A/N: This part rated M for possible you-know-what. Entirely S/Ch interaction. If you don't like that kind of stuff, then don't read it. It really has nothing to do with the story, just a little aftermath. The plot bunny looked at me with those big, sad eyes and begged me to write this.
Epilogue
It had been a week since their return from nineteenth century California Territory. Christine was sitting alone in the officer's mess, eating a late lunch, when she heard a familiar voice. "May I join you?"
She smiled up at him and pushed out the chair beside her with her foot. "Sure, Spock. It's been a while since we shared a meal."
"Indeed. As I recall, we shared more than meals during our time on Earth." She giggled, her ocean-blue eyes crinkling.
They ate in silence for a time. Spock blew out a barely perceptible breath before speaking again. "My bed has been cold."
A myriad of emotions ran through Christine's head, not the least of which was shock. She glanced sideways at her companion to ascertain his seriousness. He was looking straight at her, one eyebrow slightly raised, as if in challenge. "Mine, too," she said quietly.
More silence followed, then he spoke again. "We could remedy that situation."
Christine decided to take the bull by the horns. "What time shall I be at your quarters tonight?"
"21:30 hours would be acceptable." Not even a hint of humor appeared in his dark eyes.
"Shall I bring an extra quilt?"
"That will not be necessary."
The comm panel beeped. "Doctor Chapel, report to Sickbay. Doctor Chapel, please report to Sickbay immediately."
She downed the rest of her tea and stood to go. "Duty calls, Spock. I'll see you at 21:30."
"Christine," he said as she picked up her tray, "do not wear the flannel nightgown."
"Then what shall I wear?"
"You may wear whatever you like." This time there was something in his eyes, but it wasn't humor.
Sorry, the rest is up to your imagination!
