Never Promised You a Rose Garden 10/? (ATOS-PG)
by Mistress V
Despite having just taken a shower, Christine felt the need to scrub away the last traces of her alternate persona so took another. She dried her hair carefully and finger waved it with some gel for the hairstyle she used to wear when she was with Roger. The coif would quite different from the professional 'do her current job called for.
As she gave herself a final comb-through, Christine wondered how difficult it would be to channel her younger, more naive self in a few hours. That woman was galaxies away from who she was now---especially given the night's events. Seeing Roger, and she was certain it *was* him, hadn't conjured up yearning or love, just a knot of nerves in the pit of her stomach. Fear of what he was involved in, certainly. But an even greater trepidation that she'd spent the past years waiting for a man she no longer loved.
It was no use trying to pretend. This folly about joining Starfleet to search for him had been just that, a folly. Her sensibility instructing her emotion that she needed to find Roger and either marry him---or bury him. But what was the foundation for that? It had been eight long years since she'd first decided Roger was the one she wanted. Two of those years were spent falling in love with him as they worked together. But it was more a relationship of stolen opportunity rather than shared special times. Their work was most important, that was obvious. Romance was not part of any equation.
Christine frowned at her reflection. The silly young girl she'd been then! Content with fantasizing how it would be one day, when Roger came back to her from the stars. Of *course* once they were married it would be perfect. He'd settle down on Terra with their research and they'd sail into the sea of matrimony together. Never mind the infrequent messages Roger sent during their first year apart, before he disappeared. He'd been enthusing about how this was the first important step of many through the quadrant. Those steps would be part of their matrimonial journey together, right? What else could it be?
Wrong. The ring on her finger, pretty though it was, was nothing more than an attempt to placate. For the first year, it did its job. But after the expedition was declared lost, she used it to conjure up memories of the prefect man she'd longed for all through their relationship. The one that would be hers when the next project finally ended.
Face it. The man she loved back then was not the one she saw now. Even if everything worked out, it turned out this was just some silly misunderstanding, Christine wondered if Roger would want her back---or if she would want him. If that happened, how to re-build something that had a shaky foundation to begin with? Odysseus had a lot to answer for. She was no long-suffering Penelope anymore. What made her especially angry was all the time she'd wasted loving her fantasy of the ideal Roger. She'd made him into something larger than life when he was an ordinary man---and with feet of clay, possibly. Nothing could bring back those lost years. Maybe it was time to move on.
She liked her post on the ship. Part of her shared what Roger had loved about the study of strange new and old worlds far beyond the skies of home. The research she'd been doing was in another direction from that they'd shared, and she liked the unknown aspect and the challenge. Maybe this was something to pursue. Mr. Spock mentioned on several occasions that Starfleet might be interested in sponsoring her work on a more permanent basis, and the thought appealed.
Oh dear. Spock. The kiss bothered her even now. Not that it happened, but her reaction to it. Her lips and cheeks still burned from the memory. It was the first real kiss she'd shared with anyone other than Roger and the intensity took her by surprise. That and something else. Deep down, she'd wanted him to kiss her like that. It was dangerous and erotic, and she savored it. Oh, she'd always thought the first officer to be handsome, though distant and reserved as befitted his office and background. Their professional relationship was mutually respectful and comfortable. Nothing else. And besides, he was someone else's property, if you believed ship's gossip.
Speculation about Vulcan sexual practices was also the topic of idle chatter, even from her superior. So little was known about the race and now most of its populace were wiped off the map. Apart from Spock himself, the pairing of a Vulcan and an offworlder was virtually unknown yet now it looked like that anomaly might become the norm, if only out of logical necessity. Something she'd read about in a genetics seminar, when they'd discussed Archer and T'Pol's startling futuristic discovery. Though still shrouded in conjecture, the idea that a future where humans and offworlders mated and procreated with many different species over the generations was talked about enthusiastically.
Naturally, the gossip on who Spock would marry was rife. And when. He was an extremely good-looking man, that was a given. But the brooding Vulcan silence about him, his pursuit of logic over all other things, made him unattainable--and all the more desirable. Most all of the ship's female population would have done the horizontal mambo with the first officer in a heartbeat, if only the opportunity presented herself.
No doubt about. Uhura was lucky. But all this thinking was making Christine's already confused brain hurt even more. It was almost time to be getting up, this silly line of thought wasn't doing her any good.
She climbed into bed and let sleep take her off to a universe where the man you loved didn't go away and abandon the one he left behind.
**********
Spock finished his meditation but was still troubled.
Troubled at the idea of an android population being used for some nefarious purpose. That defied logic. But also because there was still no message from Nyota. Of course he'd explained to her that, logically, there would be little time for such communiqués. Perhaps she was simply heeding that.
What also troubled him is that he did not mind the silence. But even more than that, the memory of the kiss he'd shared with his co worker was burned into his brain, despite his best effort to eradicate it.
He'd enjoyed kissing Christine Chapel. More than any other woman he'd ever kissed. (Of course, there were not THAT many, but still).
And he wanted to kiss her again.
Fin of 10, more fun and frolics to follow.