Disclaimer: All the characters belong to J.J. Abrams. I'm just playing with them. No money came from this.
Nurse Christine Chapel tailed after CMO McCoy, dodging people, equipment and pieces of debris alike in the chaos that was USS Enteprise's medbay in the wake of Narada's man sprinting ahead mindless of her "Doctor McCoy"s before halting at the foot one of the still functionally biobeds remaining, looked down at the prone thing and hissed his ranting.
"We're weeks away of the closest Federation outpost, out of supplies not to mention medical supplies and like that's not bad enough now he have this buggers on to watch for!"
Nurse Chapel rolled her eyes at the oncoming litany. Ever since the acting captain Kirk - gods she can't keep snorting at how that sounds - brilliant idea to beam up on Enterprise every pointy eared life form from Narada immediately after it's shields dropped, the CMO had constantly harassed him with excuses and requests to throw the Romulans out of the airlock.
Mr. unemotional Vulcan first officer's face was priceless when he heard Kirk's" Take them to the Sickbay" order.
" Captain, I must protest. Their actions did nothing to warrant them medical attention from our part. Quite the contrary." despite the venous tone translated "Just dump them from the airlock or at least use them as engine fuel if you were so wise to eject our warp core!"
But CMO McCoy really blew a fuse when he heard he was was having to move more than a finger for the health of a bunch of genocidal Romulans.
"The hell with it, Jim! Are you out of your mind? Why do you want me to save them? For the firing squad?"
At the beginning she understood and even shared a bit of McCoy's indignation at being forced to be aboard with the same creatures that blasted to bits a good half of Starfleet and a whole damned planet , but after seeing the poor things being dragged from the transported room the brig and then (sedated) from the brig to the medbay she couldn't help to feel pity. Two of them died shortly after being beamed aboard, and now all 23 living green blooded Hoggoblin genetical relatives were crammed in their medbay rooms shot full with sedative and strapped tightly on their biobeds while the remaining Red Shirts left on the ship guarded the doors.
The Romulan was unconscious on the biobed, presumably sedated. Unlike the others, this one was in the worst shape; it took dr. McCoy hours to operate the blaster wound in his lower abdomen. Rumors said he got that shot from Jim Kirk himself while he was strangling him above a pit.
"What a miss!" Christine thought.
Well, the Captain seems "fond" of this certain prisoner and even came to check on him after the surgery.
Nurse Chapel slowly, carefully approached the biobed to have a better look at her patient.
He might appear human weren't for the slightly green tinged complexion, probably the equivalent of Romulan pallor, which contrasted sharply with black inked tattoos. There was a large one that started at the top of his skull and ran down, past his forehead to the tip of his nose, looking vaguely like a butterfly to Christine, and another two narrow strips of ink across his cheeks and temples rising up to the sides of his skull. Following the intricate lines of ink she briefly wondered what they meant. Was it a Romulan custom or anything else?
And there were, of course, the customary pointed ears and upward slanted eyebrows, like she'd seen at the Vulcan survivors and which clearly marked his alien nature.
Childish curiosity aside, this was an unique opportunity to study Romulan and subsequently Vulcan biology, since their tricorders couldn't tell the races apart. And despite his unhappiness about his patients, Christine was sure dr. McCoy was ecstatic to learn more about Vulcan xenobiology, beside what the sparsely shared on the MedLogs.
"I patched up the most of it, but there're still a cubital fissure and some minor injuries in his left arm I want you to fix!" McCoy told her while sorting through a batch of hypos.
"We've got a load of injured on this ship and he's wasting my time on these scums!" he muttered more for himself, while gathering the equipment and went to treat another prisoner.
The nurse settled next to the biobed, picked an osteoregenerator and went to mend the fractured bones in his forearm until a beeping of the life monitoring apparatus startled her from her task. She looked up to see the spikes in the neural waves on the screen when his hand unexpectedly fisted. Instinctively, she jumped on her feet, dropping the regenerator.
By now the Romulan was wide awake, fixing her with a mean look.
She blinked under his dark scrutiny, her eyes darting from his to the instrument on the floor and then back to him. There was severity and annoyance in his glare and it made her feel like a child caught misbehaving.
Christine drew in a reassuring breath, eyes moving down to assess the strapping that held his limbs in place.
His black pupils followed hers and anger flashed across his tattooed face at the realization.
The Romulan bared his teeth at her, snarling something unintelligible in his native tongue, the words harsh and angry, while trashing and writhing against his restraints.
This rebellion lasted little, until he realized the bindings will not give in, then turned his tattooed head towards her hissing another guttural sounds. Threats, no doubt, judging from the venomous tone.
Christine sighed and bent down to retrieve the regenerator. Bound as he was, he couldn't do any more than noise.
Consciousness swept painfully over Ayel, sharp aches stabbing at his brain. His nerves felt like a net of fire and knives wrapped across his body, but the most jarring pain was in his left arm. So he clenched it tightly, trying to suppress it.
He opened his eyes slowly, blinking at the light above, brain simultaneously trying to work through pain and put together pieces of memories from his last hours, until the sight of a Lloann woman at his side, and then the unfamiliar surroundings made him forget them.
The hevam looked up from whatever piece of metal she was prodding with at his left hand, her blue eyes widening before she jumped to her feet, away from him.
Realization dawned upon him – captive, on a human vessel – rage rising with it and he yelled scream every curse his mind could gather at her, as if this light-haired human woman bore all the blame for their mishaps. His rage was spurred further when he noticed the predicament he was literary trapped in, and after a short fight against the human bindings, rewarded by an even more excruciating pain, Ayel laid still on the bed and turned his head to look her in the eye.
"When I get out of here, you will suffer. Greatly."
It was a promise he really wanted to keep.
Seeing that the Romulan calmed down, she tentatively approached him, movements unhurried so it won't provoke him.
"I am a doctor. I want to fix your hand. I mean no harm."
From their reports, the Romulans spoke Standard, but she didn't know how much of her words he understood, so she kept her hands raised, palms spread open in front of him , in the most common gesture of non-aggression, so he would know her intentions were true.
The Romulan's eyes widened for a second, then narrowed and glued on her hands.
She picked up again the instrument and pointed towards his clenched fist, her index close to his skin, but not quite touching.
"Uncurl your fingers, please!"
He stared intently at her for a moment, but did as requested, splaying his fingers wide.
Ayel's mind was focused on devising all kinds of cruel fates upon this hevam creature should the Four ever allowed him to get out this blasted restraints. That until she did something that blew his mind away from it's current fixation.
The wretch raised her hands, palms up, finger spread wide and wriggled them in front of him. His eyed widened and he didn't know whether to be angry or disgusted at this obscenity. What in the Four's name did she think she's doing? Only bonded mates displayed their hands like that one to each other, and only when….
And yet he couldn't take his eyes from the human's hands, they weren't that disgusting, the wrist was narrow and the fingers long and slender, their bending forward revealing red, shiny fingernails that flashed in the light with every movement.
The skin was white with a slight rosy tint – this was wrong, it should be green, but it was flawless and looked smooth.
Her left hand approached his, index finger outstretched and pointed at him. He blinked. Had this human woman no shame?
Then she explained in Standard and he understood and begrudgingly complied, spreading his fingers as wide as he could despite the aching pain in them. Let her feel the embarrassment like he did.
The nurse drew the regenerator across his arm, finished restructuring the bone, then placed it on the table and picked up a smaller on for his phalanges. The second she brought her hand down over his, the Romulan's arm shot up like snake, exploiting the little liberty of movement his straps allowed.
Fingers snapped closed over her right wrist, grip vice like and bruising. Gasping, she stared at her captive hand then at his face, his lips curled in a grin full of malice.
"Do not panic! Do not panic!" her mind repeated like a mantra, against the flood of fear. The strength of his race was well known and he could crush her hand at any moment.
"Do not scream!"
No point in calling in the guards. By the time they could do anything her right hand would be missing.
"Stay cool!"
His grin grew and the fingers tightened painfully, pressing skin and muscle against bone. She'll have fingertips printed bruises on her wrist by now.
"Do not scream!"
A doctor. He understood now, but it didn't make it any less disorienting. He laid still and let her treat him. Even if the concept of getting help from humans disgusted him deeply, but it was in his advantage. The better shape they could put him, the easier he would escape.
So he watched her running that outdated scrap of metal over his forearm, mending the bone inside, while waiting for a mistake, an opportunity. Hevam were not careful creatures.
The ache dulled as the bone was grown back in one piece and when she finished that, she bent down to fix his fingers, distraction from her task making her close the distance between his arm and hers more than it was safe. There. His chance.
Ayel's hand lunged forward, new pain surging from where the binds ground against his newly healed cubitus, but it worth the effort. He had her in his grasp now, or at least her wrist.
The woman gasped at his unexpected move and he could read plainly the fear in her eyes, then his mind was flooded with it from where his skin touched her cooler one.
The surge lasted a little, before her consciousness quenched it, but there was still dripping in, like water drops that seep through the dam that stops the flow. Rationality asserted itself and Ayel felt the human's mind shifting as she analyzed her situation, thinking of the ways he could hurt her and how she could escape his grasp and what would happen to her should she try.
He gave her a cruel smirk and hint of the outcomes in her thoughts by tightening his grip, adding only a little pressure, to feel the bone beneath strain and the quickening of her heartbeat in the blood flow under his fingers. Humans were so fragile.
She let out a whimper so small she didn't even heard it as no one of her race would have, her jaw tensed, slightly, and blue eyes blurred with tears at the corners, but that was all. Maybe this human was a little stronger than the rest. Ayel wanted to see how see how much.
"Release me!"
It came out as something between a request and a plea, the tremble in her voice caused by pain and by his disturbing glare making it sound more like the second.
She was sure he understood her perfectly and yet he did nothing but the widening of that infernal smirk.
"You. Me. First."
His words in Standard, clipped and unexpected startled her. She pondered at his words for a moment.
"I cannot do that!"
Ayel probed her thoughts slowly, so her conscience would not detect his. She was speaking the truth. She could not release him and even if she did, he would not go further of the armed guards posted at the door. Harming her was wouldn't do it either so he discarded that option. After all, she did no wrong to him and she was a doctor. It was dishonorable to harm somebody who has done him good.
The Romulan appeared now deep in thought, despite his eyes remained fixed on her. His grip loosened a bit, more blood flowing into her hand. Christine startled when she felt his thumb grazing in circles across her palm, pressing against the bones, but this time not enough to be painful. His skin felt rough, calloused and feverish hot under hers.
His hand moved on it's own accord, and his thoughts, swirling after years of seclusion followed, drawn by the touch of the other mind.
This was a perversity – Ayel thought – and he would get a full month of prison work were he on Romulus. He might also get a broken jaw were she a Romulan woman, but the hevam didn't even seem fazed by his….advances. So he took advantage of it. Her skin under his fingertips felt cool and soft and smooth. Pleasant to touch. He didn't noticed when the rest of his fingers slipped forward, drawing patterns across the back of her hand.
Ayel breathed deeply, feeling his own nerves lighting up, answering the touch. The hevam's arched brows were furrowed now, but it didn't matter anymore. His fingers slid over her knuckles and he focused on the sensations.
Christine watched wordlessly as the Romulan's fingers travelled over the back of her palm, massaging her knuckles. Her initial fear of injury was replaced by awkwardness, as hi touches became more bolder. A warmth glowed at her forehead, spreading over it, then it engulfed her like a shiver of electricity across her spine. It lasted only a second, sublimating itself and leaving her shuddering. Beneath her, the Romulan gasped and moaned.
Her mind felt ….right, Collected and whole, despite the little blurring of fear at it's corners. And cool. Everything about her felt appealing. The connexion lasted only a second, closing it as soon as it was opened, but their mind's touch eased him, smoothing down the tumult from his own.
This was not right. But it felt good. Ayel shook his head. Even if she was enemy, human, and he hated them just as much as he hated Vulcans, he shouldn't be doing this. It was wrong by the very moral code of his people. Even if she had no idea of the assault he was inflicting upon her. So he did the righteous, despite the protests of some other parts of his mind and body.
Of all the things Christine last expected to happen was him to abruptly release her hand. She drew it back the moment it was freed, and stepped away from him, rubbing her wrist as to dispel the pain and the hot feel of his skin.
The Romulan watched her again, this time less scrutinizing and somewhat amused by her reaction.
"Finish!"
This time she stopped just out of his reaching range, eyeing him for any sign of aggression. He just stared at her, mockingly almost then turned his head away. Christine brought the regenerator above his middle finger and turned it on.
Her task continued in uncomfortable silence, so she kept her eyes on the lines of ink across the back of his hand, while feeling his dark stare boring holes in her head.
"What's your name?"
There was gruffness in his voice but this time it lacked the edge of threat. Her head snapped up, and she found herself again under his scrutiny.
Revealing personal identity to a prisoner was not a wise action, but the answer blurted out involuntarily.
"Christine... Chapel."
He stared at her again, black eyes unreadable.
"Thank you!"
That she didn't expect either and her surprise grew when he lifted his left hand as much as the bindings allowed, beckoning her closer.
"Do you have any pain?"
He didn't answer, only wriggled his index at her, palm drawn out as for a handshake. She understood his request, but was not eager to comply, not after before.
" I won't harm you!" Her patient told her, reading her reluctance.
Finally, she approached and tentatively put her finger pad over the tattoo on the back of his hand, while watching for any signs he might try to grab her again. He did no such thing; instead the second her skin touched his he closed his eyes and spread his fingers wide.
This unexpected reaction was fascinating. Christine read that physical closeness was calming for some races, but never expected to find one example in this Romulan. Gently, she traced over his knuckles and across the length of his middle finger, and by now her patient appeared to be in pure bliss. The odd warmth on her forehead returned, inducing her an euphoric state.
"Chapel! What the hell you think you're doing?"
Her eyes snapped open and she snatched her hand back, startled. In the doorway was standing McCoy, staring at her incredulous.
" Gods, you didn't touched his hand, did you?"
The Romulan bared his teeth at the doctor, who ignored him and turned to her. Yet something in McCoy's tone told her she did something stupid.
"I…. Why ?"
He just laughed and rolled his eyes at the question.
"Becaaaaaaaauuuuuse….Romulans – pointing at the now pissed specimen strapped on the bed – are genetically the same race as Vulcans.
Her cheeks went beet red at the realization and she just wanted a black hole to open under her feet to swallow her up.
"And you know – he continued- Vulcans, hands, basic xenobiology stuff…."
Yes, everybody knew that. Rubbing hands was the equivalent of a blow job for Vulcans. The pervert! And the warmth - he was reading her mind. Gods, she never felt so embarrassed. McCoy's snicker didn't make her feel better either. She looked back at the Romulan and the twerp gave her such a lewdly look she wanted to smack him in the head. And she would have done it if that didn't mean to touch it.
Feeling she screwed up enough for the day, the nurse turned on her heels and strode past a still chuckling McCoy towards the exits when the thing had the audacity to call after her.
"Christine!"
She spun around to see him grinning lecherous as her while wriggled his fingers.
"You haven't finished the job!" There was definitely a lewd undertone in this.
"Well then, I'll leave it to the good doctor!" she replied patting McCoy on the shoulder and felt a ounce of satisfaction when the doctor snorted and the smugness over the Romulan's face was replaced with an irritated scowl.
" Ayel"
She turned to face him again, lips pursed and eyes narrowed, pondering at some biting line to throw back .He already seem to have the replica prepared, so she give up.
" Glad to meet you. Have a good time gentlemen!"
She thought she heard two snorts before the doors slid close behind her. Some days were just that horrible.