A note to the reader: this story is comparable to a nice ginger-squash soup. While the plot is not as thick as, say, week-old Musaman curry, the character study is rich, complex, and tasteful. Therefore, reader, expect neither light comedic entertainment nor syrupy fantasy (although a little comedy and a little angst is not totally lacking here). And if you want to get straight to the nitty gritty, for Surak's sake skip the Prelude.

She is Your Mirror

Prelude

For a sentient life form, there is never an end to learning. Confronted with the infinite, life will always seek to expand. The sapient being knows it can never understand everything it wishes to, yet it will continue to reach out into the unknown. This story is not, however, about reaching outwards into the distant places of the universe. Often, it is more difficult to understand the self than it is to examine separate phenomena, for the self cannot observe itself. Others are required to give that insight, even if their observations are difficult to hear. This is a story about such insights, and what it took for one sapient being to see itself.

Chapter One: Christine Chapel

Can it be right to give what I can give?

To let thee sit beneath the fall of tears

As salt as mine, and hear the sighing years

Re-sighing on my lips renunciative

Through those infrequent smiles which fail to

live

For all thy adjurations? O my fears,

That this can scarce be right! We are not

peers,

So to be lovers; and I own, and grieve,

That givers of such gifts as mine are, must

Be counted with the ungenerous. Out, alas!

I will not soil thy purple with my dust,

Nor breath my poison on thy Venice-glass,

Nor give thee any love-- which were unjust.

Beloved, I only love thee! let it pass.

Elizabeth Browning,9th in Sonnets from the Portuguese

"Nurse... Nurse!"

From across the room Christine padded swiftly to the biobed, medical scanner in hand. "Do you need something?" Her voice was calm and reassuring. The young man on the biobed visibly relaxed.

"I... I thought I felt my heart murmur," he explained, eyeing the scanner as Christine waved it above his chest. "I thought maybe I was going to relapse."

The scanner meeped quietly in the nurse's ear, but Christine gave no sign she could hear it. She smiled maternally. "Your heart is healing exactly as it ought to," she said. "All you need is a good rest, and you'll be out of here before tomorrow morning."

The patient smiled nervously. "I guess Bones knew what he was doing." He closed his eyes and took a deep, if cautious breath.

Christine stole a glance at her tricorder. The patient's agitation was driving his heart rate too high. It wasn't immediately dangerous, she knew, but it would slow his recovery. She composed her face into a soft smile, and laid a gentle hand on his arm. "I've never seen him lose a heart patient," she said soothingly. Her voice purred with years of training. "Why, McCoy's accomplished trickier things before. His last open-heart surgery was performed under fire. To make things worse, all during the operation the blood donor kept trying to get up to report for duty--" She gave a wry smile.

"That was Sarek he saved, wasn't it? During all the fuss about Coridan?"

"That's right. And if he could pull that off, you've certainly got nothing to worry about."

The patient sighed, and glanced up at the nurse's serenely confident face. The light shone softly behind her, giving her blonde hair a halo-like sheen. It was an effect she had used many times. As the patient looked at her, the quiet warning from the scanner slowed; finally, it died away altogether.

Christine patted his hand. "You just rest there," she said, smiling. "If you need anything at all, I'll be right next door in the lab."

"Thanks, Nurse. I think I'll be fine now." He shut his eyes. For a few seconds Christine waited by his side; then, setting down the tricorder, she left the room.

* * *

The lab was quiet and empty. Christine sat at one of the benches and stared at the computer consoles and equipment scattered about the room. A lifetime ago, she had used equipment like this in her own research. Or had it only been a few years? It hardly made a difference; so much had changed. It was almost difficult now to remember why she often felt like a cheap imitation of the way she was before Starfleet.

She had been prepared to lose herself in bio-research. It would have been so easy. In bio-research, there was no one who needed to be taken care of, and no smiles to practice. No calm, soothing voice to carefully cultivate. No appearances to maintain. Only data, and the knowledge that came from its analysis. But then, there had been Roger...

"Christine... are you in here?"

Her eyes popped open. "Uhura?" She looked up. Peering tentatively around the doorway was her friend. She sat up straight, and waved. "Come and sit," she said, a little too cheerfully.

The communications officer smiled knowingly. "You were daydreaming again. I can tell by the way you smile so stiffly. No, don't give me that--" Christine had begun to protest, but Uhura waved a hand to silence her. "I know that expression, and I know you," she said, sitting down. "You're thinking about leaving Starfleet again."

Christine gave a light laugh. "I should never have told you about what happened on Exo III. I'm never going to hear the end of it, am I?"

Uhura folded her hands and peered at her friend. "If you want to hear the end of it, Chris, you've got to get to the end of it first."

"Is that one of Doctor M'Benga's, or did you come up with it all by yourself?"

Uhura laughed. "Nope, all me," she said. "Listen..." Her voice took on a more serious tone. "I don't mean to spring this on you, but this has been on my mind for a while. Will you hear me out?"

Christine's smooth brow furrowed, but she nodded.

"Right." She breathed deeply. "We've been friends for a while. But we haven't always been as close as we are now. I notice things now that no one else does--like the way you always move as quietly as possible when you're under stress. Or like the distance you keep from all the other girls, even if you aren't on duty. I didn't see that before I really knew you; now it's hard to ignore." She saw Christine's face was placid, but very still; she decided to get to the point. "After Exo III, you were given the chance to go back to the career you left behind. You chose to stay. Now, it's not that I want you to leave--you're my friend, after all--but ever since you told me how you'd found Roger..." She trailed off, watching Christine's face harden ever so slightly. "I don't want to say I've figured you out, but...I've begun to think that you regret staying."

There was a pregnant pause. Christine seemed to be debating whether or not to reply; Uhura knew enough to wait. "I will fulfill my tour of duty," she said finally. "I'm quite sure of that."

"But are you happy with that decision? You could still have a very successful career in research. I know you could." Uhura was almost pleading.

Christine shook her head. "I knew that I wouldn't leave the Enterprise the moment I found out what had happened to my fiancée."

"Why? You don't need Dr. Korby, or any man to have a career--you're smart enough by yourself!"

"It isn't that." Christine looked down at her neatly folded hands. "It isn't that at all."

Uhura watched her downcast, stock-still eyes carefully. She knew the nurse was deciding how much she wanted to reveal. Uhura wished Christine had more trust in her—but she also knew that this was the most Nurse Chapel opened up for anyone.

"I had a nice, neat plan," Christine continued. "Then Roger was gone. I can't go back to that life now. I'd been looking for him for so long..." She trailed off, as if she'd forgotten her train of thought. When she resumed, it was clear she was picking her words carefully. "I realize now I wasn't really looking for Roger at all. I was looking for some kind of direction and meaning to my life." She blinked, as if surprised at her own words. "I suppose I'm still looking."

"Looking for direction...!" Uhura exclaimed in amazement. "Frankly, Chris, I don't buy that. You are one of the most disciplined lieutenants on this ship; you're nothing but direction. If you ask me, deep space is where direction loses meaning, not where it's found."

"It's as good a place to look as any," Christine replied evasively.

"Huh." Uhura was obviously unconvinced. "You never told me what attracted you to Dr. Korby in the first place. From what I hear, he didn't have much time for romance."

"Well," Christine laughed softly. "I wasn't exactly looking for romance. What I wanted was stability, and the opportunity to expand my knowledge. Roger offered me both."

"Sounds like a bummer of a relationship to me," Uhura said, grinning.

Christine shrugged. "His ideas fascinated me. He thought that a world without emotion would be a utopia—no wonder he became so enthralled by the android civilization of Exo III. He was a very brilliant man, you know. His philosophies about emotion captured my imagination." Her mouth twisted into a wry smile. "I was rather naive, then."

Uhura stared at her in incredulous wonder. "I think," she said slowly, "I'm beginning to see a pattern in all this."

Christine looked sharply at the communications officer. "That was a completely different life," she said forcefully. "I was still a young student--I had no idea how complex the world really was. I can see now how simplistic Roger's ideas really were."

Uhura had to smile. "The funny thing about you, Christine," she said, "Is that you're always putting on a mask, trying to fool yourself. Sometimes I wonder if you can even recognize yourself anymore."

Christine turned her face away angrily. "If anyone else said that to me--" She broke off, biting her lip in consternation.

From across the table Uhura sat frozen, watching her worriedly. It wasn't often that the nurse allowed herself to show anger.

"But then," Christine continued, "maybe you're the only one who could see through all my masks." She stared into the floor. "Maybe you're right--I don't recognize myself anymore. I invested so much into my plan to marry Roger, settle down, and do my research--when it all fell apart, I sort of...lost myself."

"And you stayed on board to find yourself again."

Christine buried her face in her hands.

"Oh, honey--" Uhura rushed to kneel beside her friend. "It's all right. It's okay to cry."

A great shudder ran through her body. Her shoulders drooped forward, and she turned her face away. "I don't know what's come over me. I don't have any reason to cry, I shouldn't--"

"No, Christine--don't do that. I know exactly what's come over you. You've been hiding your feelings for too long and buried them too deep, and now they're coming back for you."

Christine made a small hiccuping noise, like she had swallowed a sob.

Uhura squeezed her arm. "You might hide your feelings from everyone else, but for goodness' sakes, don't hide them from yourself."

Christine shook her head. "I don't even know myself, Uhura," she said brokenly, "I've been..." She gestured towards her friend. "...wearing a mask, all this time, even since childhood--I've only just become aware of it. How can I stop now? I'm afraid to let go. Who knows what I might become?"

"Well, I know what you'll become if you don't--a nervous wreck. You keep saying you want to find yourself, but you never will unless you acknowledge your own feelings. Christine--" Uhura shook her head emphatically. "Just because you let yourself cry doesn't mean you're changing who you are. You're just releasing what you've pent up inside. It never helps to deny what you feel--just let those feelings leave you."

Christine looked stricken. "Let the feelings leave you..."

At that moment Doctor McCoy rushed into the lab. "Where's M'Benga? Chapel--oh--" He stopped short upon seeing the two women at the lab bench.

Christine stood up, her face as calm and collected as ever. "Everything's all right, Doctor," she said, as Uhura slowly rose beside her.

McCoy peered at them for a moment; then he shrugged. "I've got to find Dr. M'Benga. Do any of you know where he is? I need an expert on Vulcans."

Christine's eyes widened.

"It's not Spock, Chapel, for heaven's sakes."

"Then who...?" She involuntarily looked away, embarrassed.

"The Federation has reason to believe that there is a Vulcan woman being detained illegally on Coridan."

"What--the Coridans, taking a Vulcan hostage?" Uhura said, confused. "But that's unthinkable--the Vulcans are responsible for their acceptance into the Federation, they protected Coridan's dilithium mines from the Orions--I remember when Sarek cast the vote that won them Federation membership. Why would they...?"

"I don't know, Uhura. They wouldn't tell us. All I know is that the admiral wants us to go down there, find her, and bring her home."

"There used to be Coridian rebels hostile to the Vulcans... could they still be active?"

"I don't know, Uhura. Just get me M'Benga, will you?"

"Sure, Doctor." She squeezed Christine's hand and rushed into the hall to find an intercom.

Christine breathed slowly. Suddenly a thought struck her; she looked up at the doctor. "McCoy," she said, frowning, "if the hostage needs medical treatment, why can't you treat her?"

"I might not be qualified. We know nothing about her situation. All we know is that, if the intelligence is right, she's been on Coridan since the age of four. That was eighteen years ago, in Vulcan reckoning—she'll be twenty-two by now."

"That long! But why...?"

McCoy shook his head. "Your guess is as good as mine. There's no telling what's been done to her all this time. She could be a complete wreck, for all we know. I've got no experience with this sort of thing. I'm a doctor, not a psychiatrist--well, not for Vulcans, anyway. Spock isn't exactly the best reference."

Christine smirked.

"With any luck, M'Benga will know what to do."

"You're not going down yourself?"

"Well, we'll see what he knows."

A few moments later M'Benga strode into the lab, Uhura and the captain following closely behind.

"I've briefed Dr. M'Benga on the situation," said Kirk. "Now all we need is a course of action."

"Well, hold on, Jim--isn't Spock going with?"

"Yes, he's coming--" From behind the lab bench, Christine could see that the captain was a bit miffed. She knew he didn't like running errands when he could be exploring uncharted territory. "-- but his scanners can't find a Vulcan anywhere on the planet--excepting those we already know are there. Either she's already dead, or they've got some way to block the scan." He sighed, irritated. "He's trying to find another way to figure out where this person is."

"Are they sure there's a Vulcan down there?"

"Starfleet Intelligence is sure; and that's good enough for the admiral."

"And so they're making us do their dirty work," huffed McCoy, crossing his arms.

"I hardly think it can be called 'dirty work'," remarked Christine, stepping out from behind the bench. "If there is a woman who needs help, and we can provide that help, we should be glad to give it." There was an awkward silence. From behind the captain Uhura caught her eye, and gave her a small nod and a wink.

Kirk frowned at the nurse's piercing stare. "Spoken like a true nurse, Chapel--" he said after a pause. "You're right. We shouldn't waste any more time." He turned to Dr. M'Benga. "What can we expect when we find her?"

M'Benga heaved a sigh. "Well..." He paused, as if trying to decide where to begin.

"That bad, huh?" McCoy quipped wryly.

M'Benga smiled wanly. "Not necessarily. Really, it's hard to predict what state she'll be in. It depends on what she's been through. Starfleet is fairly sure, though, that she was taken from her family by force. And if that is the case, we can expect her not to remember Vulcan at all."

"Not remember Vulcan?" echoed Uhura. "But four years is a lot to forget—people can't just erase four years of their lives because those memories have become painful."

"Vulcans can, and do," interjected Spock, "as Dr. M'Benga knows." Everyone turned towards him as he stepped into the room.

"Good grief," said Bones peevishly. "How many more people are we going to pack in here? This is a laboratory, not a conference room."

Kirk held up a hand to silence him. "Did you find her, Spock?"

"No, Captain."

Kirk sighed.

"However, I did narrow down considerably the possibilities for her location. There is a small area on the planet that is shielded from our sensor scans. The sensor could not find any unexplained Vulcan life signs outside of this area. Therefore, I suggest we begin our search there."

"And where is that?"

"The place is within the town of Luknao, which has traditionally served as a trading center with the Orions. According to Coridan census data, it is the home of some of the wealthiest Coridians."

"Is it a neighborhood? A market? Rebel stronghold? What?" Kirk gestured impatiently.

"A combination." Spock's eyebrow rose. "The area I could not scan is also home to Coridan's wealthiest brothel."

* * *

Spock's words weighed heavily on everyone in the room.

Christine felt slightly nauseated. "Then, Spock," she said softly, "it follows that the missing Vulcan must be there, in captivity."

"That is so, Nurse Chapel," he answered. "The next question, of course, is who holds her captive?"

"This has got to bad for diplomacy," murmured McCoy.

"I have no doubt the Vulcan High Command would agree, Doctor," said Spock, nodding curtly in assent.

"Well, undoubtedly the Coridian government will have some explaining to do. But, gentlemen, let's concentrate on things we can do something about. M'Benga--"

"Yes, Captain."

"What advice can you give us?"

Christine's heart fell when she saw the frown on the Vulcan specialist's face. "If she hasn't had any contact with other Vulcans for eighteen years, she probably hasn't been trained to control the reordering of their own neural pathways." He sighed. "If that's the case, she'll have buried, rather than erased, all memories of her life before being captured. Worse, she'll be unprepared for the consequences of bringing those memories to the surface. Repressed memories can have devastating effects for Vulcans." He looked darkly at Dr. McCoy. "It could be bad."

"Well, what do we do about it?"

M'Benga shrugged. "Not much you can do--she has to confront her memories sometime. The best thing would be to bring her safely aboard as soon as possible."

"Don't you think you should be down there?"

The doctor shook his head. "You won't need me. Just try not to bring her aboard in an unconscious state—for an untrained Vulcan, it would be best to avoid that much of a change. Otherwise," he shrugged, "there's nothing I can do that you couldn't."

"Well, I guess that means I'm coming down with you," said McCoy, shooing Spock out into the hallway. "Come on, Jim—let's get this over with."

Dr. M'Benga and Uhura left together, animatedly discussing what the landing party might find in Luknao. Christine rose to follow them, but McCoy turned back to stop her.

"I need you to hold down the fort, Chapel," he said, running a hand nervously through his hair. "Prepare a biobed with restraints and whatever else you think might be useful. We could return with anything." He left.

The lab was silent once more. Christine began to walk briskly towards sickbay to ready a bed.

Eighteen years. It was a long time for anyone to be held captive. She reached for the alcove that held the restraints, pensive. It was anyone's guess what the landing party would find, but the possibilities were frightening. If the Orion Syndicate had gotten hold of her...she knit her brow. Christine knew it would hard for Spock to see one of his own kind a prisoner, possibly even tortured into madness. Of course, he would never show it directly. But the signs would be there; Spock's normal aloof demeanor would amplify to nearly dramatic levels, and he would suddenly move with unnaturally careful quietness. Minor details previously ignored would become of great interest. All this was intended to hide the fact that he was in pain, both from himself and everyone else. On the whole, it usually succeeded. She recognized these things, because these were things she did herself.

All at once she understood; Uhura was right, and had been right all along. All three of them—the Vulcan on Coridan, Spock, and herself—were in danger of hurting themselves by suppressing their own pain. If Doctor M'Benga was right, and the Vulcan captive had buried her memories of Vulcan, they would be like live coals covered in cool ash. When they were exposed, she would inevitably get burnt. As much as she found it difficult to admit, this was exactly what she and Spock did with inconvenient feelings: they buried them. Only, the two of them endured the constant fear of exposure.

It was true that in lab they were an extremely efficient, if silent, team. This was because had the same workplace expectations—and the same stubborn refusal to let their guard down for a moment. Spock had his Vulcan heritage to shield him, and she had her duty as a nurse. And both had allowed their masks to eclipse their true selves.

That was the way it was; there was nothing she could do about it. But the incoming patient…

Smoothing down the sheets of the biobed thoughtfully, Christine imagined the scenario that awaited the landing party. When they found her, she knew, before anything else was said the captain would try to explain who they were and why they had come. If the girl didn't go into shock then, she would when Spock revealed himself. And, because Spock wouldn't stand by as her mind tore itself to pieces, he would attempt a mind meld. In sharing his thoughts, the captive would learn to deal with the sudden trauma the way he would: bury it. Having never received the normal Vulcan training, the girl would be a time bomb.

She couldn't let that happen.

Christine breathed evenly. Suddenly, she knew what she had to do. Her duty

was clear; she was calm.

"Let the feelings leave you..."