Love and Regret
Lieutenant Joe Tormolen was dead and no one could explain why.
After the landing party returned from the planet Psi 2000, they underwent decontamination even though they wore environmental protection gear while planet side.
But Tormolen died, apparently from a virus he picked up on the planet.
Spock broke the news to his shocked science crew. Joe had been a respected officer, a quiet, studious man who spent his off-hours creating elaborate drawings of cell structures that decorated his quarters and many of the other crewmembers'.
After leaving his grieving science staff, Spock tried to compose a letter to Joe's parents. Writing to a crewmember's survivors and trying to convey how he grieved with them was never easy. He was never satisfied that he'd even come close to accomplishing the task. "Joe died in the line of duty," Spock tapped out, "doing what he did best—investigating scientific mysteries and helping come up with answers. He was an outstanding officer and a good man."
Still, it sounded so artificial, even when he added "I grieve with thee" in the Vulcan tradition. Yes, he was grieving but he couldn't really empathize. He hadn't lost a child like Joe's parents had.
He had tried to convey sympathy to Lt. Chapel after the death of her fiancé, the brilliant archeologist Roger Korby, was confirmed. But the events that led to the conclusion that Korby had been dead all along were so shocking he wasn't sure if anyone could really grasp what Chapel had been through.
He reviewed landing party tape and was shocked to see that Joe had actually removed a glove to scratch an itch. The question why Joe had done that bothered him and the few others with whom he shared this information. "Human error," Christine had suggested. "Carelessness," was Kirk's opinion. "Maybe he was distracted by something and just wasn't thinking," Nyota mused. But Joe knew better than anyone about containing contamination at the source. And whatever it was that killed him could survive the Enterprise's own decontamination process.
Whatever it was, it must be stronger than the average alien virus.
Sulu and O'Reilly from Engineering seemed to both be experiencing a kind of psychotic break. A few crewmembers reported that Joe had yelled at the pair in the break room shortly before he fell ill. Now Sulu was strapped down in Sick Bay, after running around the ship bare-chested with his épeé of all things. He'd grabbed Uhura on the bridge, too, but the Communications Officer was more than capable of shoving him away. It was only Spock's nerve pinch that finally put him out so that Security could carry him off to Sick Bay.
Spock was on his way there to coordinate samples from Sulu's and Joe's blood with the med lab when he witnessed a crewmember harassing Yeoman Rand. "Stand aside crewman!" he'd yelled and the man complied, apparently for just a moment because Rand later reported that she had to escape him by hiding out in the Captain's office.
He entered Sick Bay to find Sulu still knocked out, courtesy Lt. Chapel's adroitness with a hypo. "I've given him two doses," she told Spock. "I don't dare to do any more so I've put him in restraints." Spock gazed at the sweaty, unconscious man. "This affliction," he said out loud, "seems to awaken aggressive tendencies. You've heard that Tormolen fought with Sulu and O'Reilly earlier?"
Christine nodded. "Yes, I have. Strange. Joe was so quiet, hardly the fighting type."
"Then Sulu has an …episode," Spock said.
"An episode with an épeé!" O'Reilly blurted out from a nearby bed.
Spock glanced at him and walked over to his bed. "How are you feeling, Mr. O'Reilly?" he asked.
"Just dandy, Mr. Spock. Just dandy."
"You are aware that Joe has died?"
"Yessir, I am. Joe's dead all right."
"You two were friends. Does that not upset you?"
"I am as upset as you are, Mr. Spock."
Spock started to turn away. O'Reilly grabbed his hand, pulling him back to the bedside.
"Are you upset, Mr. Spock?" he asked. "Can you be upset? Joe worked his ass off for you, do you know that?"
"I do, Mr. O'Reilly, I do." Spock pulled his hand away and walked out to the waiting room. He needed to think.
He felt a strange tingling in his hand and held it up. He was still staring at it when he became aware of Lt. Chapel standing in the doorway. "Mr. Spock?" she asked. "What's wrong?"
"My hand…" he said. He turned to face her. "And my heart."
"What…what's wrong with your heart?" she asked. "Are you having chest pains, numbness? Sit down, now." She gently led him to a chair pushed him down. Then she sat down next to him, pulling out her medical scanner and began to scan him. "How many fingers am I holding up?" she asked, spreading out three.
"Stop," Spock said. He took her hand in his, intertwining his fingers with hers. "You have no idea, do you Christine?" he asked.
She almost dropped the scanner. "No idea of…what, sir?" she managed to get out.
"Spock. My name is Spock, Christine."
"No idea of what, Spock? I really need to check you over." She found she couldn't remove her hand from his. Did she want to? She didn't move but stared into his eyes.
"My feelings. I do have them. Vulcans feel, Christine, far more than Humans can imagine. We have to keep our feelings and emotions controlled or we become…unpredictable. Even violent."
"Are you feeling violent, Spock?" she asked, remembering his comment about how the other men became aggressive.
"No, I am not. I control my emotions but I do have them. I would burn for you, Christine. I want to burn for you when it's my time. Only for you."
With that, he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it.
Christine was speechless. And thrilled.
"I cannot have you. I want you but I cannot have you. Only if she releases me can I have you, and only if you would have me." Still holding her hand, he put his other hand, the one that was now tingling madly, to her face. He drew it close to his, and kissed her eyes, forehead, and finally her lips.
"Would you have me Christine?"
"I—uh—ummm…" She felt his arms wrap around her and pull her toward him. His lips touched her neck as his hand undid the clip that kept her hair in a French twist. "Spock, I—" and she was interrupted by another kiss.
"What the devil is going on here!"
Dr. McCoy had entered his sick bay to find his head nurse locked in an embrace with Spock, who seemed to be on the verge of seducing her right there in the waiting area.
"Christine! Spock! Get a hold of yourselves!" he almost shouted at them.
Spock released Christine and she quickly pulled away. They both looked shocked and dazed. McCoy watched as Spock rose and started to walk to the door. "Where the hell do you think you're going?" he snapped at the First Officer, who stopped and turned to face him.
"I do not know." And he left.
McCoy shook his head and turned to Christine. "Are you all right? What got into you two? Right out here where anyone can see?"
Christine looked up at him and began to cry. Huge, heaving sobs, for Joe, for Sulu who she had to strap down, that poor sweet man, for all the deaths she'd attended since her nursing training began all those years ago when she was young, before she'd even met Roger.
McCoy stood there, amazed. "Did he hurt you, Chris?" he asked gently.
"No," she sobbed. "It's all those people who died working in space. Why are we even here? It's dangerous. How many times can the Captain, can Spock, cheat death? And those poor wretches in Security like Mathews. How is it fair that they died like Joe? And Roger—was he all alone when he died?" She was really heaving now.
McCoy passed a box of tissues to her. "Go to your quarters, Lieutenant. Do not leave it and do not come into contact with anyone here. I'm putting you, Spock, Sulu, O'Reilly—the whole lot of you acting strange—in quarantine under medical order."
A week later, Spock entered Sick Bay.
"What can I do for you Mr. Spock?" Christine asked politely. She wasn't sure how to react after that very awkward situation.
Spock walked over to where she was sitting and stood before her, hands clasped behind his back. "I came to ask if we could meet for coffee and…talk about what happened last week."
"Um…"
"Christine," Spock said, "We have to talk. I know, it was a virus but it brought things to the surface that I would have preferred to keep to myself. I know you must be confused. It is only logical that I explain—"
"You don't have to explain anything, Mr. Spock."
"I wish it. I am requesting that you meet me at 1500 or do I have to make this an official debriefing to put on the record?"
"OK, see you in the Officer's Lounge at 1500."
Spock was seated at the far end of the lounge where it was more private, waiting for her even though she was a little early. For a First Officer with a million responsibilities, he certainly was a master of time management. Christine wondered how many minutes he allotted for "coffee."
She could use a beer herself.
He was drinking tea and eating cucumber and carrot sandwiches. He stood as she approached and pulled out a chair for her.
"Please don't tell me this is a date," Christine tried to joke. "I'm officially still in mourning."
"Then it is not," Spock answered. "Just two officers sorting things out. What will you have to drink, and would you like some sandwiches? I can order more."
"Wait, this isn't coffee, it's high tea!"
"Perhaps. I felt that I needed what I have heard Lt. Uhura call 'comfort food.' "
Christine couldn't help smiling. She was actually feeling much more at ease. Who knew a Vulcan could use humour so well? Starfleet should really think about raiding the planet for Vulcans to put in management positions.
"If you don't mind, I'm off duty for the next 36 so I'll have a Mars Light."
Spock walked to the bar, ordered her beer, and brought it back to the table along with some crisps. "I took the liberty," he explained. "I also did not want to eat alone."
Christine thanked him and took a deep sip. "So. We need to talk, to 'sort things out.' "
"Yes. What happened in Sick Bay was…unusual for both of us. I for one, do not normally grab at female officers. First, I wish to apologize if I hurt you."
"I wasn't hurt. Startled, yes, but hurt, no."
"And what I said to you."
"Ah. Yes, it was confusing, sort of."
"I am sure it was. Christine, I enjoy your company, very much. More than I should. And I say that because as much as I wish we could explore our relationship, I must hold back."
"Because of Roger?"
"That is your decision and I would respect it. But no, I speak of my own situation. I am…intended for another, on Vulcan."
"Oh."
"Please understand that what I speak of must remain confidential. My people do not normally speak of this." He took a sip of tea. It was cold. The sandwiches lay untouched. "I was bonded as a child to her. It used to be a common practice on Vulcan to do this, to bond children as future mates."
"Why?"
"Because it is dangerous for adult Vulcan males to be without a mate. There is a time when males from my planet go through a kind of…highly emotional state in which they must be attended to by their mates. If they are left alone, they will likely die."
"Is this the burning you talked about?"
"Yes. When the time comes, it feels like a deep burning from inside."
"And that can only be relieved by…making love. Mating, as you put it."
"Yes."
"So, you are basically in an arranged engagement."
"More than engaged, but less than married."
"And you're saying you have no choice in the matter."
"That is accurate. But I wish it were not so." He looked down for a moment, than back up and into her eyes. "I often think about what it would be like to be bonded with you."
"Spock…are you saying you love me?"
"I am not sure. I know that I wish I were free to explore that. I would not tell you this except I…already did last week."
"I honestly don't believe I'm ready to be in any kind of romantic relationship, but it doesn't mean I don't think about it."
"Do you think of me in this way?"
"Since last week, yes."
"Not before then?"
"Not really. I was working on getting back to normal, feeling like myself again. But I always liked you. You're kind, you're really smart," she laughed, "and I'm sure you know you're pretty easy on the eyes."
"I thank you. You are also easy on the eyes." He let his lips curve up and his eyes crinkle a bit.
"And you are also…stuck in a loveless engagement?"
He bowed his head for a few moments. "I had not thought of it in this way but yes, I supposed I am. If the bond with my ko-kugalsu was strong, I would not even think in this manner but she has made it clear she does not care for me." He looked at her. "Normally, Vulcans form a close attachment with their mates over the years. By the time we…mate…make love, they do indeed feel love. But I do not think this will happen for me."
"Your parents…they obviously weren't bonded as children."
"Correct, yet theirs is a most satisfying marriage. I am certain that I can love one to whom I bond by choice. Indeed, many teenage and adult Vulcans today select mates with whom they are compatible."
"You can't break up with her?"
"I do not believe so. She can divorce me but she won't."
"You said she doesn't care for you."
"She does not, but she does care to be associated with my family."
A gold-digger. Spock had been bonded with an old-fashioned gold-digger. McCoy had told her about his home on Vulcan, that Spock's family were treated like Vulcan royalty and Spock was even referred to as a prince in some regions. It made sense. His father was a senior diplomat within the Federation and the acknowledged leader of Vulcan. She didn't know much about his mother, except that she was Human and some kind of linguistics genius.
Which explained a lot if Vulcans were as disdainful of non-Vulcans as she had heard. With his mixed heritage, Spock probably would have been bonded with any girl from any acceptable family. Poor guy. He deserved better.
She reached out and closed both her hands over one of his. "I'm sorry, Spock. I am so, so sorry." She released his hand, rose from her chair, and left the room.