Part 2
Chapel surveyed the room full of Marines, Security, and Emergency Ops personnel,. Her class for the average Joe had turned into a serious seminar for people who often found themselves in the deepest shit, and she loved how many bizarre, but real-life, scenarios they presented her with.
In the back of the room, two doctors were learning the ropes. Not the medical part—any decent doctor with a specialty in emergency and trauma could teach this. It was how to deal with officers who were...well, high energy might be a kind way to put it. Wild. Out there. Gung ho.
Crazy. Most of them were some bit of crazy. But Chapel loved them and she suspected she had some crazy in her she'd never realized. It was probably why she'd stayed on the Enterprise as long as she had rather than going back to academia.
There was someone else in the back. Admiral Cartwright had a huge grin on his face as she taught what was her penultimate seminar. It had been his idea to tailor the generic class to one that would suit his people and other first responders, his doing she suspected that she'd gotten her lieutenant commander bars faster than she ever expected, and now he was pulling her into Ops itself.
She was terrified. And excited.
This was what she wanted. To matter. To make a difference. To live an exciting life. To have some fucking fun before she was too old to really enjoy it.
And not because some man wanted to sleep with her. Cartwright had never hit on her—had never even looked at her in a way that made her think he was interested in that. He was her champion because he liked her brain, not her boobs or legs or ass.
It was amazing. It was like working with Roger had been when they were just focusing on the science. Pure collaboration as they built this course together into something so far from a "Get this woman off my ship" excuse it was practically unrecognizable.
That it would take two officers to replace her made her warm inside. Excelling was good for the soul.
One of the doctors traded places with her, teaching this segment for the first time and seeming to get energy from the give and take with the students. Chapel didn't think the other doctor would find it as energizing. She tended to be more "by the book," and in the back of beyond, the book was often nowhere to be found.
Sort of like her best friends. She and Ny had lunch occasionally, and the hugs they opened and closed the occasion with never felt fake, but there was a Vulcan between them and Chapel thought they both knew it. It was just easier to keep some distance and preserve what they had to what extent they could.
The longer she taught this course, the more Chapel thought distance with Ny was the way to go. It was pragmatic. And left Ny's relationship with Spock not something she could resent overmuch.
But Jan... Sometimes Ny pulled all three of them together for a girls' night out, but if she left the table, an uncomfortable silence would fall almost immediately. They'd never found their way back to anything resembling normal, and Chapel wasn't sure why. If Jan still thought she'd slept with Kirk, then there was nothing she could do to convince her otherwise. But it hurt. That she wouldn't talk to her about it. Chapel had tried, at first, but she'd been too unhappy in general when she'd first gotten back to Earth to spend that much energy on Jan.
On anyone, really.
She'd avoided Sarek and Amanda as much as she could, too. Amanda was easier since she was rarely on the compound, but Sarek did cross her path from time to time.
They were more than cordial. Chapel always felt a flutter of warmth when she saw him, and she missed the closeness they'd forged on the Danube, but she had a feeling it had been situational and letting it go gracefully was her best bet.
It was the grown-up thing to do, and she was trying to be one of those. She'd let Roger run her life instead of making choices for herself, and then once he was gone, she'd derailed her entire life to find him.
How different would her life have been if she'd just let him stay lost? What might she be accomplishing? He'd left her behind when she could easily have been included on his mission, and if she'd been the woman she was now, she'd have given him back his ring and moved on.
So many things she'd do differently. But not worth dwelling on. This was her path now.
And it looked like a good one.
##
Her terminal was blowing up with shit that wasn't even an emergency. After a year of this, she no longer panicked when messages came in this fast. She took a deep breath and went through her queue the way she used to do triage during a crisis on the Enterprise. Critical, do now; critical, but can wait a bit; medium priority; admin shit she couldn't ignore but would have a good excuse to put off; and bullshit she could erase.
"Look at you go." A warm voice, one she thought she wouldn't hear anymore at Command.
"Admiral?" She turned and grinned at Kirk. "You can take the boy out of Starfleet but you can't take Starfleet out of the boy."
"Hardly a boy, Chris. And for God's sake, call me Jim. I'm retired." He looked good. Tanned and rested. "I was surprised when Matt told me you were working in Ops. Crazy is born here, you do realize that?"
She laughed. "Well, since you're hanging around here, I could say to go look in the mirror."
"I'm just taking your fearless leader out for his birthday."
"Crap. It's his birthday?"
He nodded. "He keeps it as under wraps as I try to do with mine. If, though, you wanted to surprise him in a way that would make him happy and not annoyed, a bottle of Balvenie would go a long way."
She leaned over the bank of terminals. "Hastings. You want a break?"
Hastings nodded with a grin that said he knew where he was probably headed. He always managed to sweet talk his way into a discount at the local mom and pop store. Well, actually it was a pop and pop store, and one of the pops had a wicked crush on him.
"Use what you have to get what you need." One of the many Ops mottos.
She tossed him the "Sunshine Fund" credit bar and pulled up his queue in case anything needed covering. Then she looked back at Kirk. "Any particular Balvenie?"
"I doubt you can afford the thirty, but they make a lovely twelve that won't push you all over your individual limits on what you can buy a direct supervisor and still be within regs." He winked.
Hastings laughed. "Got it, sir." And he was off.
She laughed as she watched him go—oh to be young and beautiful again.
"You love it here, don't you?" Kirk took in the room. "I wouldn't have figured you for the pace."
"I know. But I'm finding I get bored easily. Way more than I used to. This job, it's always something new."
His expression changed. "New is good."
She wondered if it was possible he was already bored with retirement—and the gorgeous woman he'd retired for. Chapel hadn't met Antonia, but she'd seen her: the face that launched a thousand ships—and grounded one man.
He seemed to throw off whatever he was feeling and grinned again, the megawatt smile she was used to. "So Matt can't say enough good things about you."
"After the Danube, I will never take being tight with the boss for granted again."
"That was a crap posting with Talbot. And Carson, well, he's known for bringing his own with him. They're known as the Carsonites."
She laughed but wondered if anyone had a name for Kirk's inner circle. The Kirkettes, maybe?
"Listen, Antonia and I are throwing a party at our house in the mountains next weekend. You should come. Matt'll be there."
"He and I aren't...you know. I mean I know I was involved with Roger, but that's not me anymore."
He rolled his eyes. "I just meant you'd know someone other than me if you came."
"What about the old Enterprise gang. I'll know them."
"The old gang will be on a training cruise." He looked wistful. "And Antonia wants to have the party now, not reschedule."
Chapel wondered whether Antonia had checked to make sure the Enterprise would be away before she chose this weekend. Keep her man free from the people most likely to make him nostalgic for his old life? If she was smart—and Chapel couldn't imagine Kirk staying long with a dumb woman—she would.
And it wasn't like Chapel minded them being gone. She didn't begrudge Ny and Spock the happiness they seemed to have found, but that didn't mean she wanted to watch it close up.
"I'd love to come."
"Great. Now try using my first name." He leaned over and programmed something into her personal comm unit. "The address and our number. People will probably be showing up around noon."
"I'll be there. Jim."
"That's better." He nodded to someone behind her. "Be right there, Matt." As he turned, he whispered, "Remember I never told you about his birthday."
"Got it."
As he moved away, she went back to screening the comms and acting on the ones that were time sensitive. By the time Hastings got back—with a bottle of the thirty-year-old; she didn't want to know how much flirting it had taken to get that—his queue was sorted the way he liked.
She sent a quick all-hands text—excluding Cartwright, of course—about the birthday, and that it was a secret how they knew today was the day, and heard snickers around the bay.
"You're a god," she said to Hastings as she stashed the bottle in her desk drawer.
"You're a goddess," he said as he checked out his queue.
Then they both went back to work. The one constant in this job: queues never stayed clear for long.
##
"Chapel, get in here." Cartwright could be heard throughout the bay.
She finished pouring her coffee, then winked at Hastings and said, "Ah, I love the dulcet tones of our lord and commander when he bellows," before double-timing it into Cartwright's office.
"You ready to up your game?"
"Meaning?"
"Quit being a computer jock and hit the field?"
She didn't even try to hide a very excited smile as she said, "Absolutely, sir."
"You're going to be working with diplomatic. It's not our preference, but often what happens."
She rolled her eyes at the crap diplomats often piled onto the already heavy emergency load.
"Gonna be with Ambassador Sarek."
She tried to hide her surprise. "Oh."
"He asked for you specifically. He's picky about which of my folks he includes on his missions. Something I should know, Christine?"
She laughed and rolled his eyes. "Yes, we're having a mad, passionate affair and he wants me near him. Jesus, Matt, he's a Vulcan. He considers me competent—I take that as a very great compliment."
"Easy, tiger. I didn't realize you knew him is what I meant."
"He rode the Danube a lot."
"Why in God's name would he do that?"
She didn't think Sarek would appreciate her airing his and Spock's dirty laundry, so she just said, "He had his reasons."
"And I can see I'm getting nothing more out of you." He leaned back and his look changed. "That was damn good Scotch, you all gave me."
"You finish it yet?"
"I'm savoring it. Taking my time. Did Jim tell you it was my birthday?"
She shrugged.
"He also knows my favorite scotch."
"So do other people, sir."
"So you're sirring me now, huh? Had to be Jim." He sighed. "I'm worried about him. He seemed manic to me—did he seem that way to you? Like he was trying to convince himself he was happy doing nothing."
"Well, he doesn't need to do nothing. Retirement doesn't mean not making a difference."
"Agreed. But a man like him needs to be in the stars. I give him a few more months and then we'll see a memo that Admiral Kirk is back."
She laughed. "I wouldn't bet against it." Not because Kirk had looked bored, but because Antonia reminded Chapel of someone trying desperately to hold on to someone or something they were sure they were going to lose. Which was sad because Antonia was a sweetheart and it was clear Kirk really cared for her.
But space was probably something he loved more. And always would be.
Well, Antonia would have to learn to share. Plenty of people made it work with half of a couple on terra firma and the other roaming the stars.
No reason Kirk couldn't be happy. In fact, Chapel thought he more than deserved it.
##
Chapel looked around the briefing room on the Celestia. She almost laughed at how the Ops personnel stood out, just from the way they stood, the way they never quite relaxed. She imagined with all the sitting around negotiation tables the diplomatic folks did, relaxing became a survival technique.
Sarek ended the meeting and as the others filed out, said, "Commander. A word?"
She waited for everyone to exit and the doors to close before she said, "Just one word?"
"Sit."
"That's the word?" She laughed as she pulled out the chair next to him out and sat. "Long time since we've had any alone time."
"Indeed."
"Cartwright said you asked for me by name. Color me surprised."
"Did he wish to know why?"
She nodded. "I told him you admired my competency."
"That is true." He seemed to relax. "But I have also missed you."
She dropped the 'tude. "And you're willing to admit it? How much has the Cadmius progressed?"
"Extensively. And not." He didn't appear to want to correct such imprecision, but she didn't need him to. She could remember how it went with her friend's father.
"I'm really sorry." She reached out and took his hand, not caring how beyond appropriate it was.
He didn't pull away. In fact, he laid his other hand over hers, pushing down and closing his eyes as if taking comfort in the contact. They stayed like that for a long moment, then he let her go. "You are happy."
He didn't phrase it as a question probably because he'd read it straight from her. Despite her sympathy for him and for Amanda, she was generally happy these days. She didn't feel the need to elaborate, though—not when his life wasn't heading in the most positive of directions—so she just nodded and gave him the gentlest smile she was capable of.
"I wished that for you. That you would find a place that would give you the satisfaction you deserve."
"Thank you."
"It was self-indulgent of me to request you."
"I don't care. I've missed you, too."
His lips almost ticked up.
"I wish to apologize, Christine. I...used you, as a sounding board, a giver of sympathy. Your name—your reputation—could have been sullied by the choices I continued to make simply because your company brought me comfort. I was weak."
"We were both alone, Sarek. Alone but with people in our lives who normally would have served those functions, no?"
He nodded.
"Aren't you worried it will happen again?"
"T'Keya is no longer on my staff." He said it with as bitter a tone as she'd ever heard from him.
"And she was the sole problem? No one else will draw unwelcome conclusions if you seek me out?"
He let out a puff of air and she stared at him in surprise. There was nothing else for the sound to have been but a laugh—and a wry one at that.
"What's funny?"
"Ironic, to be accurate. T'Keya is T'Pring's sister. After what happened, there were harsh feelings between Amanda and T'Pring's mother T'Danra. I thought that I could help by bringing T'Keya onto my staff, by showing we wished the family no ill. She was always the more brilliant of the two—the more dutiful also. She was an exemplary member of my staff, a high performer."
"And she betrayed you."
"I do not know that she did." He met her eyes, his own dark, as if he was still struggling with this. "I have never been able to ascertain her motives. If she was protecting my wife from what she saw her sister do to Spock. Or if she was punishing her for T'Pring's fate. To be Stonn's property."
"As I understand it, T'Pring's fate was of her own choosing."
"That is so. But Stonn chose another to wed. As was expected by everyone but T'Pring apparently. She took her case to whomever would listen. But tradition stood."
"I feel for her. She loved another and paid the price."
"Yes. But she should have married Spock and taken Stonn as a lover if she wanted to keep her status. Having Stonn as her husband was never an option."
"A fact I find repugnant."
He looked taken aback.
"Sarek, some of your ways are barbaric. For all of your logic. I'm sorry. I call it as I see it. She became property because she didn't want to marry someone chosen for her when she was a child. That's horrible." She leaned in. "And frankly, we might not admit a culture that treated its women that way into the Federation, so I guess it's a good thing Vulcan was one of the founders."
He sat very still, his eyes hard.
She didn't look away, even though she really wanted to.
Then he closed his eyes. "That thought has occurred to me, as well, Christine."
It seemed a monumental admission. One that hung between them for a long time. Then he waved his hand, as if he could wipe the conversation away. "As if I am a typical Vulcan? With my human wife and sons—son I cannot control."
"You said sons. Plural."
"You misheard."
"Bullshit." She didn't know why she was pushing at him this way. About T'Pring. About anything. Was she mad at him for leaving her alone for so long when they had been so comfortable talking openly? "I'm sorry. Never mind." She got up quickly. "I'll see you tomorrow. 0800, right?"
"Sit down."
She didn't.
"I have another son. His name is Sybok. He chose to freely embrace his emotions and was exiled from Vulcan. He is not spoken of—by me, our family, anyone."
She sat back down. "You and Amanda had two sons, then?"
"No. I was bonded to a Vulcan woman before Amanda."
"You divorced?"
"No. She died." He met her eyes. "She did not approve of our son's behavior. Saw it as his way to reach out to Amanda. To her humanity. To show he did not disapprove of my relationship with her."
"Wait, you were with Amanda...?"
"My Vulcan wife and I could not divorce with a bond in place, but we could choose to live apart. And who we lived with once we separated was no longer the other's concern. Except of course every..."
"Seven years," they said together.
"Spock knew him?"
"Idolized him. Until he went too far. Spock was attempting to conform with Vulcan expectations, to not be judged for his humanity, and his full-Vulcan brother was mocking convention." He met her eyes. "I should not be telling you this. Do you understand that? This is not spoken of."
"You never said anything." She reached out for his hand, holding tightly, this time wanting him to read her sincerity—her ability to keep a secret. "What other son? What other wife? I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Thank you." He gently extricated his hand. "I am hungry. Perhaps you could accompany me to the mess hall? We could speak of less weighty matters. For example, you could explain how teaching a class you were not sure you'd enjoy at Starfleet Medical led to a position in Emergency Operations."
"I could do that. Before we go, though, if I've offended you, I'm sorry. These days I speak my mind, and I'm not sure I always care if it hurts people."
"You did not hurt me. I did not expect to speak of most of the things we have discussed, but it was not your fault that we did. It was no doubt an emotional break on my part. I am not at my best without my wife."
"I know." She waited to see if he wanted to say any more, but he simply shook his head gently before indicating she should lead them to the mess hall.
As they walked, she heard him say very softly, "I am grateful you are here."
"So am I."
##
"Chapel?" Cartwright's voice boomed out and just once she wished he'd opt for a text. Her head was killing her from too much drinking at an impromptu Ops happy hour that had turned into an Ops all-nighter. The antitox she hadn't remember to take until this morning had gotten rid of most of the hangover but the headache didn't want to give up.
"Sir?" she said as she walked into his office, then realized someone was sitting at the small table in his room.
"Got a new member of the team, starting next week. Figured you'd want to train her up personally."
"Commander Chapel," Jan said, her formality masking hostility that apparently Cartwright wasn't seeing.
"Lieutenant Rand."
"Oh, cut it out, you two. I know you go way back. She's on comms for now. But I expect her to get the full cross training, yeah?"
"Yes, sir." Chapel looked at Jan and gave her the best smile she could muster. "You'll like it here." She wasn't actually sure that was true. "It's a great place to work." That, she believed.
"I'm looking forward to it." She stood. "Sir, I have a meeting to get to."
"Bet you won't be sorry to leave those behind. See you on Monday, Janice."
"Thank you, sir." She nodded—a bit warily it seemed to Chapel. "Christine."
"Jan." She watched her friend leave, trying to figure out how she felt about this enforced closeness they'd be enduring.
Cartwright seemed unaware of the dynamic. "She does well here and she'll be a lieutenant commander before she knows it." He looked up at her. "Did you happen to glance at the promotion list?"
"It's not out yet."
"Oh, that's right. It's not out yet." He pulled her in to look at his screen. "Congratulations, Commander. Maybe now you can afford decent antitox." He waved her out of his space. " Christ on a crutch, woman, you look like shit today. I thought finding out you'd be serving with a friend would perk you up some. Guess not. Go get some lunch before you fall down."
"Yes, sir." But she didn't leave, just stared at his terminal.
"It's for real, Christine. Full commander is one of the big ones. Most people don't get that high."
She smiled, a real smile. "I know, Matt. I'm thrilled, really. But...shocked, too. I mean I hoped but..."
"Well, now you know. List will be released tomorrow morning."
"Thanks." She turned and hurried back to her station, finishing up a few things and then sending the queue to her back-up.
Fortunately Ops was near the cafeteria, and she got her food and sat, wishing she'd opted for a power nap over food, when she heard a soft cough behind her. She turned and saw Sarek standing behind her. He wasn't holding a tray.
"If you wish to be alone...?"
"Sit." She smiled as he sat across from her in the booth.
"Are you all right?"
"Oh, late night." Then she started to laugh. "And, uh, I just found out I've made Commander."
His eyes shone; he seemed sincerely pleased for her. "Congratulations."
"Thanks. So, what's the occasion? Another mission you want me on?" There had been several more since the last one.
"Undoubtedly there will be, but that is not what I wanted to say. Amanda's health has improved under a new therapeutic regime, one that is best continued on Vulcan."
"That's excellent." She knew she was beaming—both for him and for Amanda.
"We will be gone for some time. I wished...I wished to say goodbye."
"For now." At his look, she laughed. "Goodbye for now. You're coming back, right?"
"Yes. Eventually. But..." He looked down and seemed to be searching for the right words. "I did not want you to think that this was like the last time. When I let our friendship lapse with no explanation."
"Thank you, but you don't have to tell me that. This is wonderful for you. I hope she responds well to the new treatment."
"As do I. I...I love my wife, Christine."
"I know that." Although she thought it was indicative of his state of mind that he would speak of love so easily. He needed this—his wife back. Strong and healthy. "Safe travels, my dear friend."
He met her eyes and held them for a long time, then seemed to have to force himself to look away and get up. He seemed to be searching for some alternative to goodbye.
"The French say it best, Sarek. Au revoir."
"Until I see you again."
"Just exactly. Godspeed. And give Amanda my love." She wanted to pull him in for a hug but settled for a huge grin instead, and watched him until he disappeared into the corridors of Command.
##
"Hey, stranger." Chapel embraced Kirk then let him pull her into line in the cafeteria.
"You got time to sit?"
"Sure." They grabbed some food and as they found a booth to settle into, she said, "Wow, look at you, back in uniform. How's Antonia feel about that?"
His expression changed and she instantly felt bad. "Oh, shit, Jim. No. I really liked her."
"I did, too." He sighed. "She didn't want to share me with space. I'm not sure why I have this impeccable ability to find women who can't share me with the stars."
"I'm not, either. And I'm sorry. I really am."
"I don't want to talk about it. I do want to talk about a certain promotion."
She mock squealed. "Have I got them snookered or what?"
"I'm so proud of you, Chris."
"Thanks. I'm pretty proud of myself, too." She focused on eating for a bit, but studied him. He seemed down, despite the rah-rahs for her. "Do you need distracting? I have funny things the Matt's said about the Klingons."
Kirk laughed. "I'm all right. Or I will be. Spock's letting me tag along on the next training cruise. It'll be right after my birthday. Fifty." He sighed in a dramatic way.
"Hey, older is better than the alternative." She laughed at his expression. "The stars will make it better."
"They always do." He reached out and squeezed her hand. "I'm glad you're happy, Chris. I never felt good about demoting you. You'd worked so hard and I thought when I did it, that it was temporary, you know? We would beat the big threat and then Decker would get the ship back."
"I was mad; I won't lie. But I'm over it."
"I can tell." He gave her hand another squeeze, then let go. "So you seeing anyone? Please tell me one of us is happy in love."
"Nope. I'm trying a new path. Getting to know me. Who I am. What I want. What I'm capable of, you know?"
"All good things. But they won't keep you warm at night."
She laughed. "I have a comforter that does that just fine. And if I want some physical release, there are always temporary solutions for that."
"Yeah. I think that's what I'm going to be focusing on. I kind of thought I was in for the long haul with Antonia, but joke's on me."
"Well your girl will be very happy to have you back." At his look, she rolled her eyes. "The Enterprise, dimwit."
"Oh, right. I hope she is. I've tried to stop thinking of her that way. Tried to let her go. Hope she's not mad at me for it."
"She'll love you forever. Duranium is very faithful."
His laugh rang out and she looked around to see who was near them. She was met with very hostile eyes from across the room. Jan, sitting with Ny, glaring at her.
"Fuck," she said under her breath.
"Excuse me."
"Nothing." Nothing except a whole lot more bitchiness to look forward to. Ny looked upset, too, but Chapel had no idea why. Maybe Spock had forgotten an anniversary.
She turned her attention fully back to Kirk. "So, does this mean you have to give up that beautiful house in the mountains?"
His expression was mournful as he nodded. "And Butler."
"The great dane? That's not right."
"He's better off with her." A statement that made him laugh bitterly, in a way Chapel didn't completely understand. "Story of my life."
"You lose a lot of dogs?"
"Something like that." His comm unit buzzed. "Shit. Morrow wants me." He took a last bite of his sandwich, then got up. "It was great seeing you."
"Same here. Oh, and happy early birthday."
"Yeah"—he stuck out his tongue at her—"thanks."
She wolfed down the rest of her meal, put her tray in the recycler, then walked over to Jan and Ny. "Hi."
Jan's "Hi," was full of hostility but Ny's just sounded lost.
Chapel crouched down. "What's wrong?"
"She and Spock broke up. Not that you'd care."
"Jan, please." Ny moved over so Chapel could slide into the booth. "It was so nice at the start, you know? And then, things fell apart. Or not fell, exactly. They sort of slid, gently. We're still friends. There's no drama."
"I hate it when there's no drama. I want to be able to hate someone with a clear conscience." Jan was staring right at Chapel as she said it.
Chapel decided to ignore the jab. "I'm sorry, Ny. For what it's worth, I thought you two were really good together."
"Yes, because you spent so much time with them."
"Jan, what's your fucking problem?" Chapel pitched her voice low, so it would stay in their booth. "Is it because I was having lunch with a man you can't let go of? Because if that's the case, get over it. I got over Spock, you can get over Kirk."
"Does that mean you're with him?" Ny sounded confused.
"No, I'm not with him. I've never been with him. Why in the hell would I be with him?"
"I don't know." Ny held a hand up. "I never thought you were."
Chapel leaned in. "Jan, for the last time, nothing is going on. He was in the cafeteria when I walked in. We didn't have prior plans to meet—it was just spontaneous." She didn't see Jan's expression giving any quarter. "Jan, please? I don't want to fight. We work together. If we can't be close like we used to, can we just find a way to get along?"
She finally saw Jan give a hard swallow, the kind you do when you're upset, or scared even. She moved while she had the opening. "I don't want to lose you." Which wasn't entirely true. But if it made Jan ease off the animosity, she'd put her whole being into trying to make it sound earnest.
"I'm sorry. You two just seemed so at ease. I...I lost it." Jan sighed and Chapel thought she heard a world of negativity being let go with the sound. "I'm sorry, Christine. I really am. You keep so much stuff to yourself, these days. I feel—excluded. Even working with you, I feel like I don't know you."
"There's nothing to exclude you from. There's work. That's pretty much it right now." She saw them both nod. "For all of us, I guess."
Ny looked up, with the "fuck this" expression in her eyes that Chapel had seen so often during their first voyage. "I say we all go out. Dress up. Find some boys. Use them till they cry. And move on."
"Can we skip the crying part," Chapel muttered and heard Jan laugh—she felt a stunning amount of relief at the sound.
"Fine. But we're definitely picking up some boys." Ny glared at them both like they were going to argue with her. "This weekend. Before I ship out and am stuck taking orders from the man I used to make love to." She looked like she might lose it for a moment, then put her chin up. "Well, fuck him, too. Or not. Not ever. He's losing out. Kiss all this goodbye, Spock."
"That's the spirit, Ny. We'll show all those stupid guys," Jan said, and smiled at Chapel.
For once, they seemed in perfect accord.
##
Chapel sat stunned, unsure what she was seeing in the private comm from Ny. In a week of bizarre and heartbreaking moments, this was the strangest: Spock was alive again, and Ny was exiled with Kirk and the rest of the crew on Vulcan—with a stolen bird-of-prey in place of an Enterprise that Kirk had apparently destroyed while resurrecting Spock.
She walked into Cartwright's office and showed him her comm unit. "Does any of this make sense to you? I know you were just up with the CINC."
"He's done it now," Cartwright said as he paced the room. "Goddamn it, what was he thinking? They'll want his head on a pike."
She realized he was looking at her. "Who will? Starfleet?"
"The Klingons. Who the hell else? They were already spun up after Khan set off Genesis. Now this?" He stopped and stared at her. "He needs a champion."
"Okay."
"A respected ambassador comes to mind."
"Sarek's been through enough."
"You can get him back here."
"I can? What's that supposed to mean?"
"Christine, he always asks for you. Clearly, he feels comfortable with you. I don't know why and I don't care to know. Just...use it. Get him here to testify on Jim's behalf." He leaned in. "All the council is hearing right now is from the so-called injured parties. What's going to happen if no one speaks for him? Do you have any idea what a Klingon prison is like? There's no justice there, just barbarism and survival of the fittest. Is that where you want your friends to go?" He did something to his terminal then stood. "Private channel—and I do mean 'private.' I'll give you the room. Call him. Please?"
"Okay." She took his place at the terminal, waited for him to leave, then located Sarek's number via Spock's emergency contact information in the Starfleet Medical directory and commed him.
Amanda answered. "Christine?"
"I need to speak to Sarek. About a mutual friend who is in deep trouble."
"Hold on, dear." The screen went blank for a moment, then Sarek's face filled it.
"You know how much trouble a certain admiral is in?"
"I do. I feel partly responsible. I asked him to bring Spock's katra home."
"I have no idea what that is, and you can explain it later if you think I should know, but we need you here. From what I understand, the conversations in the council are, shall we say, one-sided and calling for blood. He needs an advocate. A respected one."
"I am not objective. He just returned my son to me."
"You are Sarek of Vulcan. You are renowned for putting the greater good over the needs of any one person. They will listen to you. You will make them listen to you."
"I did not realize you and Kirk were close."
"We're not really. But...he's been good to me. And a very long time ago, I let him down." She hated thinking about all the things she could have done differently in those caverns when they found Roger. "I owe him this. I'm not asking for much. Over and back. I know it's inconvenient, but Amanda looks really good so I think you can leave her, yes?"
His expression changed.
"What?"
"She has stopped responding to the treatments. They are trying new combinations to see if they can maintain effectiveness. For now she is well but..." He looked away. "But yes, for now I can leave her. I will be there as soon as I can."
"Thank you."
She punched the button that opened the door and Cartwright turned. "He's coming." She got up and swayed a little.
How could Spock be alive? She'd cried, alone, in her apartment. Then used a regenerator so Jan wouldn't see she'd mourned.
Why the hell did she have to hide it from her friend? Because she'd said she'd moved on, and she had, but still—he died.
Cartwright was at her side. "You okay?"
"I don't understand anything. I'm not part of this." If there was ever a time it was clear she was not a member of the inner sanctum, this was it.
And yet it was she who would bring Kirk's advocate to Vulcan. What had Sarek been going to do? Stay on Vulcan and leave the man who saved his son to twist in the wind?
"Why don't you go home? You don't look good."
"No. Home is the last place I need to be." She walked to her station, sat, and began going through her queue.
The whole quadrant was going to shit.
But Sarek was on her way. If anyone could make sense of it, it was him.
##
She walked past the post-whale-probe clean-up efforts and found Sarek about to enter the council chamber. His look was gentle as he greeted her.
"I almost got you killed. I'm sorry."
"You did not mean to."
She laughed. "You're right." She could feel a yawn starting, tried to stop it, and failed.
"When did you last rest?"
"I have no idea. I'm so tired. I'll sleep tonight, though."
A chime sounded and the doors to the chamber opened. They followed others in. and Chapel stuck close to him and Gillian, the stowaway who was apparently going to be on a science vessel. Chapel wasn't sure what to make of that.
And then Spock joined them. Alive. Off, somehow. Stiffer than she remembered. But there. Maybe...?
He met her eyes and nodded pleasantly, but there was a hint of wariness in his eyes. Apparently, resurrection did not make the heart grow fonder.
It was almost a relief to let it go. The wanting. The love. All of it. He was never going to be hers.
Another chime, and people began to take their seats. Sarek murmured, "Are you all right?" to her and she nodded, then went to sit by Jan who gave her a game smile. They were trying to make their friendship stronger. It was work, when before hanging around together had been the easiest of things to do, but at least they were trying.
The hearing didn't go how she expected, much to her delight. Once it was done, she hurried down to Ny and hugged her tightly. "I'm so glad you're okay."
"So much to tell you." But given the sad way she looked at Spock, Chapel didn't think it was that they'd gotten back together. "Gotta see this new ship first, though."
Chapel nodded and left the chamber, heading off to a rarely used corridor where she knew she could be alone and just sit in the quiet.
She'd nearly died. They'd all nearly died, and there would have been no handy-dandy Vulcan resurrection ritual to bring them back once the whale-probe got done with them.
Sarek had nearly died because of her. She'd asked him to leave Amanda and what if he'd never gone home? Who would have taken care of her?
"You seem pensive."
She didn't even question that he'd found her here. "Big thoughts rattling around in my tired head."
He sat, and his robes gave off a subtle scent of incense, one that she enjoyed—that made her feel safe. "You were happy to see my son." He met her eyes.
She didn't look away. "He couldn't have cared less that I was happy to see him. I think—I think that was the stake in the heart that this stupid crush needed. Nothing's ever going to happen between him and me."
His eyes seemed unusually intense. "I am unsure what to say."
She laughed. "You could forget about Spock and give me a rash of shit over nearly getting you killed."
"I could. But I do not wish to." He leaned back. "I am tired, too, Christine."
She studied him, trying to be a doctor, not just his friend. "So the treatments—she's not better?"
"Better than when we left for Vulcan, but less well than she was a week ago. The improvements stopped precipitously. The doctors are unsure if the disease mutated or if the formula they used was bound to have limited effectiveness once the body developed a tolerance for it."
"But they'll tinker with it. Until they get it right. It's often frustrating, but they'll figure it out."
"It is kind of you to try to lessen my concern. It is futile, however. I do not foresee a miracle cure for my wife." He sounded forlorn as he said the brutal truth. Then he turned to her, his eyes hard and demanding. "Do you?"
"No, but Vulcans are brilliant. They will surely find the right mixture—"
"She is human, Christine. How much time do you think they will spend attempting to create a cure for a disease to which Vulcans have natural immunity? A cure that will benefit one woman and the small percentage of others who develop it on Earth."
"The needs of the many...?"
He nodded. "I have not told her this. I tell her they make progress. I cannot tell if she knows I am lying or not."
"Sometimes lying is the kindest thing to do."
"It is all I do with her these days. You and I speak truth so often. I would have that back with my wife." He rubbed his eyes.
"Sarek, go to the embassy and get some sleep. Despair and exhaustion go hand in hand." Another Emergency Ops truism, but one she could get behind as a doctor.
"I will go if you also go home."
"Not how it works. I'll leave soon. I just can't leave now. But you can. So go."
He stood and walked away but then turned abruptly. "I want you to know that I value your friendship greatly."
She gave him as brilliant a smile as she could muster. "I feel the same way."
##
Chapel sat with Ny and Jan in a club that she really hadn't wanted to come to, but they were making strides the three of them, looking more like the solid pack they used to be and less like people who just worked together, and she didn't want to do anything to get in the way of that.
She'd missed them.
"Dance?" a man asked who'd sidled up next to her at the bar and already asked if he could buy her a drink. She'd held up her nearly full one as an answer but he was definitely not in the hint-taking department.
"No thanks," she said.
It wasn't that he wasn't a nice looking man or that he smelled bad. She just was tired and not in the mood for someone new.
"Could you be any more of a bitch to them?" Jan shook her head. "And you wonder why I think you have someone on the side you're not telling us about?"
"If I had someone on the side I wasn't telling you about, I'd be dancing with whoever asked." It was what she'd done when she was with Roger. She glanced at Ny, who was watching the dancers with a look dark enough to scare away potential suitors. "What's her story?"
"She and Spock had a long talk. A not good long talk."
"Ugh." But Chapel felt a surge of annoyance. Why did Ny always tell Jan this kind of stuff and not her?
"Also, she had a fling with Scotty under the influence of Spock's brother's woo woo. And how did I miss he had a brother? Did you know?"
"I'd have told you." Which was partially true. During their first mission, she would have. "And Scotty?"
"She's a little sensitive about it. Also about some wacky fan dance she did. Naked. Don't ask unless you want to be seared by her crazy laser-beam eyes."
"I can hear every word you're saying," Ny said, not turning away from the dance floor.
The peril of spending a life picking meaningful signal out of tons of noise was probably that you heard everything whether you wanted to or not.
She finally turned and stared hard at Chapel. "If you say anything to anyone about any of this, I will hunt you down and kill you." She looked entirely serious so Chapel held up her hands in surrender. "And Scotty was nice. He...he gave me warmth when I needed it. When Spock was so cold, and then when he wasn't but still didn't want me back." She looked at both of them. "How am I supposed to work with him?"
"Transfer off," they said as one.
But Chapel knew she wouldn't. She was part of the club, and she didn't want to start over somewhere else being an outsider. Also, truth to tell, she'd homesteaded so long with Kirk, people had probably stopped considering her. She'd need to make the first move, possibly take a less appealing job, just to show she was serious about trying new things.
"What if you and Roger had broken up, Christine?" Ny shook her head. "You had projects in common, right? It would have been hard to leave?"
"What project do you and Spock have in common?" Jan rolled her eyes.
Ny looked hurt. "Years of missions."
"Those are memories, not projects." Jan looked at the door and her expression changed. "Jesus, can we never be free of them?"
Chapel followed her gaze and saw Kirk and Len. They smiled when they saw them, maneuvered through the crowd, and she could tell Kirk was going to ask her to dance so as subtly as she could she shook her head and nodded toward Jan.
He didn't ask why or even react, just smoothly adjusted his route in a way she didn't think Jan would notice, and asked her to dance.
To say she was pleased was an understatement.
Len, ever the southern gentleman, didn't ask Ny or her, no doubt because he didn't want to leave the other one alone. But also because he seemed to want to drink: bourbon and a generous portion.
"Celebrating or mourning?" she asked.
"A little of both, I suppose."
"Where's the final member of the trinity?"
"The dour one?" Len grinned. "No idea. Probably meditating somewhere." He smiled at Ny gently. "Certainly not where he should be."
"Thanks, Leonard."
"Just speaking my mind. Man's an idiot." He turned to Chapel. "And what about you? You boycotting serious relationships or something?"
"Asks the king of them?" Saying that to him was mean; even this many years later, he was still touchy about his divorce.
"Either you need more of whatever you're drinking or you need to be cut off—not sure where you are on the 'alcohol makes me mean and then nice and then mean again' train."
She laughed; he knew her too well. "I'm at the start. The first mean section of the track."
He motioned the bartender over. "Another of those for the lady. Suck that down, Christine." He was far gentler with Ny as he took her empty glass. "And she'll have another, too."
"No, I've had enough." Ny slid off the stool. "I've got something I've got to do. Go dance with Christine, Leonard." She gave them both quick hugs. "Tell Jan I'll talk to her later."
Len leaned against the bar and said, "Something she's gotta do? In a pig's eye. Someone, is more like it. I feel for Scotty. He's crazy about her, and she's using him to forget Spock."
"Isn't that what any of us do, though? I mean in general. Use people?"
He looked disappointed in her. "Yeah, we probably do. But not our friends, Christine. Not our goddamned friends."
##
Chapel followed an attendant into the sitting room of what must be Sarek and Amanda's private quarters in the embassy. Amanda was sitting in a wingback chair, her skin pale—she looked like she'd lost weight since the last time Chapel had seen her, and she was tiny to begin with.
"Amanda. What can I do?" She hurried over.
"I need your help."
"Anything. Do you need stronger meds—" She stopped talking as several more attendants came out with luggage.
"Take them to the flitter. I'll be there shortly," Amanda said, her voice little more than a whisper, and Chapel had the feeling she was trying not to cry.
"Let me go get Sarek for you. Where is he?"
"Sarek is the last thing I need right now." She closed her eyes. "Or more aptly, I might need him, but he's the worst thing I could have."
"Madame?" A Vulcan woman in gorgeous robes stood in the doorway. She was beautiful—but what Vulcan woman wasn't?
"Christine, T'Rua," she waved off the rest of an introduction. "Christine, T'Rua is a priestess from Vulcan. She's here for Sarek. For the burning. Do you understand me or must I speak more plainly?"
Chapel stared at the the priestess who met her eyes with a bland expression. She wasn't young; Chapel could see where make-up hid lines, hair coloring probably masked gray. There was little she probably hadn't seen in her years of...service.
"I don't understand, Amanda. Where will you be?"
"Far from here. If I tell you, you might tell him."
"Why would I tell him?"
"Because he trusts you. Because you are, I believe, the person he trusts most right now. And because if he can't find me and he suspects that you know where I have gone, he may meld with you and force the information from you. I don't want you hurt and I don't want to be found."
"But you're bonded... Won't he have to? With you, I mean." She shot an apologetic glance at the priestess.
T'Rua helped Amanda out of the chair, then let her go. "It is not uncommon for a bondmate to be unavailable whether due to professional commitments or physical constraints. Sarek will shift his focus away from her once he realizes has no other choice."
"How far along is he?"
"A day, maybe two," Amanda said. "I would suggest if you have leave, you take it."
"Off world, you mean?"
"It will save you an awkward conversation with him, if nothing else. Do you really want to be the one who tells him I ran from him?"
"Why didn't you plan this together?"
Amanda's look was annoyed. "We did. But logic departs when the Pon Farr takes over. And the signs were clear so I called for T'Rua, and now I will leave. As he and I planned—do you really think I wouldn't talk to him about this?" Again the look, this time flat-out angry.
She had to be feeling the burning, too. Not as much, being human and perhaps gaining distance from the meds. But to some extent the Pon Farr would affect her and leaving Sarek would feel wrong. Hence the anger.
"Do you think you know him better than I do?" This time she sounded more like Jan being jealous than suffering from guilt-induced anger.
"Amanda, of course not."
"Get off the planet, Christine. He will be angry with you for helping me. You don't have to experience what he's like when he's unhappy." Amanda turned away, holding out a hand to the priestess. "I'm ready to go. Please, if you would, the stairs."
"Of course." T'Rua nodded to Chapel, then helped Amanda navigate the stairs.
Chapel waited until they were safely out, took a last look around this room Amanda had been in such a rush to leave, then took the stairs in as unhurried a manner as she could and left the embassy Once she was well clear of the building, she pulled out her comm unit and called Cartwright.
"It's quiet this week, right? No killer machines or our friends facing Klingon justice?"
He laughed softly. "It is. You finally hit the wall?"
"Something like that, yeah. I think I'll take some time off. If that's okay?"
"I've been telling you to. Take a week. And rest up because I plan on taking two weeks very soon and you're going to be in charge." He smiled gently. "Going somewhere nice?"
"Yeah. Just not sure where yet."
"Splurge. You've got the credits, Commander."
She smiled, loving the way he said it, the way he managed to make it sound different than when she'd been a lieutenant commander. "Roger that, sir."
##
Chapel sat back in the leather chaise she'd bought when she'd graduated from med school, sipped some wine she'd been saving, and enjoyed being just quiet in her own place. She'd considered leaving, finding some exotic place to go visit, but she couldn't get Amanda's words out of her mind. It would be easy to chalk up anything she'd said to Pon Farr agitation, but she'd seemed so determined to make Chapel want to leave.
And to make her afraid of Sarek.
As if he would ever hurt her? If Amanda thought that, then she didn't understand the kind of friendship he and Chapel had.
Besides, he might not even show up here. It wasn't as if he'd ever been over. And she wasn't waiting for him. She was still in her pajamas for cripe's sake in the middle of the afternoon. Taking it easy. Relaxing.
She'd more than earned the time off, and she had this great place with a stellar view and she was never in it. Not awake anyway.
Although it was hard to stay awake with the sun shining in on her and the wine—and too many hours on duty—making her sleepy. She closed her eyes and drifted, strange fragments of thoughts merging with dreams.
Until the repeated sound of her door chime woke her up.
She called out "Come" as she was getting up, saw the look on Sarek's face as he walked in, and realized maybe Amanda had been right.
Maybe she didn't know him as well as she thought.
"Where is she?" He was clearly furious.
"I don't know." She tried the voice she'd used as a nurse, the one that calmed down even the most panicked patient. "Sarek, listen to me. This is not where you need to be."
"You think I am not aware of that." He advanced, the movement predatory, and she stepped back, until she was brought up short by the wall that separated her bedroom from the main space. She tried to move, but he grabbed her by the throat.
But he didn't squeeze, and his grip was...gentle. "Where is my wife, Christine?"
"I don't know, Sarek." She tried to ease away, but he only grabbed her shoulder with his left hand, his right still around her throat but not choking her—she didn't think he'd even leave finger marks he was holding so carefully. "She told me you'd come to me, Sarek. She told me you'd be looking for her. She said you might even meld with me to find out. It's why she wouldn't tell me where she was going."
"She left me."
"She wasn't strong enough. Her illness." She tried to ease away but he shook his head. "She told me to tell you to go to the priestess that's come for you. I'm to remind you she's waiting. T'Rua. She expects you."
He closed his eyes. "The priestess. Yes."
She waited for him to let go. Waited for him to turn and leave her for the stranger that he and Amanda had decided was the answer to this.
He opened his eyes and stared at her in a way he never had before. "She pleases me not at all."
"I'm sorry."
He seemed to realize how he was holding her and let go of her throat, sliding his hand up to her face, stroking her cheek. Tenderly.
She closed her eyes and bit back a moan.
"Christine, why are you here? At your apartment instead of at Starfleet Command."
"I'm on vacation. For the week. But...Amanda told me to go away, another planet, far from you. That you would be angry with me. She implied..." She stopped talking as he let go of her shoulder and ran his fingers through her hair.
"What did she imply?"
"That you might hurt me. To get the information you need." She grabbed his hand and pushed it more firmly against her head. "I was going to go. Far, far away. But...I'm not afraid of you."
"No, you are not afraid." His lips ticked up, into the barest of smiles. "And you did not wish to go. You are angry at her. But not at me."
"You're my friend."
"Am I not more than that?" He studied her, and she suddenly felt very exposed in her tank top and pajama bottoms. "I came here. You should have been at work, but I came here." He looked down, his expression thoughtful. "I knew you were here."
He met her eyes and she didn't look away. Finally, she whispered, "And I knew you'd come. Even if I tried to tell myself I wasn't waiting for you."
"I am gratified you waited." His pupils were dilated as he pressed against her slowly. "I burn for thee."
"The priestess."
"The priestess has nothing that I want. I do not care for her." He found the meld points and pressed gently. "As I do for you. Shall I show you?"
She knew this was the moment. That if she told him no, he'd leave and go to T'Rua.
She should tell him to go. But instead she whispered, "Yes. Show me."
For a moment he kept himself under control, and she saw her interactions with him playing quickly, the things he noticed about her, he liked her eyes; he loved her smile.
And then the rush of heat came, the burning, and she thought she should be afraid, but he murmured, "I will not hurt you. I will never hurt you." And she saw how he felt about other parts of her, how he wanted to touch her breasts, the back of her neck, the small of her back.
She gave herself over to the fire as he lifted her and carried her to the bedroom, and she ripped his robe off him before he pushed her onto the bed and took her, shifting clothing out of his way rather than removing it completely.
He never let up on the meld, making it stronger, deeper, and for just a moment she felt the sting of an observer.
He slowed his thrusting, seemed to come back to himself, and they both breathed hard as he continued to take her, as Amanda's presence faded out, no doubt as her pain meds kicked in.
"Sarek, I know you felt her, too. If you want the priestess...?"
"We will not speak of the priestess—or my wife—again. Until the burning is over."
He hadn't let go of the meld and she tried to assess what he was feeling. There was guilt, but less than she expected.
There was something else, too. Love. He loved her.
"I love you, too," she said as she wrapped her legs more tightly around him and urged him to take her hard and fast—to claim satisfaction in a way Amanda could no longer give him.
His cry of pleasure as he buried himself in her echoed in her mind—she wondered if it reached all the way to wherever Amanda had gone.
And then he deepened the meld even more and she stopped thinking about anything but pleasing and being pleased by him.
##
She woke up, naked and half lying on him, a sheet wrapped around their legs, the rest of the covers kicked all over the room. He was watching her with an expression she couldn't read, but his eyes were gentle.
"Do you have any idea what day it is?" she asked, a grin starting as he shook his head. "Should I be sorry you're here?"
"I cannot tell you how to feel."
"How do you feel?"
"Do you mean is the burning over? Yes, it is. Do you wonder if I feel guilty for not returning to the priestess? Yes, I do? Do you want to know if I still desire you now that the Pon Farr is over?" He touched her face, then pulled her close and kissed her fiercely. "Does that answer your question?"
"Very thoroughly, Ambassador."
"I am known for my thoroughness." He reached for her hand and guided it down his chest, then lower, to where she could feel him growing under her touch. "This is what you do to me, with no burning to urge me on."
"Is it wise to tell me this? You have a wife you love. That I assume you do not plan on leaving."
"Both are true. And yet, I do not want you to think I used you only because you were available. That it was only the burning that made me desire you. I wanted you. I still do."
"I see." She tried to process what to do with this information, then remembered the weird sense of sharing him for a moment. "Amanda was there briefly, wasn't she? With us—between us."
"Yes."
"Did she know it was me?"
"I believe she did. The emotion driving me would have been absent with any other partner, barring her, of course."
"Fuuuuuuuuuuck." She let go of him and closed her eyes. "It's why she wanted me to leave. She must have known, must have sensed your interest?" She met his eyes; he nodded slowly. "She's going to hate me. Or she already does."
She realized she was starting to tear up and blinked furiously. She was not going to cry. "I didn't set out to hurt her."
"I know. She, too, will know that." His voice was so sweet, so careful of her.
She leaned in and kissed him. Not the enflamed kisses of the burning, but a gentler touch. One of love. "I still want you."
"And I you." But he didn't reach out, didn't pull her to him, and she loved him for it. She loved him because he was a good man.
He wasn't Roger with his bedmate of the week.
She eased away from him and checked her comm unit. "Three days in bed." She realized there were crumbs in the bed and empty water containers on the floor. They'd apparently kept hydrated and eaten. Not that she could remember it; her memories were of the many ways he'd taken her, the things he'd asked her to do to him, the pleasure he'd given her.
"Normally it is two days. For me, I mean. Each individual is different."
"You've had to deny your desires, right? Because she's ill? It makes sense you might have more frustration to get out once you were free to let go."
"Logical. And no doubt correct."
He eased himself up so he was leaning back against the headboard, and she settled in next to him, her arm against his. "I want to stay in this bed, Christine. I want to take you with no biological drive forcing my hand. You must know that. But...I cannot."
"I know." She felt him easing away and said, "Please tell me we'll still be friends."
"What you are to me—it is no longer something I can decide to be or not be with you. It is. We are. I will always want to spend time with you. In all ways, not just like this." He twined his fingers with hers for a moment, holding tightly, then he let go and got up. "I must go."
"You must shower. Then you should go." She grinned, trying to get them back somehow to when it was easy and fun and not something he might run from. The thought of him running nearly broke her. "Let me get you a clean towel."
"Thank you." By the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes, she could tell he was thanking her for much more than just a towel.
##
Chapel was once again following an attendant into Amanda's sitting room. This time there was no priestess to overhear, no bags being prepared.
Amanda tilted her head and studied her, her expression impossible to read.
"You knew he'd come to me. What I can't figure out is if you wanted me to be there for him—or if you wanted me very far away."
"I understand you better than you think, my dear. You're not unlike my son in that respect. Tell you to go right, you go left."
Chapel stared at her. Who was this woman? "Meaning?"
"Meaning I...hoped Sarek would come to you, and I knew you'd be there if he did."
"Hoped? Hoped?"
"Oh, Christine, please. Save the outrage. Do you think I couldn't see what's been happening between the two of you? This is more than simply lust on his part for a younger woman. He trusts you. He likes you." She stopped and Chapel wondered if it was because she'd been about to say, "He loves you."
"I never meant for this—"
"You think I don't know that?" Amanda took her hand, the gentle grip shocking when Chapel expected anger. "I'm not mad at you. He's...satisfied. For the first time in months. I want that for him." Her grip tightened and her expression grew almost scarily grim. "Do you love him?"
"I'm not having this conversation with you." Chapel jerked her hand away and started to get up.
"Sit down." Amanda's voice was like a whip, and Chapel found herself minding. "Sarek is a Vulcan in his prime. I'm sick. We're bonded. What about this doesn't compute for you?"
"Don't you think he's capable of being faithful?"
Amanda leaned back and laughed—a horribly bitter sound. "You're so smart usually. Of course I know he is. That's the problem. I feel it. Every time I come back from a bad spell, the bond springs back to life and his sexual need...batters me." She swallowed visibly. "He can't get to me when I take my pain meds. They turn off the connection. I take them more often than I should just to get some peace from everything he wants from me."
She took a ragged breath. "Do you have any idea what it was like to feel that need...go away. Oh, there was guilt built in—I could feel it from him. And it hurt, to be part of what he feels for you—and what you feel for him. Did you think I could be bonded to him and not know?"
Christine looked down.
"No, don't do that. I told you. I'm not mad. This isn't my preference, clearly. I'd rather be there for him myself. But I can't and right now, well, it feels good. All that desire gone, poured into something that wasn't me." She took Chapel's hand again. "Someone that wasn't me. You. Someone I actually like. Someone who can replace me eventually."
"I think the disease and the meds are keeping you from thinking straight, Amanda." She knew it was a harsh thing to say but didn't care.
"No, darling, I see things so clearly. You're the one who's in denial."
"He won't come back to me. It was a temporary fix." Chapel closed her eyes, wishing she'd just stayed on the Enterprise when Spock wanted to give it a whirl. Worrying about whether or not he wanted Kirk would have been a walk in the park compared to this. She again pulled her hand free.
"He'll come back to you. Because I'm going to tell him what I just told you. Only in less strident terms, perhaps. He'll be doing me a favor and getting what he wants. The needs of the many..."
"Don't. Don't pervert that."
"As if you wouldn't like having him? Who are we hurting with an arrangement like this? My story's outcome is inevitable. Just the timing is uncertain. You love with such consistency, Christine. It's why I always wanted you with my son. And now you're ideal for my husband because I know you can wait to be his wife. But you won't have to wait to become his lover." Amanda closed her eyes, her mouth tightening, and Chapel knew she was in pain but offered no help.
"You're mad at me, aren't you, child?" Amanda laughed. "I had to wait for him. Did you know that?" She reached into her handbag and pulled out a hypo, pushing it into her skin and sighing. "He was married when we met. Bonded. We were lovers while he was tied to her. So I fully understand what kind of life I'm asking you to live. And...he's worth it."
She wanted to tell Amanda she knew, she wanted to hurt her, let her know the trust Sarek had put in her, telling her about Sybok, about so many things. But he did trust her—to be discreet. So she stayed silent, biting back the hurtful things.
Amanda stood slowly. "He'll probably be by tonight or tomorrow. Whenever I tell him. He'll need time to think but ironically he tends to do his best thinking, when it comes to matters of the heart, by talking to the woman he loves."
"You're the woman he loves."
"Yes. But that doesn't mean you can't be, too." She leaned down and let her lips linger on Chapel's cheek. "And we both know you already are. I'm sorry, darling, that I can't dress this up in rainbows and kittens for you. But I have to take care of myself." She pressed her lips hard against Chapel's skin: a cruel benediction. Then she left, her grace not at all affected by the pain or the meds or what she'd just set in motion.
##
Chapel didn't see Sarek for the next several weeks. He was on a mission the first week, and then she was filling in for Cartwright for the next two, and working until she dropped seemed a prudent way to not focus on how fucked up her life might be.
Sleeping in one of the cots they kept in a sleep room in the back of Ops also ensured Sarek couldn't get to her, not now, when she was exhausted and stressed and still so damned angry at Amanda.
But then Cartwright came back, took one look at her, and pointed to the door. "Forty-eight hours away from here." At her protest, he said, "I'll comm if I need you."
She nodded, relieved he was back, grateful to drop the act and let herself collapse—but not too yet. She still had to walk home.
"Oh, and Sarek's out there. He said he wanted to talk to you about an upcoming mission." Cartwright narrowed his eyes. "You really are his favorite."
She just laughed, a short bitter puff of air. "What can I say? Years serving with Spock taught me how to deal with Vulcans." Cartwright didn't know her pathetic history with Spock or that excuse would never have flown. "Gonna leave before I fall down, boss."
"Git." He waved her off with a grin.
She saw Sarek and knew her smile was a real one, if only half strength because she was so tired. She could feel an energy between them even with no meld.
"I left you alone."
"I appreciate that."
"But now we need to talk. And you are exhausted."
"Got that right."
He actually took her arm and steered her toward the VIP entrance. "I brought a flitter."
"You usually walk."
"I could sense you were tired."
"How? We're not bonded."
He opened the door of the flitter and let her go first. "Some combination of sympathy and intuition. I do not know, truthfully." He gave the flitter her address and then leaned back.
She curled her legs under her, and was surprised when he put his arm around her and pulled her in. "Are you sure?"
"Be still." If any other man had said it, she'd have whapped him. But there was such tenderness in Sarek's voice, as if her question was incredibly stupid.
When wasn't he sure? When didn't he know his mind? After three weeks—and he hadn't involved her, which showed just how much Amanda knew about some things—he probably more than knew what he wanted.
While Chapel had avoided the hell out of thinking about it whenever possible.
She gave in and cuddled against him, dozing off on the short ride, only half awake as they entered her building, took the lift, and she palmed them into her apartment.
"You are too tired to talk about this now."
She was about to protest when she realized he'd led her to the bedroom, was gently taking her clothes off, folding them neatly, then pulled the covers back. She got into bed, wondering if he was going to kiss her on the head and read her a story, too, but he stripped off his clothes and got in next to her.
"Your wife is home."
"My wife is heavily sedated and uninterested in discussing this further with me."
"I hate this, Sarek. She's taken something innocent and turned it ugly."
"A possible perspective. But may I offer another?"
She nodded and curled into him, snaking her arm over his chest.
"She took something she had no part in creating, something that is strong and good but threatens her in ways she does not want to admit, and is trying to control it."
"I like your version better."
"I thought that you might." He kissed the top of her head, letting his lips linger.
"I want to make love to you. But I'm beat."
"We will make love in the morning, before you report to work." He didn't stumble over the words "make love." She loved how easily he said them.
"I have two whole days off."
"Then we will make love for two days. I have nothing scheduled." At her laugh, he kissed her, a chaste kiss to start with, but she opened her mouth and he wasn't shy about turning it into a demonstration of how much he wanted her.
And then he stopped, easing away, finding he best way for them to put legs and arms—getting comfortable was never easy with a new partner—and she was out.
When she woke up, she was alone in bed, but she could hear someone in the kitchen, and unless Cartwright had sent in a special breakfast-serving service, she was pretty sure it was Sarek.
"Who's in my kitchen?" she called out, faking being grumpy.
He called back, "It is I. Is that a problem?"
"Only if you can't cook."
"I am making coffee, not cooking."
"Close enough." Her kitchen was criminally underused for how nice it was. "Ah," she said as he carried in two mugs. They'd served on enough missions that he knew how she liked her coffee, and he'd made it perfectly this time. "Sweet nectar of the gods."
They leaned against the headboard, arms pressed against each other just as the first time, but the moment didn't feel fraught. Not that it was in any way certain what lay ahead.
"Sarek, what are we going to do?"
"We have many options. I will admit that hearing from my wife that my presence—the very desire I hold for her—is a burden to her...hurt me."
"I can't imagine saying that."
"I have often wondered if at times she has sought oblivion—temporary at any rate—in the medicines. And she admitted she has."
She pushed harder against him but wasn't sure what to say.
"You are insightful, Christine. What do you think?"
"I think she's made it so that cheating on her will be an altruistic gesture on her part. I think, for the record, that it's obscene. On the other hand, I...I love you. So I want to believe that it's win, win, win. That I wouldn't be some standard mistress, stealing you away from a longsuffering spouse and then finding myself alone on holidays, sitting by the comm unit waiting for some window of opportunity to open up so you could dash over here, fuck me, and leave again." She met his eyes. "Sorry, my language sucks when I speak plainly."
"I do not mind."
"After Roger, I swore I'd never sneak around again. And I haven't. But even if we're open with her, the rest of the world is not going to get it. I'll be in the shadows. Loving you from the goddamned shadows."
"Yes. You you will. As will I have to care for you discreetly. There will be times, I am sure, where I will want to be with you instead of her, but will not be able to come."
She sighed and he put his coffee down, then put hers on the nightstand, and wrapped his arms around her.
"If you were anyone else, I'd say no." She was whispering but she knew he could hear her easily. "But when I'm with you, I feel...whole. I don't let people in much anymore. Men, especially. Maybe for a night or two, but that's it. But with you...I want so much more. I want to be with you. Any way that I can. No matter what it costs." She pulled him down for a kiss. "Because I know I'm not just your mistress. I'm her successor."
There it was said, and it was horrible, banking on her death in the somewhat near future, but it was also true, and there was no point in lying to this man. She didn't want to start their relationship that way.
But he was very quiet and she thought maybe the truth had been overstepping. "Did I misspeak?"
"No. They were just hard words to hear." He pushed her down. "But also reassuring. That you love me enough to feel that way. To want to wait to have all of me."
"I think it's important to say this, too: what we're on the brink of doing...it's wrong. At some level, it is. Our friends and family will certainly think so. We can't delude ourselves into thinking this is the norm. Vulcans bond for life. They don't have young, waiting in the wings, mistresses. Do they?"
"Not as a rule. But it is unlikely I would be in this situation were I married to a Vulcan." He pushed back her hair, holding it tightly, as if he could read her better with nothing hiding her features. "You speak truth, though. I understand. This does us no credit and yet, I want this."
"I want this, too." She could feel him hard against her, and she reached down, making him moan and groan, until she finally crawled on top of him and rode him until he cried out, clutching her. "Hold still," she said, as she moved carefully on him, still semi-ready for her, as she found the sweet spot for herself, and let go.
Sex without the burning was oh so much better.
He was watching her, a tick of his lips showing how much he'd enjoyed watching her come. "You are free. Open. I enjoy it greatly."
She suddenly wondered if Amanda was a bit of a prude, if she denied him things. But no—she couldn't make her villain. It was the natural thing to do, cognitive dissonance at its most powerful. Chapel was screwing over someone she knew and liked, and her brain couldn't balance that action and the belief that she was herself a good person. So it would change the parameters. Turn the person being screwed over into a bad person.
She couldn't lose sight of the fact that Amanda was the victim here. Of the disease. Of the bond—and all the psychic linkages it brought that a human would normally never have to deal with.
She had to remember that Amanda wasn't the enemy.
No one was.