't pick them and we have to love them. Blah, blah, blah." But she looked sad for a moment, because Chapel knew she'd loved her family.

 

And she'd adored her brother.

 

"I'm sorry he upset you, Christine. For what it's worth, your Kirk is someone I might not mind as much as I thought. He's not like Sam."

 

"I know. He's a really good guy. I'd love it if you two could be friends."

 

"Don't ask for miracles."

 

##

 

Spock sat working in the lab, trying not to feel overly satisfied that the older Kirk would be off the ship in fifty-four minutes. He had been a challenge to manage and Spock was not even the direct supervisor, who he pitied.

 

The door opened and Christine walked in. Her energy seemed...strange. Subdued.

 

"Hello," she said softly.

 

"Good evening."

 

"I know we said that we'd split the time..."

 

"You said that, Christine." He kept his voice as gentle as possible. "Sharing is agreeable."

 

"Okay." She went to her area and spent some time at work, then murmured. "I've missed this. Missed you."

 

"And I you."

 

They worked in a companionable silence for nearly thirty minutes, and he found himself again drawn back to T'Pring's ultimatum. That there would be no children if he was not physically with her. The more time that passed since their conversation—and as he researched how long it would take him to have the rank or freedom he had told her he would seek—the more he resented what she had decided for them.

 

Did he have no say in this? She had asked him to marry her when he was in Starfleet. He did not join after the fact.

 

She knew—she absolutely knew who he was.

 

"May I ask you a question?" His voice sounded strange in the silence.

 

"Sure." But she did not turn around the way she would have before, or roll her stool over to him, her smile bright. He missed that. "Are you going to ask?"

 

He realized he was lost in a past when Christine was still—was still his. She had been his and now was not.

 

"Yes, I apologize. It is advice that I need. On T'Pring."

 

She whirled her stool around. "Oh, come on. You told me discussion about you and her was off limits. This is how this whole mess started—me giving you pointers."

 

"Please?" He was surprised at how desperate he sounded, how his voice broke.

 

So, evidently, was she. She rolled her stool over and said, "Okay. Okay fine. What's wrong?"

 

"I have opened myself—my mind, what occurred between us—to T'Pring as we discussed."

 

"Can I ask something before you go on?" When he nodded, she narrowed her eyes and asked, "Did she reciprocate? Did you have access to her mind?"

 

"Access to her mind was not the issue." Or was it? He had been blaming himself for the katra switch, but what if she also had resisted merging.

 

"But if she was so deep into your mind, couldn't you get something from hers?"

 

"Christine, you do not understand how it was that morning. What she was doing." The absolution she was giving him for a lifetime of pain.

 

"Fine. Forget I asked. Where is the question you said you needed to ask?" She sounded tired of him, as if she now thought sharing space had been a bad idea.

 

"I wish to have children. T'Pring does as well. But she has mandated we will not have them unless I am physically present with her."

 

"Physically present as in out of Starfleet? Or as in on an accompanied tour?"

 

"I think the latter would count." But T'Pring had already changed the playing field once. Would she do it again and say only Vulcan would do as the place to raise their offspring?

 

"What is it with these women? You marry a Fleeter, you're in for a certain life." She rolled her eyes, but he did not think she was making light of his issue. This sounded larger, but he did not understand to what else she might be referring.

 

He waited.

 

"Okay, I'm going to try to separate myself out of this. I'm going to treat this like a science problem."

 

"A reasonable approach."

 

"Background: you have chosen T'Pring over me or anyone else you might have known in the past because, of all your romantic options, she offers you the path you most want to take. The one that allows you to be Vulcan—to be accepted into Vulcan society in a way you have always wanted to—but also allows you to express and explore your human side. Within reason of course."

 

"Affirmative."

 

"Paradox one: You chose a Vulcan yet appear to have no plans to ever live on Vulcan."

 

He looked down.

 

"Paradox two: Despite averred desire to be integrated successfully through union with this woman into Vulcan society, you have chosen a career that will almost certainly ensure you can never live on Vulcan during your active duty and, in fact, might spend very little time with her."

 

He nodded and met her eyes. "Addendum: She could however join me if I am stationed off a ship. If that remains an acceptable option for her."

 

"Has she shown any desire to explore the cosmos with you? To live on some starbase or another planet—especially Earth?"

 

He shook his head.

 

"Do you believe she would thrive in such a position?"

 

"She would make a most excellent hostess, as was demonstrated at our dinner."

 

"All we did was talk about sex. In various ways."

 

"I believe that was due to you and I and—" He gestured around the lab, unwilling to voice that they had enjoyed each other here. Even if he thought of it frequently. "She could find other topics of conversation."

 

"T'Pring has a career. Do you believe she wishes to trade it for being your accompanied spouse?"

 

He let himself frown. "Her career is off Vulcan. And I could not stay at Ankeshtan K'Til with her as her accompanied spouse if the circumstances were reversed so our situation is not that different. She must return to Vulcan if she wishes to cohabitate. She must give up her career—or modify it. There are therapists who work with less severe cases."

 

"But if she were to join you off Vulcan, what would she do?"

 

"She could work virtually. I do not see the point of this."

 

"You chose a Vulcan, Spock. A Vulcan with a career that is pretty damn specific to Vulcan. A Vulcan who wants you there to help raise the kids. Go back to Vulcan. Be a father, if that's what you want."

 

"I do not wish to ever live there again." It was out before he could call it back.

 

"Oh, Spock. You just always want to have the best of both worlds, don't you? Her and me. Vulcan and Starfleet. Kids but your freedom."

 

"Would you make me choose? Would you raise our children alone?"

 

"We're not having children, Spock. Because you didn't choose me. And now I'm with someone else."

 

"Will you raise his children alone?"

 

"That, my friend, is none of your business." She pushed back. Sliding across the floor, away from him, back to her space. "She's not saying move back or I'll leave you. She's saying be with me if you want kids, or we won't have kids. Right?"

 

He nodded.

 

"So choose. If you want kids, be with her. If you don't, keep doing your own thing. It seems pretty fucking straightforward to me." She turned around.

 

He stared at her back. "What if it is not? For me, I mean. What if I regret my choice?"

 

"That's just life, buddy. We have choices, we choose, we get it right sometimes, we fuck it up others."

 

"Christine, I am saying..." What was he saying? What did he want to say to her? "I am willing to reconsider my choice."

 

She turned and studied him. Then, her face very tender, she walked over and put her hands on his face the way she used to. The way he loved because he could feel her regard for him like a hot breeze warming his often chilled bones.

 

But then he caught something else. Her regard, yes. But resolve. No anger. More acceptance than actual emotion. More exhaustion with him than pain.

 

She leaned down so they were eye to eye. "There's a human saying. I feel it's very applicable in this instance. 'You snooze. You lose.'" She let go of his face and said, "I'm having trouble accessing the data in the transporter biofilter file. Are you using it?"

 

He was thrown by her abrupt shift and it took him a moment to turn and check. Yes, he had it open but was not using it so he closed it. "I have exited."

 

"Such a pain having these so locked down. So much more fun when you can just go where you want, play with the data you want and then close it up and go home for the night."

 

He knew that was a hidden message about his desire to keep her close while not letting go of T'Pring. But it was also true about working with documents the captain wanted closely held, so he did not say anything other than, "Indeed."

 

##

 

Kirk watched Sam dissolve into the transporter beam and felt the mixture of emotions he always felt when saying goodbye to his brother. Sadness—and relief.

 

He stopped by his quarters to see if Chris was there then headed to the lounge. He saw La'an sitting by herself at the bar—seats left empty to either side of her and she looked quite fine with that—but no Chris.

 

He slid in next to her. "Christine not here?"

 

"In the lab, I think."

 

She didn't usually go this late. Not since she and Spock split the lab schedule up. The professional part of him was glad if they'd finally decided to act like grown-ups about this. The insecure boyfriend hated it. They'd had sex in that lab. Sense memory was powerful.

 

A hand waved in front of his eyes. "Where did you go? It's bad enough you're sitting with me but ignoring me too?"

 

"Sorry. Was just seeing Sam off. Bit distracted."

 

"Sure, that's why you were distracted. You think I don't know about how Christine and Spock weren't sharing lab time? But I am sorry about your brother. That it didn't work out better with him and the ship."

 

"Thanks."

 

He waved the bartender over and said, "Give her another of those and I'll have my usual."

 

"Yes, sir."

 

"Thanks. But you'll be sorry. My usual is an eighteen-year-old Balvenie."

 

He laughed. "Good taste. My usual is eighteen-year-old Glenmorangie. They had to start ordering it just for me." Then he laughed. "Do they order that just for you?"

 

She laughed and nodded. "Fear is a useful thing sometimes."

 

"Lonely, though. The bar is packed and yet there are seats next to you."

 

"I've made it clear there are only a few people who get to slide onto those stools."

 

"Can I guess the list?"

 

"Go for it."

 

"Okay, well, Number One, of course. And the captain. Christine, naturally." He narrowed his eyes. "You might tolerate Uhura on a good day."

 

"But never twice in a row. She'd latch on and I'd never shake her."

 

"And you don't like her enough to want her to latch on?"

 

"She's an innocent. And people I love often suffer. I'd rather not do that to her."

 

"Okay, so everyone who can sit here with impunity is someone who you think can take care of themselves?"

 

"Or who know the risk—who really understand who I am. What I'm capable of. And what I'm not."

 

"Okay, I'm thinking you might let M'Benga sit here."

 

"You're right. You'll never get the last one." Her face clouded, sorrow clear.

 

"Hemmer. I read the report. I know you were with him when he sacrificed himself."

 

She swallowed visibly and threw back her drink just as their new ones appeared. She took a long drink from her new one too. Then she nodded. "You really have read in. I respect that about you."

 

"How can anyone possibly manage people if they don't know them?"

 

"People do it all the time."

 

"Yeah. Badly."

 

"Amen to that." She seemed to relax a little, leaning on the bar so she was sort of turned to him. "When are we getting a new chief engineer?"

 

"I don't know."

 

"Do you have any say in who comes?"

 

He shook his head, then wondered if he should be sharing things like that with her. Fuck it—she wouldn't tell. "I'm not sure the captain does either. Engineering is sort of like medical. A world unto itself."

 

"Oh, he'll have input."

 

He turned to face her, also leaning on the bar. "Why are you so sure?"

 

"Because he just will. I doubt very much he views engineering as that different. Medical, of course he does. They really are different. But he still chose M'Benga."

 

"Hmm." On the Farragut, it had been clear the captain and CMO were nothing more than colleagues. Respectful and pleasant, but not friends

 

La'an nodded. "He's very much into synthesis. I think it's the chef in him. Putting things together in harmonious or unexpected ways to achieve a beautiful result."

 

"That's very poetic."

 

"I used to write poetry. Before the Gorn chased it out of me." She shook her head, as if pushing back both memories: before the Gorn and during. He thought all that mattered for her was the after, the now and going forward.

 

He understood. He'd had to do the same thing after Tarsus IV. And after Carol and his son became a thing that existed, but not for him.

 

David. He tried not to think the name. He'd had no say in it. He'd never said it to his little boy. Never called him in for dinner. Never picked him up when he came home from—no! This was wallowing. He didn't do it.

 

He realized La'an was watching him, a patient look on her face.

 

"Did you say something?"

 

"I did. Were you in the past?"

 

"Yeah, but not the one you think." He shook his head, making it clear he wasn't going to share. "So, you don't think engineering is special? Some might argue in your analogy of Pike the Chef, that engineering isn't an ingredient, but rather the grill."

 

"Hmmm. And what is medical?"

 

He laughed. "The fire extinguisher."

 

She chuckled at that. "Okay, but you have to have the right kind of grill or stovetop or hotplate or oven or whatever. It's an integral part of the process."

 

"Agreed. But is it the chef who decides, or the restaurant owner?"

 

"Pike is the restaurant owner. Once you realize that, you'll understand him completely. I mean, I get that in this analogy Starfleet Command is the owner. Or maybe the Engineering Corps is the franchisee and Starfleet Command is the franchise owner. But this isn't that kind of restaurant because he doesn't allow it to be. He'll get his input in. And if you become captain someday, you'll need to fight for yours."

 

"But I'm not a chef. Or a mad scientist like Christine. Or...what would you be?"

 

"Just a security wonk."

 

"You're not 'just a' anything. But I don't know what you'd be."

 

"A general. Marshalling forces. Security is pretty old school." She smiled at him, no mockery present. "You're a coach."

 

"That's not a bad thing to be. I like to help people grow."

 

La'an gave him a different smile and gestured toward the door with her chin, which he realized was no longer red. "Our mad scientist is here."

 

"And she fixed you." He touched her chin with a tentative finger, sure he might lose it so he pulled it away quickly.

 

"She did." As Chris walked up behind them, La'an leaned back. "Miracles might be happening."

 

Christine wrapped her arms around her and grinned at him. "I told her you'd be a good friend."

 

"Are you saying she likes me? I thought she was just tolerating me?" He winked at La'an to take away any sting of being referred to in the third person when she was sitting right there.

 

"You're all right. I guess." Her smile was an easy one. She put her hands over Chris's arms and leaned up. "Do I have to move over so you can sit next to lover boy?"

 

He was suddenly mesmerized by the sight of them like that. How gorgeous they looked. The warmth of their laughs when he said, "Yeah, I just go by Jim now. Lover boy is so last year." The dual roll of their eyes.

 

He suddenly really wanted to be on the middle stool.

 

He knew better than to say that though. He was just being a stupid guy. Enjoying the affection between two brilliant women and thinking he might be invited to join in if it ever was more than just affection.

 

Chris leaned her head on La'an's shoulder but worked a hand free to reach out to him. "I'm not going to stay long and I don't want a drink. Just was lonely for you."

 

He squeezed her hand. "Were you burying a hatchet?"

 

"Hopefully literally," La'an said with such perkiness that he had to laugh.

 

"I was. And...letting go. He and I have a job to do. And maybe, someday, we'll be friends again. But whatever. The job is the thing that matters right now, and it was becoming inefficient to work separately."

 

La'an glanced over at him and raised an eyebrow as if asking if he believed her. He nodded and said, "Your first officer approves."

 

"And the man I love?"

 

"He trusts you."

 

"Fuck," La'an said softly. "He's a goddamned keeper." She turned to glare at him and parroted back, "He trusts you."

 

Chris let go of him and hugged La'an tightly, kissing her cheek as she did it. "Honey, I told you he was."

 

"Pffff." But she looked over at him and gave him a sweet smile and quick nod. Like he passed muster with the general.

 

"Sam leave okay?" Chris asked gently.

 

"Yeah." He felt her rub his hair and leaned into her hand. "Let's not talk about him."

 

"Okay." She didn't sound troubled he didn't walk to talk about it or overly glad either that Sam was gone even though he knew she had to be. Just supportive.

 

He felt a quick pat on his knee and realized since Chris still had an arm wrapped around La'an and a hand in his hair, that it was La'an who'd done it. And that Chris was laughing.

 

"What? Is that not the way to be supportive?"

 

"It's perfect," he said, feeling his eyes close and a huge yawn take over, one he couldn't hold back but managed to cover with his hand.

 

"You should take this one home, Christine." La'an threw back her drink. "Thank you for the drink, Jim." She eased out of Chris's embrace and slipped off the stool.

 

Chris laughed. "She called you Jim. You really are making progress."

 

"She's interesting." But he could see why Erica didn't get on with her. They were such extreme ends of the openness spectrum—but both with such deep pain. "Let's go to bed."

 

"That'd be great. It's been a long day." She pulled him to her once he stood up. "You know I'll be careful, right? With your heart?"

 

"I do." He smoothed her hair back. "And I'll be careful with yours."

 

##

 

Spock approached Pike on the bridge and asked, "May I speak with you in private when it's convenient?"

 

"My office? After shift?"

 

"Thank you." He went back to his station and considered how to broach what would be an utterly self-serving request. But Christine had actually been helpful with her approach. It had made him try to see the problem with T'Pring and children in a different way.

 

"Spock? You coming?" Pike was at the elevator and Spock's replacement was waiting quietly for him to finish what was no doubt assumed to be important work, not just a screen he had called up to make it look like he was busy while he mentally rehearsed different approaches with Chris.

 

"Yes." He cleared the screen. "The station is yours." He hurried to catch the lift the captain was now holding.

 

"You look off your game. You eaten yet?"

 

"I would not want to impose."

 

"I have to make something for me. So it's no imposition."

 

"Sir, this is a personal matter and you may not wish me to stay long enough to eat dinner once I have asked it."

 

"Are you breaking up with T'Pring?"

 

"No." He knew he looked offended.

 

"Good. And settle down. You definitely need some food. How about grilled cheese and tomato soup? It's your favorite. I can replicate it if you really don't want me to go to any work, but it's going to taste like shit if I do."

 

"I agree. Your version is vastly preferable."

 

"Then it's settled." He sent the lift to his deck and led Spock down to his quarters. "Sit. Juice?"

 

"Yes. Please."

 

He waited as Chris poured himself a scotch and fixed his juice, then said, "May I be frank?"

 

"Why do you ask me that, Spock? We're friends. Just say what you want to say."

 

"Thank you. You need context. When T'Pring was on the ship, we had many frank discussions. I believe I owe you a debt of gratitude for intervening in whatever small way you did."

 

"Just brought her over for needed info and gave her some quarters to freshen up in if she wanted."

 

"As I said." He enjoyed his captain's self-satisfied grin. "But one conversation was troubling. She indicated—no, she mandated—that if we were to have children, we must raise them together. In physical proximity."

 

Chris glanced back. "No ships then?"

 

"Correct. Unless Starfleet adjusts its policy to include families."

 

"Not in this century, my friend."

 

"I agree. I am well aware how many excellent posts there are that do not involve separation from family, especially for a scientist."

 

"I was just going to say that. So what's the problem?" He was pulling the meal together with such ease. No wasted motion. Spock always enjoyed watching him cook.

 

"T'Pring has never left Vulcan except for short trips. She has not had prolonged exposure to those of other species. Those who do not embrace logic." The conferences she would have attended would have been centered on logic in some form, so even those would self-select for people who emulated Vulcans.

 

"Okay. I'm not seeing a role for me to help you in this yet."

 

"I would like to propose that she come to the ship, that she instruct in meditation techniques, in basic logic—I am sure she could suggest other topics. And that she stay for at least a week. I would like to observe her out of her element."

 

"And she's okay with this?"

 

"She does not know." At Chris's expression of annoyance, he said, "I know you have stressed that communication is crucial for a healthy relationship. But her decision about the children was not discussed with me at all. It was a unilateral mandate that took me by surprise."

 

"So, tit for tat?" He set the food down on the counter; it smelled wonderful.

 

"I am not doing this to be spiteful. I need to know if she would prosper in an accompanied tour. This is the only way. And this is also the sort of thing she might do to fill her days when she was not consulting from a distance for Vulcans."

 

"That last part is not as self-serving as you think." Chris sat in his normal spot. "Eat while I think about this.

 

Spock did not argue. He enjoyed the sandwich best when it was just off the pan, dipped into the tomato soup. His mother used to make him this meal when he was a child. His favorite comfort food. Now that he'd had Chris's, though, he found his mother's version to be lacking.

 

In the extreme.

 

He would not tell her that, of course. One insulted one's mother's cooking at one's peril.

 

"I need to be the one to pitch it to her. So it doesn't look like you're manipulating this the way you are." Chris dunked his sandwich into the soup. "This sandwich is also really good dipped in jam or a fruit chutney, if you ever want to branch out."

 

"I will keep that in mind."

 

"Let me look at the calendar, talk to Jim. I won't tell him this is your idea."

 

"Thank you."

 

"No, thank you. No matter how it works out for you, this could be really useful for the crew. Maybe something we want to repeat on other ships if she's willing."

 

"I do not wish to create a monster."

 

"Her or me?" He laughed.

 

"Her. I do not want her to decide she wishes to jump from ship to ship."

 

"Oh, so you get to but she doesn't? Real fair, Spock."

 

"I do not mean it that way. It is simply difficult enough as it is now for us to find time to be together. If she were also to start traveling..."

 

"I get it. Easier to collide with a stationary object than a moving one. Not that you two ever collide." There was a sparkle of merriment in his eyes that always made Spock relax, so warm, so harmlessly fun.

 

But to make Chris happy, he lifted an eyebrow and tried to look very Vulcan. Then he went back to eating.

 

"So...what do you think of Kirk?"

 

"Which one?"

 

"Stop it. You just got rid of the disappointing one. Or do you find them both that way?"

 

"On the contrary. James Kirk seems a fine officer. Very bright. Surprisingly good at three-dimensional chess."

 

"You've played him?"

 

"Several times one night when he first arrived. Perhaps again in the future."

 

"What's his style like when I'm not on the bridge?"

 

Spock considered how to best answer. "He enjoys the chair." Not everyone did. They wanted it, but once in it, were too nervous to relish the moment.

 

"Good. Enjoying the chair is good." Chris stood and went to one of his stasis drawers, digging around, then bringing over some croissants and cheese. "I'm still hungry."

 

Spock had not been going to say anything but he was as well. He helped himself to more food. "Kirk is not afraid to make a quick decision, but when he does it, I generally have the assurance that he has done his due diligence into the matter or the section. He is not afraid to confer with an expert if he is unsure of the right path—like you, he does not view collaboration as a weakness."

 

Chris motioned for him to go on as he tore apart a croissant.

 

"He is unlike you in that he is quite serious. He uses humor but it is...sporadic. And somewhat selective as to who he uses it with. As though it bubbles up from someplace inside but only when he lets it."

 

"And that's different than me?"

 

Spock nodded. "Obviously you have a serious side, but you have always been someone who seemed to relish life, to relish the career you have chosen, the ship you have been entrusted with, the crew you take such care of. He seems more guarded. But you—"

 

"But I what?"

 

"You seem more guarded since the time crystal told you your fate. Although I am not sure most would notice it."

 

"Erica does. Joseph. You. Una for sure, but she's not here now to tell me to snap out of it. That the future is what you make it. Even if you don't have one." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

 

"I heard someone once say that an individual's life should not be judged by what they brought in for themselves but what they sent out into the world. Who they touched. Whether they left the people they interacted with the better for having known them. I know that this is true for me. I do not believe I would be the officer I am without your guidance. And I value your friendship—I did not understand it until you."

 

Chris blinked in the way that meant he was fighting emotion, that he was touched. Spock did not mind. He would give this man any comfort if it helped him face his future with less dread.

 

"Same for me, Spock. I'm glad you're here." He reached over and squeezed Spock's hand for just a moment—but long enough to let him feel everything.

 

That he was moved by Spock's words. That he was afraid. That he was persevering despite the fear. That he was angry. That he would not let anger rule him.

 

And that he loved Spock. Not just as a protégé, almost as a son.

 

In a way Spock's father never, ever had and probably never would.

 

##

 

Kirk sat back in the chair he normally chose, sipping some of Pike's excellent scotch, as they did their end-of-week wrap-up.

 

He was enjoying being first officer even more than he'd thought he would when that was a post to be aspired to, not in. It was still a shock he was first officer here instead of the Farragut where he'd expected to get the nod eventually—where it made more sense he'd have been. He hadn't been wrong that there were some very pissed off people who'd thought they were in line once Chin-Reilly had been taken off the board.

 

To make sure Pike and Starfleet didn't regret their decision, he was doing everything he could to stay on top of ships operations. He read all the section reports, made sure he was up to date on the new or modified regs, even made surprise drop-ins to see what sections looked like when they weren't expecting the senior staff.

 

He wanted to be perfect. Or at least know enough to know what perfect looked like and then do his own thing. He never wanted to be caught flat footed, doing the wrong thing because he hadn't taken the time to research what would and would not tick off Command.

 

He could tell Pike was distracted so wrapped up his last report-out quickly and settled back to enjoy his drink.

 

"So," Pike finally said just as the silence was becoming weird, "I was thinking the crew might benefit from some seminars on meditation, logic—that kind of thing."

 

"We did that on the Farragut. It was helpful. I had to arrange it—after a bad mission. There's a section of Medical that offers that. Bunch of contracted specialists you can choose from."

 

"I was thinking of maybe a Vulcan leading it."

 

"I'm sure they have one. Although humans don't always respond to that kind of meditation."

 

"Oh?"

 

"After Tarsus IV, they sort of struggled with me finding a discipline to help with anxiety—and anger. Let's just say, Vulcan meditation wasn't it."

 

"What you went through was an extreme case. Maybe it would have been helpful if you'd gotten some Vulcan meditation tips before you'd gone through the trauma?"

 

He frowned. "Maybe. But I doubt I would have sought them out before the trauma." He studied Pike and saw the tell he'd learned meant his captain might be pulling something out of his ass. "Are you trying to make something you want to do sound reasonable when it's really not?"

 

Pike nodded. "I rubbed my left temple, didn't I?"

 

He laughed.

 

"Una always tells me to stop projecting 'intent to commit bullshit' that way." He got quiet, the way he always did after he talked about his old first officer in the present tense. "I thought we could ask T'Pring to offer some courses?"

 

"Does she do that?"

 

"It's her job."

 

"No, I mean: does she do that for Starfleet? To bring in a contractor, they have to be on the list with contracts."

 

"We probably wouldn't pay her so they wouldn't need to know."

 

"Why wouldn't you pay her?" His Vulcan instructor had been expensive as hell. Kirk—fed up and angry that he was wasting his time with a man who thought he should just bury his pain in logic—had asked how it was logical to demand so much money if it was in the universe's best interest for everyone to act like a Vulcan. His Vulcan instructor had said it was a well-established rule that humans only valued things that were expensive.

 

This was after he'd told him to let go of Marela as a concept. That she was his lynchpin of pain—not a young goddamned girl he'd loved who'd been killed by a maniac.

 

"Well, T'Pring might be on the ship anyway."

 

"Sir, I'm not following any of this. I get this is what she does, but she does it with Vulcans on their penal colony thing. That's pretty specialized."

 

"You don't like her?"

 

How was that relevant? "As a matter of fact, I found her charming. But from what you're saying, she's not an approved contractor. If you want a list of those who are, I can send it to you." He frowned. "Or are you just playing relationship counselor again?"

 

"Don't hold back, Commander."

 

"Apologies, sir, but you're not being honest with me so all I have to go on is what you've proposed, which might make sense for a private business, but I've dealt with contracts and no section in Starfleet can make your life a living hell faster if you piss them off. And this will piss them off. For the liability issues alone." He held up his hand when Pike started to object. "They will find out. They always do. I saw it happen on the Farragut."

 

Pike let out a long breath.

 

"This is for Spock, right? You're doing this to help him in some way?"

 

He nodded.

 

"It can't be as official as a class. And you can't bring her here to do it. Because that makes it official." He ran his hand through his hair as he thought. "But if she wants to do this, she should just put in a statement of intent with her fees. To get on the roster of those who can be brought in."

 

Pike leaned back and closed his eyes. "I haven't talked to her about this yet. I wanted to invite her to the ship for some quick seminars, not invite her to take a vacation through bureaucratic red tape."

 

Kirk felt like whatever he said at this point he couldn't win, so he just waited.

 

"Can you forget I asked about this?"

 

"I can." He leaned in. "If you told me what the end goal was, I could probably think of a way to make it happen."

 

"The end goal was making my friend happy and settled before I—" He took a quick—almost desperate—sip of his drink and the sadness that sometimes coated everything about him was back. "You're absolutely right, Jim. This was a bad idea."

 

"Does Spock know you're doing this?"

 

Pike nodded.

 

"Will he know I was the one that put the kibosh on it?"

 

"No. He'll understand the issue with contractors. I'm not going to throw you under the bus just because I got sentimental and wanted to help a friend." But he seemed disappointed in him, like Kirk was supposed to just randomly bring on friends and family to the flagship because it would make someone happy.

 

Because it would make a Vulcan happy? That was the most ironic part of this.

 

He didn't want to leave it like this with Pike though. "I can see how helping him would be appealing, when you can't help Commander Chin-Reilly."

 

"You think her case is a done deal? That whatever I do to help her defense is wasted time?" The anger in Pike's voice was immediate and real.

 

"No, sir, I didn't mean it that way." Shit.

 

"You're very black and white, aren't you, Commander?"

 

"I'm actually not."

 

"Could've fooled me." He stood and headed for his desk. "I've got to finish some things up before a Captain's Dinner. Thanks for keeping me out of contracts jail."

 

"Sure." He knew a dismissal when he heard one. "Have a good evening, sir."

 

"Yeah, you too." He absolutely did not sound like he meant it.

 

Trying to figure out how he could have handled that better, he was cheered when he saw Erica as he was walking to his quarters. "Hey, want to grab a drink?"

 

"Sure you're not too busy with La'an?"

 

Was he wearing a sign saying "Please give me excessive amounts of random shit"? Because today was getting old. "She's Christine's friend, Er. And maybe now mine too. Do I have to choose between you and her?"

 

"No. No of course you don't." All the starch went out of her. "I'm sorry. That person I told you about—it's their birthday."

 

She'd been quiet at her post all day. He should have noticed. "I'm sorry. I've got deep pockets and a willing ear. How about I buy you a really nice drink and you tell me about that person?"

 

"You don't have to do that. Christine—"

 

"Christine is busy in the lab tonight. I'm all yours."

 

"Thanks, Jim."

 

##

 

Chapel was trying to be quiet as she came into Jim's quarters. She'd been so focused on the data she was working with that Spock had actually closed up for the night before she had.

 

But she saw that all the lights were on and heard Jim say, "Hold on a second, Emery." He turned and smiled at her.

 

"I can go..."

 

"No, sit, you probably need to hear this." He gestured at the screen, to a woman she'd never seen before in a captain's uniform. "Captain Emery Valdivez, this is soon to be Ensign Christine Chapel."

 

"I'm captain on the Farragut and this one's friend."

 

"It's nice to meet you."

 

"I was telling Jim that word on the celestial street is that Una Chin-Reilly is probably getting out in the next couple of weeks."

 

"What?"

 

"Starfleet and the Federation are under a great deal of pressure from both private advocacy groups and forces within the Federation to take a more case-by-case approach to augmentation."

 

"They want her not just released but reinstated." He turned to the screen. "You got this from your special source?"

 

"He's never wrong."

 

Chapel couldn't read Jim's expression—was he upset about this or not?

 

"I have an opening here as first officer. I'd like Jim back." She smiled at Chapel. "And he's talked you up quite a bit so if you're of a mind to jump ships..."

 

She wasn't sure what to say. So much info—too much after submerging herself in data all night.

 

"You don't have to answer right now," Jim said. "I know we need to talk about this." He took a deep breath. "I was told eighteen months before her trial even started, Em."

 

"Too much of a spotlight on this for them to push it out that long." Her smile was gentle. "I know this isn't what you wanted, but come back. Be first officer here. Where you were happy."

 

Wait—was Jim not happy here? Why the hell didn't she know that?

 

He seemed to read her mind, said without looking at her. "It's just been a weird day, Chris. Em, I'll talk to you in a few, okay?"

 

"Sure." The screen went back to black. He still didn't look over at her.

 

"Are we not good, Jim?"

 

He pulled her to him, kissing her gently. "You're the best part of being here." He eased her back, so they were cuddling on the bed. "I don't know what to do."

 

"Is it even up to you? I mean you haven't been here long. Can you really just leave?"

 

"If Number One is coming back and Em wants me there, then yeah. Yeah, I could." He buried his face in her neck. "Would you come with me?"

 

"No." It was out before she could tell her mouth to slow down, to tell her brain to think about it.

 

"Chris, Stanford's probably going to send another person to run your project."

 

"No. The captain said he'd work it."

 

"Yeah, I think the captain might say that a lot. I had to deal today with something the captain thought would be easy to do and wasn't."

 

"I'm staying here to work on the project." She felt panic fill her. She was converting to stay with her project. Jim couldn't be right. "Computer, has the captain turned on his do not disturb status yet?"

 

"Negative."

 

"Chapel to Pike."

 

"Chris, no."

 

She ignored him.

 

"Pike here. What's going on, Christine?"

 

"I heard Stanford is pushing back—that they're sending a person to take my place."

 

"Well, I don't know who told you that because Doctor Bowmore was more than happy to see it our way. It's your project and it stays that way. She's working with contracts to get it amended for you."

 

"Thank you, sir. I'm glad to know the person who told me was wrong."

 

"I can guess who that was. Screw Roger Korby."

 

"Right. Chapel out." She turned to Jim.

 

"So he does understand contracts."

 

"What?"

 

He shook his head in his "Never mind" way.

 

"Jim, I can't leave."

 

He nodded. "How do you feel about long distance, then?" But he sounded like he already knew her answer, and that he expected it to be bad.

 

"Jim, we talked about this. We'll make it work." She ran her fingers through his hair the way he liked. "But you also said you wouldn't mind staying here. Being captain of beta or gamma."

 

"Do you know how hard it is to have a relationship with someone on another shift? I mean it might work if you don't need sleep, but otherwise..." He looked down. "I thought I would love it here. And I love some of the people. But...I think as far as our captain is concerned, I'm just warming the seat for Number One." He buried his head in her neck and whispered. "I don't think I'm my best self in this job."

 

She held him close. "You've had a bad day. That's all. Don't make any hasty decisions." She kissed his cheek. "But it's nice to know you have a place to land if Number One comes back."

 

"You don't get it. Em can't hold it for me. I have to put my name in the hat now if I want it. And when she picks me, I have to tell Christopher Pike, darling of Starfleet, that I would rather serve under someone else."

 

"Baby, let's just sleep, okay? You do belong here. You do. I don't know what happened with the captain, but it'll feel different in the morning."

 

"Okay. Sure." But he didn't sound convinced.

 

##

 

Kirk woke to find Chris curled around him, one leg over him in a way she didn't normally do. She usually held with such lightness—there but letting him fly.

 

But he'd told her he was leaving. So why shouldn't she grab on?

 

Should he leave?

 

He more than anything wanted to talk to her about it and it was only a half hour earlier than they'd normally wake up. "Chris?" He stroked her hair gently.

 

"Mmm."

 

"Hon', wake up?"

 

She was never eager to wake up—mornings were definitely not her thing—but she eventually opened her eyes and smiled and snuggled closer. "Are you okay? You never wake me up?"

 

"Well..."

 

She laughed. "For sex, yes. But you don't have a 'Me Want Sex' look."

 

He pulled her closer. "I know. I want to talk. I want to try to figure this out."

 

"Okay. I have to say it was news to me that you're not happy."

 

He let out a sigh. "This may not make much sense but it was kind of a revelation to me too."

 

"You had this revelation yesterday?"

 

He moved so he was more comfortable, kissing her for a long moment. "It was so weird. Because the thing is that I love the job itself. I've never been more challenged. I've never felt like I knew a ship better. But..."

 

"But you don't like working for Pike?"

 

"I think I could. If I thought he trusted me." He took a deep breath. "He's got a secret and he's not willing to share it. I don't think it's about Una. Getting her back or some legal shenanigans he's pulled." At her look, he laughed, "You really don't think he's helping the advocacy groups?"

 

"Oh. Wow. I had not considered that."

 

"Yeah, well, do. I get the idea there's nothing he won't do to get her back. But this isn't that. This is a sadness that just permeates him sometimes. Like he's..." He took another deep breath. "Like he's like I was when I got back from Tarsus IV. Broken and hurt and hating that the future became something scary, not exciting. Until I worked through it, with help. But I don't get the idea he's working through it."

 

She was quiet, just listening, her eyes very gentle.

 

"Chris, do you know what it is?"

 

"I don't really work that closely with him. I've never seen that side." She stroked his hand gently. "Have you considered asking him?"

 

"I don't think he'd tell me. But I think Spock knows. I bet Una knew. I've asked Erica and La'an. Neither really see it. But I'm not imagining it. I can read people really well and I see it."

 

"I believe you. You notice everything."

 

"So I'm in this quandary. I love the job but I have a boss who doesn't trust me enough to tell me something I probably should know. Who's doing shit to help..." He shook his head. No, this was not something Chris needed to hear. "Working with Em, I'd have both. The job and a captain who trusts me implicitly. Who actually likes me."

 

"He asked for you, Jim. You don't think he likes you?"

 

"You've been at Captain's Dinners with me. Does he seem to like me? I feel like I'm this weird fauna he's brought on board to study."

 

"Now, you're just paranoid."

 

"Maybe. Or maybe I just want to find reasons to go back home."

 

"The Farragut is home?" She sounded hurt.

 

"The ship and you. But you're not coming. And I don't blame you. This is your project. You want to stay."

 

"But I want to be with you too."

 

He started to laugh, knew it was too bitter, a horrible wound. "La'an's been waiting for me to leave."

 

"I don't love La'an. Not that way and I'm never going to."

 

But she did love Spock. And he'd just put a flamethrower to whatever Pike was doing to help Spock with T'Pring. Would he pay for that? If Spock looked away from his fiancé and to the woman who'd been unable to work in the same room with him—because it was uncomfortable or because she wanted more of what they'd had in that room?

 

He knew Spock wanted more, even if right now he seemed focused on T'Pring. There was something in the way he looked at Chris. Something that had never gone away, when he thought no one was noticing.

 

But Chris was right: Kirk noticed everything.

 

"So you go, and we talk every night, and whenever we can, we see each other. It'll be okay."

 

He loved that she believed that. He wanted to let her belief carry him. To think that maybe this time love would work for him.

 

But she'd loved Spock first. And he'd be here.

 

"We need a code."

 

"Like for texts? India Lima Yankee for 'I love you'?" She was grinning sweetly.

 

"Yeah, but also one that means you need to let go."

 

"What?" She studied him. "Why would I need to do that?"

 

He met her eyes and did not look away.

 

"Are you kidding me? You're not even gone and you've got me with him?"

 

"Chris." He knew he sounded helpless. "Come with me. Please don't stay here with him."

 

"You don't trust me."

 

"I trust you. I don't trust him." He pulled her on top of him but she fought him. "I'm sorry. Forget I said anything."

 

"No, you're right. Because you might meet someone new too. How about IOIS—it's over, I'm sorry?" She looked hurt. "No muss, no fuss. Just IOIS." She pulled away and rolled so her back was facing him. "Why don't you just talk to Pike?"

 

"Even if I did, I'd still end up on a different shift working for a man who doesn't fully trust me—and who wouldn't let me help him when I said I could. You haven't seen me when I get unhappy. I'm not much fun to be around. I don't want to become that guy because that guy will chase you away. I'd rather be on the Farragut typing India Lima Yankee."

 

"Okay."

 

"Please turn around Chris. We may not have many more mornings like this left."

 

She rolled and pulled him to her, kissing him almost frantically. He felt the same way; he didn't want to lose her, but she wouldn't come with him and he couldn't stay. Other couples made separate postings work.

 

Other couples who'd been together longer and had built a stronger framework.

 

Where one half of the couple wasn't already in love with someone else.

 

He forced himself to stop seeing the future and went back to focusing on what was right in front of him.

 

##

 

Spock was doing dishes from Uhura's going away dinner in the captain's quarters. Chris had asked him to hang back so he was making himself useful while he waited. Number One had once told him there was serenity in doing dishes, in cleaning up after a party, and he could see why she might find it so. Making order from chaos.

 

He was having difficulty believing that the next party Chris would throw would be for Number One. When she reported for duty. A free woman.

 

All the work he and Christine had been doing had been unnecessary. He was not sure how he felt about that. That this decision was being made based on political expediency rather than data, rather than logic.

 

Not that he did not look forward to having her back. He very much did. But he worried that a decision made so quickly could as quickly be reversed.

 

As he finished the last of the dishes, Chris joined him. "You didn't have to do them all." But he poured himself a drink and leaned back against the counter. "So I wanted you to hang back because I have an answer on what we talked about. I'm afraid that unless T'Pring is an approved contractor, I can't get her on the ship to teach classes."

 

To his shock, Spock felt a surge of relief. "I see."

 

"I'm sorry. Starfleet Contracts are..."

 

"Yes, I have dealt with them."

 

"You could ask her to submit a proposal, work with her on it, if you think she'd go for that."

 

Spock thought not only would she not be in favor, she would be disappointed in him for going behind her back on this. For a unilateral move.

 

Even if her decision about children was entirely unilateral.

 

He hung up the towel and without turning to look at Chris, asked, "Maybe it is fate. That she not come. That I not know how she would or would not do. That I let this go. No children."

 

"Maybe you don't need to decide this right now, Spock. As I understand it, you have sixty to seventy years before this becomes critical to childbearing capability for T'Pring."

 

Spock nodded. "I know you did your best."

 

"Hey, maybe when Una gets back, she'll have an idea or two."

 

"Perhaps. But I think I will let her settle in before I ask." Spock turned to look at him. "And what will happen to Kirk? "

 

"He's going back to the Farragut as first officer. He put his name in before her release was even announced. I'm trying not to take that personally."

 

Spock felt another unexpected surge of relief, and something else—hope?

 

"And Christine?" he asked as casually as he could.

 

"Why do you care?"

 

"She is my friend."

 

"Spock, I really, really wish I could say she's going with him. Because I think you would be more settled with her gone. I think you and T'Pring would be happier if she was gone. But she's not going anywhere, not while her project is on Enterprise."

 

This time the surge he felt was of satisfaction. She would be here but Kirk would not.

 

She would be here but T'Pring would not be either.

 

He closed his eyes, imagining that everything was as it was before Number One was arrested. Perhaps the night of the memorial. If he had not walked away from Christine. If he had, instead, walked with her to his or her quarters.

 

If what had been done with such desperate urgency in the lab had been conducted leisurely, repeatedly, in his or her quarters. Before she met Kirk. Before he went to Vulcan and allowed the engagement to become official. Before he let T'Pring see all of him through a meld while he saw none of her—Christine had been right about that too.

 

He realized Chris was speaking. "I am sorry. I am distracted by emotion. I did not expect to have Number One back this soon—if ever."

 

"I know. Me neither." His smile was true and not hiding any pain. He was just happy and for that Spock was grateful.

 

"May I ask you an overly personal question?"

 

"You may but I may not answer."

 

"Are you in love with Number One?"

 

"I'm not going to answer that." But his smile answered it for him.

 

"Then I am glad you are getting another chance with her."

 

Would he, too, get another chance with Christine once Kirk was off the ship?

 

Or would she follow Kirk to the Farragut eventually? Would he lose her for good?

 

And would that necessarily be a bad thing? Logically, if his path was with T'Pring, to be the Vulcan he had always wanted to be, respected, Christine needed to not be a part of his life.

 

But did he want that? Or did he want to just be himself. Half Vulcan, half human—and all hers?

 

He excused himself, leaving Chris sprawled happily on his couch. As he returned to his quarters, he saw Christine carrying some things down the corridor.

 

She did not look happy.

 

"Can I help?"

 

Kirk emerged from his quarters, carrying clothing that had to also be hers. "I've got it, Spock." The look he gave him was unfriendly. "I've still got her," he murmured as he walked by him, so low Christine could probably not hear him but Spock could.

 

"For now," Spock said back and watched Kirk stop in his tracks. "I am sorry we did not play more chess."

 

Kirk's grin was unreadable—and a little dangerous. "We never stopped, Spock. Only the king was inconsequential. It was all about the queen."

 

"An interesting perspective."

 

"I'm leaving the ship, not her."

 

He inclined his head, a move most humans often thought meant agreement but on Vulcan only meant "I have heard what you have said."

 

By Kirk's expression just before he went into Christine's quarters, he was fully aware of what the gesture really meant.

 

##

 

Chapel watched Jim as he worked the room. He'd chosen the lounge as the spot for his goodbye. Had turned down a Captain's Dinner and had pissed Pike off from the look the captain was wearing, but Jim had told her that as nice as the dinners were, they excluded too many people. And he wanted to include.

 

"Joke will be on me if no one comes," he'd said, but the place was packed.

 

"I'm so pissed at him for leaving. I actually like him." La'an slipped into the half-round booth next to her. "Quite a turnout. My section loved him because he dropped in, talked shop, and brought beers with him. He must have done that for a lot of the sections."

 

"I think he's really good at what he does."

 

"I think he is too. I mean I'm really glad Una's coming home. But I am going to miss your guy." She put her head on Chapel's shoulder. "For a while there, I was even entertaining fantasies that he could be our guy."

 

"Might be fun." Chapel had also been entertaining those fantasies on some of her wilder days.

 

"Would be fun. Might not be smart, though. Three is such a difficult number to make work."

 

"Well, if anyone could have, I'm sure it would be us." She glanced over to where Spock was standing, looking particularly Vulcan.

 

He seemed to sense her eyes on him and slowly turned, not looking away.

 

"Please tell me you're not going to get re-enmeshed with that idiot."

 

"He's not an idiot."

 

"I know. But he's never going to give you all of himself. Not like Jim will."

 

"Yeah, you're probably right."

 

She saw Erica approaching with a big plate of finger food. "That seat taken?" She was looking at the one next to Chapel but seemed to be asking La'an.

 

"It's a free ship."

 

"I know but we don't really hang out. And we both like to spend time with this girl. So maybe we should get to know each other a bit better? I brought food to ease the process. I will leave the food even if you tell me to get lost."

 

"Direct. I respect that."

 

Chapel patted the seat next to her. "Sit down, Erica." She glared at La'an.

 

"Yes, please sit down, Ortegas." She rolled her eyes at Chapel's even bigger glare. "I mean Erica."

 

"That's better." She snatched a puff pastry from the plate and said, "Do you think the bridge crew is going to miss him, Er?"

 

"Totally. He's a really good first officer. He'll make a really good captain someday."

 

"He won't settle for really good," La'an said as she took some tiny bread and folded prosciutto and cheese into it. "He'll only settle for great."

 

"That's no doubt true." Chapel could tell Spock was still watching her but refused to look over at him.

 

Frankly, he was giving her the creeps.

 

Jim glanced over at her and smiled, the beautiful smile she'd first fell for on the beach. That seemed so long ago. "I'm not going to lose him."

 

"Good, first step is to not cheat on him with Spock," La'an said.

 

"Amen." Erica took a long pull from her beer. "That way lies madness. And lirpas."

 

Chapel laughed.

 

"Those are the dumbest weapons," La'an said going in for more of the prosciutto.

 

"Not if you get hit over the head with one."

 

"Blade side or whatever that other side is supposed to be?"

 

"Well, I lived to tell the tale, so I'd say it wasn't the blade side."

 

"Ladies, may I get you anything other than a refill?" Jim was rubbing his chin. "Also I really need a quick break from smiling. My jaw hurts."

 

"Serves you right for being popular." La'an gave him a bratty smile. "And strawberries, please."

 

"Try the Glenmorangie? A parting gift for me?"

 

"Fine. It won't be as good as the Balvenie but whatever."

 

When Chapel and Erica said they were fine, he left in search of booze and strawberries.

 

"Do those two have a thing that only they have?" Erica shook her head. "Because that sounded like English and yet I did not understand it."

 

Chapel laughed. "It's all about scotch."

 

"Oh. Blech." She made a face at Chapel's rye. "Your drink isn't any better."

 

Chapel suddenly wanted to be with him, helping him get stuff and just enjoying him on his last night here. "One of you let me out."

 

They both moved and she slid out of the booth and hurried to catch up with him. "I can help."

 

"I would welcome the help." He put his arm around her and pulled her in, laying his lips on her cheek. "I love you. I don't want to leave you."

 

"I don't want you to either. I'm...I'm going to consider how important the project is to me."

 

He shook his head. "You don't have to do that for me. I said you never would have to make that trade."

 

"I know. And it's a big reason I love you. But I'm still going to do it. Because I've never felt this way when a guy was walking away. I've never cared this way."

 

"I understand. I feel the same way."

 

"India Lima Yankee."

 

"India Lima Yankee Tango."

 

##

 

Kirk met Pike at the transporter room as the ship orbited Starbase 1. He was due to transfer to the Farragut in a few hours—a quick beam over and then the Enterprise and Chris would be gone. Why was his and Pike's presence suddenly urgently needed on Starbase 1? "Do we know what this is about, sir?"

 

"Nope."

 

Things were chilly between them. Had been since he put his name in for Em's first officer. But he'd do it again.

 

He followed Pike onto the transporter pad and heard Kyle say, "Enterprise to Starbase 1. Two to beam over."

 

"We've got them, Enterprise. Transporting now."

 

A lieutenant commander was waiting for them when they materialized. "This way, please, sirs." Her tone gave nothing away. She led them past the public areas and into the inner workings, then to what had to be what passed for a bridge on a Starbase.

 

Pike looked as confused as Kirk felt. Then he smiled as an admiral came into view. Kirk thought it was Robert April, the previous captain of the Enterprise.

 

"Bob."

 

"Chris." He smiled at Kirk. "Do you prefer James or Jim?"

 

"Jim, sir."

 

"Jim it is. Follow me, gentlemen." He led them to an office marked "Commander, Starbase 1" but there was no one sitting at the desk waiting for them.

 

April turned to the woman who'd led them, "Carter, you can show her in now."

 

"Yes, sir." She headed down the corridor.

 

"So what do you think, Chris?"

 

"What do I think of what?"

 

"Your new office. Which will come with a lovely new rank as well come next promotion cycle."

 

Kirk kept his face as emotionless as his stupid Vulcan teacher had once tried to teach him.

 

Pike didn't. "My new...what?"

 

"From the preeminent ship to the preeminent starbase. Congratulations." April was beaming but Kirk saw something else in it.

 

A gotcha.

 

"Sir, here she is," Carter said from the door.

 

Number One stood, in uniform, looking as confused as Pike. Then she saw him and could not hide the smile. "Sir."

 

"Commander." Wow—his look said it all. So it was love that drove him. Kirk thought maybe he understood his captain a little better. Now, when it was apparently too late. Although it became too late the moment he opted to get the hell off Pike's ship. "So Una's getting the ship?"

 

"No, she's your exec. You two are a winning team. Starfleet isn't going to break one of those up."

 

Pike's confusion was turning to something else. Anger.

 

"We made sure your quarters have a kitchen. Just like you like." April looked at Chin-Reilly. "Your preferences were a bit harder to parse. Your quarters—before they were cleared out after your arrest—seemed a bit spartan. But this place has everything—I'm sure you'll be able to decorate your apartment however you like."

 

"Sir, I'm not ready to leave the ship." Pike's voice was even—more even than Kirk thought his voice would have been under the same circumstances.

 

Didn't the man get it? Starfleet was cleaning house. Pike proved he'd do anything to save Una, and they couldn't make an example of him with so much scrutiny on her. But they also didn't have to let him keep the flagship or let Una be the first officer who'd embarrassed them.

 

Instead, they were giving him Leisure World.

 

It was kind of brilliant and really sadistic to do to a man who loved his ship as much as Pike did the Enterprise.

 

"You have a week to transition off. We'll see you back here then. Commander, you can keep things running here until he gets back, right?"

 

"Wait, she's not coming back to the ship?"

 

"I don't see the point. For a week? Unless this isn't a posting she wants." His look was making it very clear that Number One should take the posting, be acting commander until Pike reported, and shut the hell up.

 

Wisely, she did most of that. "No, sir. I'll keep the base running. But one question, sir. There are people on the Enterprise who would be assets here. Lieutenant Noonien-Singh, for example."

 

April smiled at her in an almost gentle way. "She's our best asset against the Gorn. Why would we put her here? She belongs on a ship." He turned to the door, beckoned Carter in. "Now that this is settled, Commander Carter will give you a tour."

 

She nodded and said, "This way, sirs," to Pike and Number One.

 

Kirk was unsure where to go, but as soon as the others were out of earshot, April said, "You stay back with me, Jim."

 

He met April's eyes, unsure why he was even here.

 

"How would you like to be the youngest captain ever? I've been impressed by you. So have a lot of your section heads."

 

"Youngest captain of what?"

 

"The Enterprise, Jim. I can tell you from experience, she's the best ship in the fleet."

 

"Is this a joke?"

 

"I would never joke about that ship. Yes, or no? Emery will understand. We'll give her Mitchell as her first officer. You three used to run as a pack as I remember it."

 

"Yes, we did, sir." He grinned. "I would, I would love that. But...I feel I need to tell you that I'm involved with a nurse on the ship."

 

"I married one from mine. What else do I need to know?"

 

"Nothing, sir." He was grinning. Probably like a crazy man.

 

"There are some who think Lieutenant Spock might make a good first officer. But it's your first command. Who do you want?"

 

"Noonien-Singh."

 

"I approve of that. Get that Gorn knowledge where it can do the most good. You actually like her, though?"

 

"I do. Can I ask one favor?"

 

"Of course."

 

"I think Lieutenant Spock would do well here. On Starbase 1. I think both Captain Pike and Commander Chin-Reilly would feel better about the posting if they had him to provide additional support."

 

April burst out laughing. "Done but wow, I have no idea what he did to you, but remind me never to piss you off, Jim."

 

"Don't think you could, sir. You're giving me my dream ship."

 

"Oh, you wait. I'm your boss now."

 

"Wouldn't have it any other way, sir."

 

"Why don't you get back up on that ship and go tell your girlfriend that you're not leaving after all."

 

"Sir, yes, sir." He was not going to tell her that her other favorite guy was leaving.

 

He turned to leave.

 

"Oh, and Jim. We know Noonien-Singh is very loyal to Chin-Reilly. Let us make it clear she won't be joining her once the reassignments are announced, and then you can offer her the first officer position."

 

"Sounds good, sir."

 

"Do you understand why all this is happening?" He was watching him with a truly curious look in his eye.

 

"I would say a good mantra would be 'Never embarrass the Fleet unless you also save something really, really big.'"

 

"And...?"

 

"Don't share Fleet info outside the Fleet?"

 

"I like you, Jim. This is going to be the start of a beautiful friendship."

 

 

 

 

EPILOGUE:

 

Pike sat under the picture of Kirk on the screen in his ready room, his older, surlier version standing in judgement over him.

 

He was still reeling from what he'd seen.

 

"On the plus side, you beat your fate. Also Spock doesn't die. You actually found a way to prevent that. But..."

 

One stupid choice. To satisfy his curiosity.

 

"Now you see why you have to leave James T. Kirk alone?" Admiral Pike came around the table and stared up at Kirk.

 

"I never want to see his face again. Computer, delete file. So Spock isn't there and no one fills the gap?

 

"It's not just that Spock isn't there. It's that Kirk shouldn't be captain this soon. He'll take a desk job eventually, much too soon for that too and have children with Chapel and La'an."

 

"Wait, what?"

 

"That's the part you're going to focus on? Do you know how many killer machines this man and Spock will beat?"

 

"I'm guessing a lot."

 

"That's right. But in this universe, Spock brings T'Pring to Starbase 1, they marry, have a baby they name after you—Schris by the way is a ridiculous name but very touching—and he resigns from the service and returns with her to Vulcan. Everything he and Kirk were destined to do together is lost."

 

"Okay but Kirk and Chapel and La'an?"

 

"Forget about them." With a longsuffering sigh, his alter ego grabbed his time crystal. "No more of this. Work with what you've got. And let whatever happens with Spock and Chapel happen. It's what's meant to be."

 

"So he breaks up with T'Pring?"

 

"I did not say that. Are we clear? No more of this."

 

"Aye, aye, sir." He said it as sarcastically as he could.

 

"Yeah, you say that now, but I know us. I will no doubt see you again. If you wear out my time crystal and get me stuck here, you're going to really regret it." And he was gone.

 

And his chime sounded.

 

"Come."

 

Spock. Looking concerned. "Captain, am I interrupting?

 

"No. I'm very glad to see you." He wanted to add, "Here, not stuck with me and Una on Starbase 1."

 

Shit, Una. Her arrest was imminent—he knew it was happening this time. "Spock, can you hide someone for me from Starfleet sensors?"

 

"Why would I wish to—"

 

Suddenly Spock was frozen and his other self was saying, "How many times do I have to say it? I swear to God, Chris, I'd mindwipe you if I didn't need you to remember."

 

"I have to let her get arrested?"

 

"What part of let things play out as they should is unclear to you? My God I'm annoying." And he was gone.

 

"—hide someone from Starfleet sensors for you?"

 

"That was a hypothetical question."

 

"Are you quite well, Captain."

 

"I am now." Now that he wasn't captain of fucking Leisure World. Jim Kirk could rot on the Farragut for all he cared.

 

"You left the briefing suddenly. It was uncharacteristic."

 

Pike had the feeling he was back on track, that this was what was supposed to happen. "Was it?"

 

"But now your demeanor appears changed. Having heard the boy's name, I cannot help but wonder if this pertains to your future."

 

He suddenly remembered the scenario before he fucked with Kirk's future. Remembered how it felt to look down on Spock's broken body. "Let's just say I think the universe is telling me that some fates are inescapable. And even if I could get out of mine, it might just fall to someone else."

 

"Someone you know?"

 

Pike gave him the most significant look he could without saying his name. "Yes."

 

"Is that why you are very glad to see me?"

 

He nodded.

 

"I believe I may owe you a debt of gratitude, Captain. Although for precisely what, I do not know."

 

"Spock, you are... You are very important to me."

 

"As you are to me, Captain. Chris."

 

Schris. Hmmm. Maybe it would have grown on him.

 

FIN

 

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