Chapter Two

Spock had never seen Starfleet Academy's Dance Troupe perform before, not even when he himself had been at the Academy. At the time, he had thought it unimportant, a waste of time that was better spent in the lab or in one of the Academy's libraries, conducting experiments or researching into various queries both for his work and for personal pleasure.

Had he known then what he would know later on, perhaps he would have gone to see the Dance Troupe's performances more religiously.

All of that was in the past, he used to tell himself, and despite the proven existence of time travel from personal experience, when he had encountered such opportunities to go into the past he had never made it to this particular point.

Now was different, though. When he had heard that the Dance Troupe was going to be performing, and just who was going to be onstage, he decided to go – mostly because it was going to be the last time he was ever going to see Rebecca Sanders dance.

He remembered her – or at least, the Rebecca who had existed in his reality. When he first met her she had been in her early thirties, the same age as Kirk, for she had been born to his father's sister and her husband only a month after him. Her hair was dark where Kirk's was blonde, but they had the same eyes, and the same spirit burned clearly behind them.

Vulcan though he was, he had found her beautiful: not in a stunning way, for neither she nor Kirk possessed any remarkable features that would qualify extreme comeliness. But just as Kirk had a charisma that made him irresistible to females of many species, Rebecca possessed a liveliness about her that made her seem more alive than any of the females Spock had ever encountered.

And he had responded to that. He had responded to it with such force that it surprised him. He had speculated it was a residual effect of the pon farr – after all, he met her on Altair Six, immediately after the incident with T'Pring (1). But when she stayed aboard the Enterprise for a year to help McCoy train more trauma medics, he quickly realized that what he felt was no residue from pon farr, but something else, far deeper than he had expected. Naturally, he kept everything under control, but it was occasionally difficult, especially since she often came to seek the company of her cousin, and more often than not, Kirk was either with him or with McCoy.

Spock believed what he had been feeling then could have been love – or something very close to it. He had not had the chance to fully explore it, because the idea of pursuing Rebecca romantically was also thoroughly repellent to him – not because she was Human, but because the idea made him nervous, and nervousness was not something he enjoyed feeling. Years and years later, he came to understand that what he felt was natural: the desire to offer such feelings to the person at whom those feelings were directed was always accompanied by the fear of rejection.

It was illogical, but then again, did not Humans say that love had a logic all its own, usually completely incompatible with intellectual logic?

A small smile crossed his mouth, a smile that was unnoticeable except to those who were observing him closely. Fortunately, no one was doing that at the moment, because their attention was drawn to the stage up ahead as the curtain parted for the next performance.

Rebecca – younger than when he first met her – was onstage, her back to the audience, and her hair loose around her shoulders. She was wearing a bright red dress, stitched with gold along the sleeves and skirt. Moments later the music started up: fiery, almost violent, and as she turned to the audience and danced – hair flying, red dress swirling – Spock knew she was trying to convey the emotion of passion, but finely controlled and restrained.

And there was the other reason why he had fallen in love with the Rebecca of his time: talking to her, he had come to learn that feelings were not such a bad thing, as long as one had ways and means of harnessing them. It would take him years, though, to completely understand and accept that fact, but once he did, he knew she had been right all along.

Watching her onstage, now, in the present he now inhabited, she truly was a wonder. Every movement was precisely coordinated to the music, each one carefully controlled so as to give the impression of the flame of passion caged in the flesh of her supple body. How strange, that it would take strict discipline to create the impression of wildness – and yet it made perfect sense.

Finally, with the high singing of violins and the resonant sound of a gong, the music and her dance came to an end, and the audience roared with applause and appreciative shouts and whistles. Spock himself applauded, knowing he would never see such a sight again.

He stayed a while after that, watching one more performance, but the reason he had come here in the first place was to see her dance. He drifted away then, slipping through the crowd, unnoticed and unmarked by anyone. It was the exit he preferred.

As soon as he was out in the open again, he paused, and glanced back at where he had come, and contemplated on possibilities. If he had decided to see a Dance Troupe performance when he was still in the Academy, even just once, then it was possible she would have come to know him earlier. Perhaps they would have become friends. Perhaps it would have given him the time to overcome his own personal conflict and come forward as a suitor. Perhaps they would have become lovers. Perhaps they would have even wed, started a family, with blue-eyed, raven-haired children.

He closed his eyes, and looked away. Such thoughts were illogical. The past was the past, and while he was in the past, so to speak, there was no way he could change it, not now. He was an old Vulcan, and he was needed elsewhere.

Now was not the time for regret. The future of his race – or what was left of it – was of greater import now.

--+--

Leonard McCoy had heard of Club Fusion, mostly from his younger colleagues. They described it as the club to see and be seen, mostly because of the drinks served and the music played. He'd been interested in scoping it out, just once, but the last time he'd dropped by there had been a long line out front, and there was no way he was getting past the bouncer in front of the door unless he was on the guest list or knew someone on the inside.

This time around, though, he had an in, taking the form of Jim Kirk and a bunch of tickets in his hand, courtesy of his cousin, Rebecca. Now that he thought about it, he didn't recall Kirk mentioning a cousin named Rebecca – hadn't ever mentioned that he had a cousin at all. Still, since this Rebecca was in the Dance Troupe, and the Dance Troupe had closed Club Fusion for their own after-party, he supposed that there were some advantages to having that connection.

Next to him, he heard the grin in Pavel Chekov's voice as he remarked, "I've always wanted to come here, but I could never get in."

"Hippest club in town," Hikaru Sulu remarked, and his voice had the tone of one who had been there before, with many fond memories to accompany the visit. "And it's always packed. The last time I was here it was on an invite from a friend who knew someone on the inside."

"This club, it is exclusive then?" Chekov asked.

Sulu nodded. "Like you wouldn't believe. I'm actually impressed the Dance Troupe managed to have the place closed for their personal use." He stood a little straighter. "Too bad Scotty couldn't come. I heard he's been to this place quite a few times before."

McCoy sighed, and glanced at Spock, who, all this time, had been silent. Even during the performance itself, he had been remarkably quiet. "Guess you've never been here either, have you Spock?"

The Vulcan shook his head. "I have never thought it important to visit this place. It certainly was not within my scope of interests."

McCoy rolled his eyes, and looked away. Was he expecting any less? Not damn likely.

They came to a halt in front of the bouncer, and Kirk just grinned, waving their tickets in front of him. "We were invited," Kirk said, in a voice meant to irritate, and McCoy speculated Kirk had tried to get in before – with little success. "Courtesy of Rebecca Sanders."

That got McCoy's attention. He strode over to Kirk as the bouncer stepped aside, granting them entrance to the club. "You know Becky Sanders?"

Kirk nodded. "Sure I do. She's my cousin. How d'you know her?"

McCoy stared at Kirk. "She's related to you? Now how the hell is one of the finest trauma surgeons in Starfleet related to a cheating bum like you?"

Kirk glared, and opened his mouth to answer back, but they entered the main part of the club then, and his words were drowned out by loud music and laughter. Something with a Latin beat and flavor to it was playing, and there were several dancers on the floor, most of them moving with an easy, practiced grace. McCoy then remembered that likely, most of them were from the Dance Troupe, and thus, accomplished dancers themselves.

"Jim!"

McCoy turned upon hearing the voice, and watched as a young woman with dark brown hair all but threw herself at Kirk, who caught her in a tight hug.

"Hey Becky," Kirk said as he let her go. "Great party you have going here."

She laughed in response, and turned to McCoy. In turn, he responded with a smile and a wave. "Hi there Becky."

"Leonard!"

McCoy couldn't help but blush as Rebecca closed in and gave him a hug as if they'd known each other all their lives. Most of the males in Medical knew about Rebecca Sanders, and they – except those emotionless Vulcans, of course – had a bit of a crush on her. He was no exception to that rule. Carefully, he moved away from her, smiling down at her as best as he could while trying to hide the fact that he was not impervious to her charms. "Yeah, uh… Thanks for the welcome."

"Glad you could make it, though. It's nice to see you out of the labs." She turned, and then grinned at Sulu before hugging him too. "And you, I'm really happy to see. Sorry if I missed out on your grandmother's birthday; I was so caught up in exams."

Sulu laughed, and shook his head before kissing her gently on the cheek. "It's fine, it's fine. Grandma knows why you couldn't come."

"So how do you know him?" McCoy asked then.

Rebecca shrugged. "His parents are my godparents. We're related that way on my paternal grandmother's side."

McCoy raised an eyebrow, though he smiled. It was like that, too, in the South, where godparents were considered practically aunts and uncles in their own right – part of the family, and treated like blood, even if they weren't, really.

"Anyway," Kirk cut in then, taking Rebecca by the shoulders and turning her slightly, "Becky, I'd like to introduce Pavel Chekov. He's the guy who pulled me and Sulu out of midair and saved our skins before we crashed onto the Vulcan surface. Chekov, this is my cousin, Rebecca Sanders."

Rebecca smiled and held her hand out for Chekov to shake, and McCoy did not miss the way Chekov's cheeks flamed red – not that it wasn't too hard to see, since Chekov was so pale. "Nice to meet you, Chekov. And thank you for saving Jim and Hikaru's lives."

"Ah… That is to say… I mean… You're very welcome," Chekov replied as took Rebecca's hand, and McCoy nearly laughed at the ensign's discomfort, indicated by just how thick his Russian accent had gotten.

He noticed Kirk glance at him then, and judging from the twinkle in his friend's eye, it was clear to McCoy that he would start mercilessly teasing Chekov about this. And then Kirk turned Rebecca to Spock. "Becky, I'm sure you know Commander Spock. Spock, this is my cousin, Rebecca Sanders."

This time the mischievous twinkle that had been in Kirk's eye appeared in Rebecca's, and it became clear to McCoy that they were, indeed, related. She nodded at Spock in greeting. "Yes, I know of Commander Spock. It is a pleasure to meet you."

"And it is an honor to meet you, Ms. Sanders," Spock replied cordially, bowing his head as well.

"Please, just call me Rebecca. People are going to be calling me Ms. Sanders or Doctor Sanders soon enough, and I'd like to keep hearing my first name as much as I can before that happens."

She stepped back, and gestured them down the steps towards the lower floor. "Come on. Uhura," and here she shot a wicked little smile in Spock's direction, "saved us a table. Oh, and don't worry about the drinks; it's open bar tonight."

"Now that is what I wanted to hear," McCoy muttered so that only Kirk would hear, to which Kirk laughed, and fell in step beside his cousin, slinging an arm around her shoulder as if they were the oldest of friends.

"It would appear that Jim and…Rebecca are very close."

McCoy glanced at Spock, and nodded. "Yeah, well, guess they grew up together. Seems like the only explanation."

Indeed, McCoy's assumption was correct: they did indeed grow up together as children, which was something Rebecca enlightened them all on once they arrived at their table and the drinks started flowing.

"Aunt Winona was always off-planet, since she was a Starfleet officer herself," Rebecca explained as another round of drinks was brought to their table. "Before she married again, my mother Jacqueline took care of Jim too, so we spent most of our childhood together."

"Explains why you're really close," Uhura remarked as she took a sip from her Slusho. "It must have been fun growing up like that."

"Are you kidding?" Kirk shook his head. "Our childhood together was horrible. We spent most of it beating the crap out of one another. Aunt Jackie used to call us 'tumbleweeds' because we were always rolling around on the ground while trying to throw punches at each other."

McCoy stared at Kirk, then looked at Rebecca, who had a small, amused smile on her face. "It's true though," she said, taking McCoy's disbelief for what it was. "When people ask why I chose to specialize in trauma surgery, I say it's because of my very traumatic childhood with Jim." She gestured to her forehead. "I've got a scar here from one incident. He whacked me with a baseball bat."

"It slipped out of my hands, Becky! I swear!"

"You're just saying that. You did it deliberately to get back at me for loosening your bike chain the week before."

"Aha! So you admit you did it!"

"So you admit you really threw the bat at me and it didn't just slip from your hands?"

"What the- That was an accident!"

But by now Rebecca was ignoring him and was looking across the table at Uhura, who was grinning broadly. "See what I had to put up with growing up?" She sighed in exaggerated resignation. "But what can I do? I'm related to the guy."

Kirk rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure, now she complains… What she's forgotten to mention is that she gave as good as she got in those fights. I learned how to fight dirty from her."

Rebecca turned to Kirk, her smile deceptively sweet. "Jimmy, if you don't stop yapping right now, I'm going to remind you how mean my right hook is."

Kirk gave her a smile just as saccharine. "I'd just love to see you try."

"Now I see it," McCoy drawled, making everyone at their table look at him. "I thought it was just the eyes that made them similar, but I'm starting to see they're both stubborn pig-heads."

The reaction from both Kirk and Rebecca was immediate: they both narrowed their eyes at him, and an angry "Shut up!" popped out from both their mouths.

The entire group stared at them for a moment in silence. And then Spock uttered a quiet "Fascinating…" from where he sat beside Uhura, and the entire group burst out into laughter, Kirk and Rebecca doing the same.

"I'll drink to that," Rebecca said, genially lifting her glass in McCoy's direction and tipping it slightly in a half-toast before bringing it to her mouth and taking a sip. "It must come from the Kirk side of the family. My dad's always been the calmer and more focused one between my parents."

"Speaking of your dad," McCoy began as he leaned forward, "talk's going around that he's in line for the Nobel. His research is proving far more helpful to a whole lot more species than he expected."

Rebecca smiled brilliantly then. "I hope he is. We don't talk about it much, so we won't jinx it, but I really, really hope he is in line for the Nobel. He keeps saying that it's no big deal, since he's just doing what he loves most, but I bet he'd like to win it."

"If I may inquire, what sort of research is your father conducting?" Spock asked, suddenly interested now that the conversation had turned away from the personal and swung towards the more scientific.

"My father's an expert in tropical diseases," Rebecca replied. "Pathology, diagnosis, treatment… You name it, he's looked into it. It used to be he was focused just on the diseases that occurred here on Earth, but with so many more people flying out into space and catching tropical diseases from other planets, he's expanded his research into that, too."

"What she isn't saying," McCoy cut in, "is that her father's a damned genius who's controlled more outbreaks of more tropical diseases than anyone has ever managed before. And he handles very hot stuff: he's controlled outbreaks of Ebola-type viruses while ensuring minimal loss of life."

Spock tilted his head slightly. "Indeed? That is very interesting. As I understand it, Ebola caused massive loss of life in Africa when it first appeared, and continues to do so now that it has spread out of the continent. Controlling it must be difficult, considering it is an RNA virus and hence constantly mutating." (2)

McCoy glanced at Rebecca, expecting her to answer, but she remained silent, staring at the bottom of her now-empty glass.

"Okay, enough with all this science stuff," Kirk said, pouring more Saurian brandy into McCoy's glass from a bottle – McCoy wasn't sure where he'd gotten it. "The three of you can talk all about diseases some other time. We're supposed to be relaxing, not thinking about viruses. And besides," here he grinned, stood up, and grabbed Rebecca by the hand, "this is a party! We ought to be dancing!"

McCoy was a psychologist in his own way. He couldn't have been in a position to become a senior medical officer, eligible for promotion to CMO, if he didn't have some expertise on the subject. It was clear now that Kirk was so close to Rebecca he was practically attuned to her moods, and this talk about her father had obviously troubled her. When he remembered that Rebecca also studied tropical diseases, and that her father was indeed one of the greatest experts in the same field, he realized she had an enormous shadow to get out of. She might have loved her father, but it was his reputation that troubled her sometimes.

But apparently, Kirk didn't need too much understanding in psychology to know that talking about Rebecca's father's accomplishments was not that comfortable a topic, and that the best way to distract her was to get her to do something she loved: in this case, dancing.

It worked, too. The Latin theme was still going in the music, and the two cousins were currently dancing a salsa together, with Rebecca's face lit up with a smile brighter than a Christmas tree, her laughter rippling over to their table.

For a brief moment, McCoy wondered what it would be like to be in Kirk's position: knowing all her secrets, being able to comfort her when she was sad by knowing exactly the right thing to do, the right thing to say.

And just as quickly, he knew it'd never happen.

"Chekov, pass me the brandy," he muttered under his breath, and as soon as the ensign had put the bottle in his hand, he started pouring himself more and more drinks, trying to drown out the reality of his current situation.

NOTES:

1 – This is a reference to the episode "Amok Time" from the original series.

2 – This is my understanding of what could happen to the Ebola family of viruses, the way things stand with it now. Such viral mutation has happened before, and it could easily happen again in the future.