Chapter 3: Journey to Babel
From the Diary of Christine Chapel
Dear Spock,
I like to address these letters as if we were close friends or perhaps even lovers opposed to the reality of the situation, me a nurse on a starship suffering from the unrequited love for you, one of my superiors.
When Starfleet ordered Captain Kirk to retrieve the ambassadors from multiple planets to the convention, I didn't expect to learn as much about you as I did. But, boy, did I absorb an earful!
There always has been speculation around the ship about your parents, my dear, if you knew it or not. Most guessed that your family was prominent in Vulcan, but no one guessed that Sarek, the ambassador to the Federation from the planet, was your father until word traveled around to the crew that your parents were aboard the ship.
Sarek is precisely how I imagined him: serene, logical, reflective, impenetrable in focus, and reticent yet authoritative when he enters a room. He commands the attention of the people in the room with his unwaveringly calm voice and swagger. You too have all of these traits, plus you possess his arid sense of humor and handsomeness. As a result, I instantly felt a connection with him. In comparison, Mrs. Sarek was the quintessential mother from Earth, warm, caring, extremely proud of her offspring, and a stunning woman. Her beauty and charm reminded me of my own mother.
Although I was supervising you and your father's recovery after the surgery, I made some observations about your parents. First, your mother doted on you two, and I thought her concern for her family's safety during the procedure was touching. Oddly, your father didn't want to worry your mother about the other health concerns that he endured previously, and I thought that showed love towards her. Maybe the ambassador shows his love privately?
Curiously, I watched as your parents shared a moment touching hands, specifically the index and middle fingers to each other. There seemed to be magic between them, a mutual adoration, respect, and understanding, and at that time, I realized that they loved each other despite their differences. When the ambassador said that he married your mother because it was the "logical" thing to do, did you realize that he meant that he loved her?
I realize that you don't comprehend the feeling of human love, probably just like your father, but observing your parents taught me that your species could love. So now I wonder why anyone would suspect anything different? Why would I expect that you could love me that way?
Right, because you are half-human because of your mother.
I can hear your deep soothing voice penetrating my mind with the words, "Christine, don't be illogical " to my satirical comment, and it made me happy. Sometimes it's the little things that improve your day.
Are you aware that you rarely show your Mother's qualities? Is that on purpose? On occasion, you may smile or enter in witty banter with McCoy, but I had never seen you show love. So when I found out about Pon Farr by overhearing a conversation between the doctor and our captain, I felt astonished at the fact that you were betrothed to another. I wondered what relations between you and your bond-mate would have been like until I made myself sick with the thoughts that you had sexual congress with anyone else. Yes, I was jealous, my dear Spock, immensely so to my profound humiliation. Mainly because I never knew exactly what happened down on Vulcan until I heard your friends, the captain, and the doctor joke about how you narrowly escaped marriage.
The physical and chemical changes that occur in Vulcans every seven years puzzle me. Does that mean that you don't desire sexual relations except then?
I guess that was the reason you propositioned me the day before by suggesting that "it was illogical to ignore our natures." Honestly, I felt like that comment was too good to be true and that something was indeed wrong with you. The first precise indication of your distress was when you slung the bowl of soup against the wall forcibly, scaring me, and the second was your admission that you dreamt of me while I watched you sleep peacefully. Lord, how I wanted that to be true, though!
From the little I know about Vulcan culture, the teaching of Surak forbids man to focus on pleasure or pleasurable activities in favor of intellectualism and logic. But, Spock, would you choose the quiet, dispassionate love of your father or the outwardly animated love of your mother if you permit yourself the opportunity? I wonder. After all, Leonardo da Vinci said, "life without love oddly is no life at all." My heart agonizes at the thought that you may never experience love whether it is with me or not, my dear Spock, although I would prefer it to be with me.