New Friends, Old Enmity
By Djinn
Part 1.
Chapel was in her office, reading comments in the Stanford science forum on the paper she'd published, derived from all the research she'd done for Number One's court case. Spock was also credited as an author and she smiled seeing their names together.
She was surprised Roger still let her have access to the forum. He knew she was posting; he'd even commented on some of her posts. Totally professional. Supportive as ever.
He was making this so easy. She hadn't expected that and felt bad about thinking he'd be anything but nice.
Then again, him holding on too loosely had always been the problem, not possessiveness. So maybe her leaving played right into his plans. Opened up a spot in his bed for new blood.
"Ensign Chapel?" A crewman holding a small package stood at her door.
She was having so much trouble getting used to being called that. "Here."
"Care package, maybe?" His grin was sweet, too sweet, so she gave him her most professional smile back.
"Are you going to give it to me?"
"Oh, yes, sorry." He handed it over but didn't seem in a hurry to leave. "There's a party, lower decks, if you want to come with me...?"
"I'm with someone."
"Oh. Too bad." He shrugged and walked out.
M'Benga came in and laughed. "Another admirer?"
"Yeah, I have to beat 'em off with a stick." She held up the package. "Delivery from"—she glanced at the label—"from Stanford."
"You want privacy?"
"No, it's okay." She opened the package and found a small box. When she opened it, there was a pair of earrings, sterling. Exquisitely carved corn cobs.
M'Benga frowned slightly. "I was not aware you were such a fan of corn."
"I'm not. I pretty much hate it. Other than in cornbread or tortillas."
"That's what I thought. And chips for my salsa."
"Yes, that too." He made the best salsa. "We need to throw a party soon so you can make more."
"Yes, we do." He smiled in the way that said he wasn't going to forget her birthday which was in, oh, three days.
She held up the earrings. "Once upon a time I knew someone who was very closed off when it came to speaking about emotions. One day we were at a conference in Virginia, and we rented a flitter and just roamed the area. We parked near a just harvested corn field and he opened the windows and took my hand and told me to close my eyes and listen. The sound of the wind rustling through the dried corn stalks was the most amazing thing I'd ever heard."
She slipped the earrings on. "After that, while we were still flitting around, he told me things, about his childhood, about how he felt growing up, how alone. Things that explained a lot. I'd never felt closer to him."
"And do you need to call this person and thank them for this lovely gift?"
She met his eyes and saw deep understanding there. "I do."
"I will close the door when I leave."
As soon as he did, she keyed in the code for Roger. He answered right away. His office was dark with just the desk lamp on and the glow from his terminal. "Happy early birthday." He smiled. "And you're wearing them."
"I shouldn't. You shouldn't be giving me birthday gifts." But they felt right in her ears.
"I actually bought them before you left. Saw them and thought they'd be perfect. I know I should probably have resisted the urge to send them to you and just given them to someone else, but, well, corn earrings are a bit of a niche gift." He laughed gently. "Please say you'll keep them."
"I'll keep them. I may have to explain them."
"How will you explain them?" His voice was tender, the tone she loved.
"That they remind me of a special time."
"Yes. They do. I won't lie, Christine. I miss you." He held up a hand quickly. "Don't say it back. I know you're in love. And with a good man."
"Thank you."
"A good man who put in a good word for me. I'm headed for Vulcan soon on sabbatical to do research into this syndrome he told us about. Should be new and exciting."
At least he wouldn't be picking up impressionable young grad students there. She bit back a sigh that threatened to be bitter. "I'm glad. If anyone can help them, it'll be you."
"Your faith in me will buttress me in times of doubt."
"Bullshit. You have no times of doubt. You're the most egotistical man I know." She was laughing as she said it and was glad to see he laughed too.
"Guilty as charged. But it is still nice to know that you believe in me."
"I'll always believe in you, Roger. You were the best mentor I could have ever asked for. The best friend as I found my footing." The best partner she'd ever known up to then—other than the screwing other people part.
"Well, I have to go. I know you'll probably put those in a drawer and forget them as soon as we hang up, but I really do appreciate you wearing them for this call. The time we spent that day—I don't open up to just anyone."
"I know. And I love them. They may go in a drawer, but so do all my earrings. They'll be in the rotation." Shit, were they even regulation? She'd need to look that up. Oh well, she could wear them when she was off duty if they weren't.
He looked away, to something off screen. "Yes, I'm coming, Brownie." He looked back at the screen. "I really have to go. Trying to wrap things up before I head off to Vulcan."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome. And your paper was amazing. I'm jealous it didn't come out from the lab instead of Starfleet."
"It would have required me to jump through a lot less hoops if it had come out from Stanford." She rolled her eyes at bureaucracy, and he laughed and then signed off.
She played with the earrings for a moment, letting them hit her neck as she moved her head. Then she looked up the regs. Yep, no dangling earrings. Made sense from a safety standpoint.
She took them off and put them back in the box.
So sweet of him to think of her. Even if he shouldn't have.
##
Spock moved one of his knights and heard La'an breathe out in what he had come to learn was exasperation. He assessed his play and realized it was both ill conceived and doomed to put him in check in two moves. "I apologize. I am distracted. May we talk instead of play?"
"Honestly, we usually don't talk. It'll be a little weird."
"I agree." He found they often agreed on such things. "But I need your advice."
She pushed the chess board to the side and said, "Ask away."
"Christine's birthday is in three days. I know it is important to humans. Vulcans do not celebrate such things. Christine has indicated it will be fine if I do not commemorate the date of her birth."
"Pfff. Christine is lying to you."
"Indeed?" She had seemed sincere when she told him this but had been across the room, as if she did not want him touching her—to find out the truth perhaps? The more he'd thought about it, the more he worried he might be misunderstanding her meaning. Which was why he was so distracted.
"Don't be daft, Spock. You're dating a vital, beautiful woman that other people will be giving gifts to. Possibly very nice gifts. Do you really want to be the sole holdout? It may be okay the first time, or even the second, but it's going to start to grate."
"But it is not my way." And as far as he knew his father did not give his mother birthday gifts. Michael used to tell him sometimes she missed birthdays. "Should I change my natural behavior this way for her?"
"Look, sleeping in a room as hot as yours is not her natural behavior. Or mine." Not that she was sleeping in it, but she was in there a lot just hanging out. And it was sweltering at times.
"I have lowered the temperature. For her."
"But not as much as she might like and probably more than you like. Because you're both compromising. I'm not criticizing. It's what people do—but no one is every really happy with a compromise. And that's what she's trying to do here, give you an out, and then she'll celebrate with others, but it will not be good for you in the long run." She took a long pull from her beer. "I suppose you want help picking something out?"
He enjoyed how she seemed able to predict where he would take the conversation next. "I would like a...sanity check on an idea."
"You know your whole thing with her started with you asking for relationship advice. This better not be leading to romance for us."
He simply glared at her. It appeared to have little effect. So he tried to look helpless—or as helpless as a Vulcan could. "I would be indebted to you."
"Fine."
"I do have an idea. I do not know if it will be suitable."
"Roses? Chocolates? Something else so mainstream it's boring?" She made a face that told him exactly what she thought of such things.
"I had initially considered peonies. She loves them."
"Save them for Valentine's Day when everyone is ordering roses. You'll get big points."
"I must also observe that day?" He felt a pang of dismay. At least his mother insisted on Christmas and planned time on Earth to facilitate her need for holiday cheer. He knew how that holiday worked—even his father was expected to give gifts to all in the family.
"And there's nurse appreciation day." She was clearly trying not to laugh.
"I do not believe that."
"There actually is. But you don't have to observe it with a present—maybe just breakfast in bed." She smiled. "Although I might buy her something really nice. Get a leg up on our competition over her."
"Of course." He found it best to ignore her when she spoke of this alleged competition. Would he allow someone he considered himself to be in competition with to kiss his woman? "Do you wish to hear my idea?"
"Honestly, no, but I've agreed to help so I guess I have to."
He understood the sentiment. He often did not wish to do the things that were required of him as a friend or colleague. The small talk and niceties and other such things. "Do you remember I walked out of Hemmer's memorial?"
"Yes."
"I was..." How much of this did he wish to share with her? How much did he trust her? He studied her and saw nothing but curiosity. "I was overcome. Emotionally. From the mission, from what I allowed myself to feel and do to help defeat the Gorn, from the losses. I was struggling."
"I didn't notice."
"No one did. Except Christine. She knew something was wrong. She followed me. I was in the corridor. I slammed my fist into a panel in rage."
"I knew I heard something being hit." She gave him a surprisingly supportive smile. "I saw that panel. Hell of a punch."
It had taken them a week to replace the panel. He had to be reminded of it as he walked by, but a few days in, the reminder became less unpleasant, more about what had happened after hitting the panel than during. More about Christine. "I saved it. When they replaced it, I asked for it."
"As a reminder not to lose your temper?"
"As a reminder of when things changed for Christine and me."
Her expression changed, became very soft. "That's actually so sweet."
"You and I both think that. But we are very much alike. And she does not have the same temperament we do."
"You're right. Is there more to it than just a beat-up panel?"
"I framed it. She had expressed an admiration for hammered copper by a particular artist so I commissioned a frame in that material."
"That's also very sweet. And I'm sure people not like us will also think so."
"Excellent. I was unsure when I was going to give it to her. I planned it not as a gift as such, but something for our shared space. Something that was not hers or mine, but ours."
"Say it just like that. Only make sure she knows it's for her birthday, not just some general housewarming thing." She studied him. "There's a romantic buried under all that logic."
"I think not." He tried to make his features as stern as possible. "May I ask what you are getting her?"
"A pair of sunglasses she saw someone wearing on that last spaceport we stopped at. I actually tracked the woman through the station and asked her where she got them. She seemed unnerved by my intensity."
"You were hunting. As you learned from the Gorn."
"Well, that's terrifying. Anyway, even knowing what brand they were, I had to search for them. They were not easy to find."
"She will truly appreciate the effort."
"And she can wear them in Carmel. I heard your parents have a house there."
"Yes, we will be visiting them while the ship is in for refits." Refits that were a result of the Enterprise's two interactions with the Gorn. Refits such as updated containment, a variety of shield upgrades and other suggestions La'an and he had worked on together.
They had worked together extremely well once she stopped baiting him and he stopped making his explanations deliberately over complicated.
"Sounds fun." She suddenly seemed to be looking for something to do. She began to pull the chess board back in place, but he stopped her.
"Do you have someplace to go during leave?"
"Yeah, of course."
He imagined she might have spent leave with Una, if Una were not very busy with the captain. "Carmel is quite pleasant."
"I'm sure it is. Thanks for the update."
He realized he had not included the part relevant to her in his statement. A Vulcan would have understood that if such a statement was issued, there must be a way it connected to them. "La'an, I am inviting you to come with us."
"Shouldn't you ask Christine?"
"As she is the one who persists in kissing you, I find it unlikely she will object." Although a good deal of the time it was La'an kissing Christine. At least at the start.
"Spock, I don't want to intrude on your family time."
He waited until she finally stopped looking everywhere but at him to say, very softly, "I have not spoken to my father, other than when absolutely necessary, for years. I have no idea how he has taken the news of the dissolution of my engagement, or the idea I am now romantically involved with a human."
"He married a human."
"This logic may be lost on him. We do not—we do not..." How to explain what he and his father did not do? Connect. Care about each other. Respect each other?
"Hey." Her hand was on his, which he had not realized he was using to clench the side of the table. "So, you need a buffer? Someone besides your new human girlfriend who might also be the subject of his ire?"
"Precisely."
"So I could be useful, not just in the way."
"You will not be in the way." He briefly laid his other hand over hers, to show his appreciation for her comprehension, and then eased his hands away. "It is a large house. There are rooms upon rooms. It is often used for offsite events for visiting Vulcans. We may not even see my parents if we are very successful."
"Fine, you sold me. But make sure Christine is okay with this."
"La'an, while I may not understand the depth of her feeling for you or vice versa, I do know she cares about you. She would not want you to be alone when you could be with us. And you have proven that if we need to escape quickly, you can lead us as we fight our way out."
She laughed but then made a perplexed face. "Was that a joke?"
"Sadly, yes. I have been with humans far too long."
"I'll say." She gestured toward the board. "Now can we resume? And can you possibly play like the Spock I know, not some lovesick puppy?"
"Yes. And I appreciate your help."
"What are rivals for?" She grinned at him. "Or are we friends?"
"To be honest, I am unsure."
"Me, too. That rarely happens."
"For me either."
"Just one more thing we agree on, Spock."
##
Ortegas sat at the bar, watching La'an and Spock apparently holding hands. "The crew will have a field day with this," she muttered.
"I'm so confused by that," the captain said as he and Una slid into stools beside her—shit, where did they come from? Were they trying to be super stealthy? Or had she just had too much to drink to hear them? "Care to explain it to us, Erica? I thought he was with Christine."
"He is. La'an's just his side piece." She couldn't keep a straight face and began to laugh. "The looks on your faces is really fun." She shrugged. "The three of them are friends."
Una stared down at the booth Spock and La'an always used when it was free—and if they showed up and it wasn't free, whoever was in it almost always moved. They never seemed to notice. "Three? I mean I knew Chapel was close with both her and Spock, but didn't realize La'an and Spock were—she really didn't like him."
"Pretty sure she still doesn't," Ortegas said with a laugh. "They don't tend to smile at each other."
"Well, neither of them really do at any time." Pike looked at her almost empty drink and when the bartender came down their way, ordered her a refill along with their drinks. "Big plans for leave?"
"Family time. My cousin's quinceañera. She's one of my favorite cousins so I'm actually excited that I'll be home for it. So, thank you, sir, for this leave."
"Thank the Gorn." His face clouded as it always did when he talked about them.
"Is it bad and wrong to say I'm glad I wasn't there?"
"No, it's smart." He looked over at Una. "Super strength might have come in handy, though."
"You had Spock. He's as strong as I am. Or so Chapel's testimony in court said."
Jesus, after all Christine did for her, couldn't Number One call her by her first name? Then again, no way Ortegas was going to say that. Number One was terrifying when she was disapproving.
"You guys going somewhere fun."
"Chris's house in Montana. Snow. Horseback riding. More snow. More horseback riding."
"Is horseback riding a wacky way of saying sex?" Okay, she really did need to take an antitox.
But Number One actually laughed. "No, he has horses."
"Also it's summer," Pike said. "So no snow."
"I was looking forward to the break from the horses." She shook her head and made a face. "Horses don't like me."
"There's fly fishing."
Ortegas saw Number One make another face at that thought and said, "You sure you don't want to come to my cousin's quinceañera?"
"It's sounding better and better." But the look she gave the captain was smoldering. Ortegas would bet money they might not ever leave the house to get to the horses. Then again the captain did tend to get all misty eyed when he talked about riding. Number One was probably screwed.
She saw Christine walk in, and she hurried by La'an and Spock as if they had communicable diseases.
"She not talking to them?" Pike asked.
"Oh, no, she just doesn't want to be trapped watching them play chess all night." She patted the stool next to her. "Pull up a chair, Ensign."
"You love to pull rank." But Christine sat next to her and waved the bartender off.
"You're not drinking?"
"No, I've got to get up early and do this panel thing about the paper I wrote." Her tone sounded "been there done that" but the expression on her face showed she was excited.
Having listened to the dry runs more times than she could count, Erica was glad someone else was going to hear her talk about it. "Congratulations." She noticed Christine was wearing new earrings. "Are those corn cobs?"
"Yep."
There was a long moment of silence from the three of them, and Ortegas thought they were all trying to figure out the significance.
Pike was the first one to bite. "Don't you hate corn? I made corn chowder and you passed."
"You keep track?" Christine looked a little horrified.
"Oh, honey," Number One said, "He keeps track of everything."
"I didn't mean to offend, sir. I like it in cornbread—but ground up; don't put corn kernels in the cornbread. And tortillas and chips."
"Then why did you buy earrings that depict a food you don't like?" Number One sounded sincerely confused.
"They were a gift."
"From someone who loves corn?" Pike asked.
"Can we just focus on the silver and craftsmanship and not on the corn part?" Christine sounded cranky; Ortegas bet those earrings were not going to be worn again. At least not around anyone who knew how much she hated corn.
Which was anyone who'd eaten with her when corn was on the menu.
"They're very pretty," Number One said, and Ortegas knew she was trying to sound supportive instead of condescending.
Unfortunately, she totally failed.
"So," Ortegas said, trying to steer them to safer ground. "La'an and Spock were holding hands earlier. Several of the gossip vine's biggest grapes were in visual range. Might want to counsel them on resisting." She was grinning.
"I wonder if something's wrong." Christine immediately got up and went to their booth.
"That didn't seem like jealousy." Pike took a long sip of his whiskey. "I'm even more confused."
Christine leaned in and hugged La'an and then came back to her stool. "La'an's coming to Spock's parents with us."
They all just stared at her.
"What?" She rolled her eyes. "It's going to be weird because they're kind of estranged."
"And adding a third person is going to negate that weirdness so much." Ortegas laughed as she imagined.
"She'll be in her own room."
"Knowing Vulcans, so will you," Number One said.
"You think so? He didn't say that. I want to room with her if I can't sleep with him."
"Honey, you aren't making this better." Ortegas put her hands on either side of Christine's face and said, "Repeat after me: Everything I say makes it sound like I'm involved with both of them."
"Repeat after me: Fu—" She only stopped talking because Ortegas put her hand over her mouth.
"We're going to go play pool now. The table just opened up. Have a nice evening, sirs."
Christine pulled away as soon as they were out of earshot of the bar. "What the hell, Er?"
"You don't tell a superior officer to fuck off right in front of the two ranking officers on the ship."
"I'm not on duty."
"Nevertheless."
"You're being serious right now? What else can't I do?"
"Hey, take it down a notch. I'm not saying you're not doing it right. I just didn't want you to make a bad impression."
"So, you all can grill me on my personal relationships, but I can't tell you to fuck off when you do?"
"We were joking."
"Were you? Were they? I can't even tell anymore. Who cares if I swear? Everyone swears. Is this some of the newbie hazing crap you did to Uhura because I didn't study for years to be harassed and bullied."
"Christine, calm down." She tried to read her friend's face. "Is this about the earrings? I'm sorry we teased you."
"They're special."
"Okay. I'm sorry."
Christine looked around for a moment like she was trying to make sure she knew where the exit was. "Don't you ever feel like you just want to get off this thing?"
This thing? Did she mean the ship? The ship that Erica lovingly flew? "Uh, no. It's why I'm in Starfleet." She eased Christine into a nearby booth and slid in next to her. "Everyone goes a little stir crazy at first."
"But that's the thing. I didn't feel that way. Not until I suddenly became an ensign." She looked away. "What if this isn't what I want to do?"
"Oh my God, Nyota found her path so now you have to take her place with career misgivings?"
"I'm not Nyota."
"Yeah, I've noticed. She actually spends more time with me than you do these days. And she's on Earth."
Christine looked more hurt than pissed. "Let me out."
"I'm sorry." But was she? What the hell was wrong with Christine? Nothing had changed except... "The earrings are new, aren't they?"
"Yeah. From someone special."
No way. Not that dick of a professor who found his bedmates from the eager young faces looking back at him in class? "A birthday gift?"
It took her a long time to nod.
"Made you homesick for Stanford, huh?"
It took her an even longer time to nod again.
"And him?"
"I just...the gift brought back memories. Good ones."
"As opposed to the ones where you found other people in your bed?" She took Christine's hand gently in hers. "Spock's never going to do that to you. Unless you want him to with La'an."
She seemed to take a deep breath and let it out. "You're right. I'm sorry. This is...it's a big change. I guess I'm not dealing with it as well as I thought."
"You're also commitment phobic and living with a Vulcan. I imagine change has been happening even in basic living."
She nodded.
"Then relax. It's just growing pains. They'll pass." She eased out of the booth and let Christine get up. "And I'm sorry about teasing you about the earrings. I won't again."
"But others will. Guess these are going in the drawer, after all." She seemed to stand straighter and shake the experience off, but her expression didn't lighten. "I've got to go study my material. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Christine about what I said..."
"No, you were right. I do spend more time with Spock than you now."
And La'an, Ortegas wanted to say but managed not to. She'd done enough damage tonight.
"Hug?" Christine asked, as if Ortegas wouldn't want to give her one.
She pulled her in for a tight, if quick, squeeze. "Knock 'em dead, okay?"
Christine nodded and then left. Really fast.
She sat back down in the booth and tried not to feel like a complete jerk. She'd just been being herself. Nothing had changed, had it?
##
T'Pring keyed in a comm code she had to look up, and it went to a recording. "You've reached Christine Chapel..."
"Please call me at your earliest convenience." Would she know who it was. Did Starfleet communication devices show the name of the caller? "This is T'Pring." She hung up.
She had to give her credit. She called right back. "What can I do for you?"
"So formal for one who stole my mate."
Christine did not react at all. Most impressive. She might be Vulcan. "It's been a shitty day, T'Pring. What do you want?"
"I need information on Angel. Transporter scans. Photos taken during the incident of them and their associates. Any background information gleaned that you can share."
"Ask the Vulcan authorities for that. Oh wait, you'd have to admit you're hiding Spock's brother in plain sight."
"It is not plain sight. We are on a lunar outpost in another system."
"Same difference." Christine sounded angry.
T'Pring did not care. "You know how much trouble I could make for Spock and his family."
"I also know you're hurting and would regret that."
"Do not assume you understand me simply because we interacted on a superficial level. You do not know me, Christine." She tried to load threat under the logic she was projecting.
Christine met her eyes, her own very angry. "Right back at you, sister." When T'Pring didn't respond, the fight seemed to go out of her. "Fine, I'll send you what I have access to, but I'm not stealing anything I don't have a right to see and share. And I'm logging that I sent you the info—I really don't need my Starfleet career to begin with a security violation."
"So you have joined Starfleet?"
"Do you care? No, you damn well don't. Why do you even need it? You making a dart board with Angel's face on it?"
"If I were to make such a juvenile thing, it would have your face on it, Christine." She waited for the hit to show on her rival's face but it did not. She must indeed be having a very bad day. "Clearly Angel was in contact with Sybok. I need to know how, but to do that I need their information and image."
"That makes sense." She looked down. "Okay, sounds good."
"What is wrong with you?"
Christine looked up angrily. "Like you care."
"You are right. I do not. But you have Spock. Can you not talk to him? Or perhaps you two are not prospering as you hoped."
"Go to hell, T'Pring. I'll send you the info when I have the time." The line went dead.
She had clearly hit a nerve.
Excellent.
Except it did not matter. Spock would do everything in his power to make this woman happy. He had chosen her and rejected a life on Vulcan.
Let them deal with their problems; T'Pring had other things to do. Such as showing this information, once Christine actually sent it, to the rather unsavory detective she had hired. Discreet inquiries showed him to be both effective and from a species that considered it dishonorable to work for two people at once. She could not rule out the possibility that Angel had eyes everywhere but could make sure the person she was hiring to capture Angel and hold them in a place of T'Pring's choosing would be working only for her.
She could not go after Sybok directly. But she could do something to stop information getting in to him. And have leverage if she decided he could be of use in setting the havoc he had created into order.
It would have been more satisfying to poison his food and watch him die slowly in agony, but she was not a savage and the poison would no doubt be traced to her. She did not doubt he had some provisions in place in case he met with any accidents now that she knew his treachery.
She had debated contacting Spock, telling him why what had transpired occurred. But she did not think he was ready to hear that yet.
A text message appeared on her terminal. It was from Stonn. "Dinner?"
"I am busy tonight with work." It was not a lie. If Christine ever sent the info, she would indeed be busy.
She was managing her relationship with Stonn carefully. It was unfair to him, to keep him dangling this way, but she had to.
If there was a way to get Spock back, to undo what Sybok had done, she would do it.
She loved him. She always had and she always would. And deep down, once he got over being lured by white-blond hair and human effervescence, he would realize he loved her too.
##
Pike heard his chime go off and said, "Come." He was expecting Christine and it was her.
Only not the Christine he'd gotten used to. The take-no-prisoners, cocky-as-shit woman he'd wanted on his ship. She'd been so confident until he slapped a rank on her.
He rose and motioned her to the couch and took the comfy chair. He had coffee laid out and croissants.
She laughed as she took in the spread. "You're the best captain I will ever have."
"Food wise, that's for sure." He liked to think he'd be the best other ways too, but he'd learned humility in his trip to the future. Sometimes his way wasn't the best. Even if it was often the kindest.
He waited to talk until she fixed her coffee—lightener and an ungodly amount of sugar. No wonder she was so high energy.
He sipped his as she ignored the croissants. Normally she ate without any self-consciousness. "How are you settling in?"
"Well, I've been here a while. Sir." Her voice held a prickliness he didn't remember.
"Okay, I'm going to say two things. The first is that I'm sorry about yesterday in the lounge. Your relationships are your business unless they hurt someone or buck regs. And obviously I am in no position to get on anyone about relationship in their chain of command. Which you're not doing. Whatever relationships you have." Well, this was going great.
But she actually laughed, thank God. "I'm sorry I swore."
"You can swear. Shit, fuck, shit. There—I've set precedent. I'd prefer you didn't do it while working but we were off duty, and I'm not sure why Erica thought she needed to intervene there."
"Oh."
"Except that maybe you were extra frustrated, and I don't think it was about that. Which leads me to point two. I need you to settle the hell down."
"Sir?"
"You're overcompensating. You're second-guessing. You're acting like I gave you a personality change, not a commission."
She just stared down into her coffee.
"Speak your mind, Chapel." She'd never needed an invitation for that before.
"I'm doing everything wrong, sir." But she finally reached for the croissant and he knew he was getting through to her.
He helped himself to one too and said, "How so?"
"I was in the corridors and this crewman—who I knew was new to the service because I'd just checked her in a few days earlier—saluted me and I didn't think I was supposed to salute back, but she looked so earnest and scared that I did it. And then once she'd passed, this officer—I have no idea who because he just pushed past me as he said it—made a crack about how if we saluted onboard, we'd all have a bad case of tennis elbow. Which by the way it would not cause." She met his eyes. "I was just trying to be kind."
"And that other guy wasn't, clearly." He sighed. "Okay that's one incident. And for the record, I don't actually think it's a bad thing to be kind. But maybe next time take the crewman aside and gently explain she doesn't have to salute while on board. What else isn't working?"
"There's a class for civilian transfer and crewman who've made field promotions to officer. The instructor is constantly on my case."
He knew the instructor. Not the brightest guy. Connected to an admiral so no one could get rid of him—that this kind of shit still happened bugged the hell out of Pike. But the class wasn't that long and most people in that class had either been in Starfleet long enough to know how most of it worked or were extremely fast studies who would pick it up with or without a stupid "Officers for Dummies" class.
"Give me some examples." He made his voice as gentle as possible so she'd know he wasn't doubting her word.
"He was having us come up with scenarios for this first-contact case study. It was one of those 'work in teams until I make you pick a spokesperson to list out the same things every other team will come up with.'"
"I hate those."
"Me too. But you know, I'm taking this seriously. So I sat with my team, and we came up with the normal shit, and then two of us started bouncing ideas off each other, and we ended up with a way longer list than any other team. But the other people on our team were getting super uncomfortable with the way the instructor kept coming over and telling us to keep it in the realm of possibility. So they edited down the list to include just a few of our ideas." She was a little flushed and he knew it was in anger, not embarrassment. "How were we wrong? We weren't blue-skying the assignment. We could make everything we put on that list work. And so could everyone else if they'd thought about it for a second."
"I'm going to stop you right there. And not because you're wrong. Because what you just said is crucial. They could think about it for a second, or five or thirty or five hundred, but they aren't going to catch up with the two of you. Not unless you wait." He leaned toward her. "It's hell being the smartest people—or even person—in the room, Christine. I've seen you work and I know you make connections and see possibilities so much faster than others. And if you were working alone or only with people whose brain works like yours does, it'd be fine. But if you keep running, your colleagues on board will never catch up. Slow down and let them make the journey with you or at least catch up on their own or they'll never, ever follow you. And while they're catching up, you can spin scenarios in your head and have time to rule out all the shitty ones by the time they're ready."
"How long do I wait for them to catch up? To be fair, sir, I'm used to being in a situation where everyone is going the same speed."
"I don't believe that. Even in as rarified air as that Stanford lab, there were the stars and the not-so-glistening ones. And I bet everyone had their niche, that they knew better than anyone. It's that way on the ship, too. This class is bringing people together in a way that doesn't let you see why they're on this ship in the first place—how truly good they are."
She nodded grudgingly as she picked up her coffee and finished it.
He filled it up for her again and watched her go through her "sugar with some coffee" routine. "So far I've heard nothing from you about how your actual job has changed since you converted. Has it?"
"No, it's the same. It's really good. Like always."
"Exactly. This class is designed for one thing: to teach you how to be Starfleet in ten easy steps." He held up a hand when she objected. "I get it. You don't want that. You want to be the best at everything. You want to do things right and know you're doing them right."
"I do, sir. I hate feeling this way. So off balance. If I do something wrong, I want it to be on purpose."
He laughed and said, "I do not doubt that, Christine."
He bought time by taking a bite from his croissant—the food wasn't just a friendly touch, it could also be strategic. He didn't think Una had made any special attempt to get to know Christine despite how hard she'd worked for her trial. She'd eased up on the snotty comments she'd occasionally dropped in private before she was arrested. But he'd expected them to find more common ground.
Well, now they could. "I want you to stay in the class. Learn what you can there. But I'm assigning you a mentor. One-on-one work. Get you ship-shape and Bristol fashion in no time. There is no one on Enterprise who knows more about being an officer than Lieutenant Commander Chin-Riley."
He expected a look of surprise, maybe even dismay, but instead she seemed excited.
"So, you like that idea?"
"Yes. She won't let me get away with anything. And she's smart—she'll keep up."
"She definitely will. But I wouldn't assume you're going to be the one in the lead when you're working with her. Maybe you'll be the one needing to run faster?"
She grinned at him. "It will be interesting to see, won't it? Thank you, sir." Finally, he saw a spark of the woman who'd so impressed him. And the woman he really, really liked as she held up the croissant and said, "These are so damn good. Thank you. For them and the talk. And I'm sorry. I should have come to you. But I didn't think it would look good—so soon after converting."
"You always can. But now you've got Una too. And La'an also understands how things work. As does Spock. Use them." He left out Ortegas because he thought she was too close to give completely objective advice on this, which was ironic given Chapel's relationship with the other two. Erica tended to want to protect—to mother-hen—her friends. She'd shown that last night, trying to save Chapel when she hadn't needed saving.
It wasn't a failing. She'd be the best friend Chapel could want. And she'd mentored many officers to great success. But friends weren't always the best one to coach friends.
##
M'Benga sat in his office, finalizing Christine's birthday party order for tomorrow. It wasn't a surprise. Christine knew when her birthday was and he'd never understood the idea that somehow this was a surprise to anyone. He remembered everyone's birthday, and if they cared about such things—and he found that out on their entrance interview—he threw them the kind of party they wanted.
He'd worked once in a unit where the parties had been haphazard. People with more friends having better odds of someone remembering. It had hurt those who'd been left out. Once he'd become a leader, he'd made it a point that everyone would get their day celebrated if they wanted, but there would be no additional private parties held in sickbay. On personal time, fine. While working, no.
So far it had worked for him. He sent the order on to catering and checked the progress of the salsas he was making. All her favorites.
"Hey, Doc, you better not be out-cooking me," he heard from the door.
"Come in, Chris." He held up his hand as he approached. "But do not offer suggestions on how to make my masterpieces better. You know salsa is my thing."
"I do know that. I use your recipes, generally." He leaned in conspiratorially. "Can I have some?"
"No, it is for Christine. Who is so much more relaxed suddenly at the thought of working with Una. She was excited enough to tell me." He sighed. "I have been worried about her. But was afraid to talk to her. Medical is so...apart from the rest of the ship."
"And she wants to be a part of." He grinned. "I get it, Joseph. And somehow I bet she won't always be medical. Her curiosity may lead her on some interesting paths."
"Agreed." He turned away from the salsa. "What can I do for you?"
"Come to Montana."
He tried to determine if this was some Pike euphemism or if he meant it literally. "What is in Montana?"
"The house I bought last year on a whim, my horses, an amazing river for fly fishing."
"Oh, the last is so tempting. But Chris, you and Una are new. Wouldn't you like to be alone?"
"We won't be. Leanna's coming too. She asked if you'd be there."
"Oh?"
"Yep. And I don't think it was because she wanted to brief you on how the new meds are working. If you're got something else going with someone else for leave, I get it. But I like the idea of her spending time with someone who understands her status."
M'Benga could imagine he would. Chris had found that with Una. He was a loving and generous man. He'd want the same thing for his cousin.
And M'Benga had no plans—even if he was not sure he and Leanna would ever be more than friends, this sounded like a nice way to spend his first leave without Rukiya. "So the fishing is good?"
"The fishing is world famous. Come on, Joseph. Say yes."
"Yes." He suddenly felt settled. He had been unsure where to go. He knew he would probably have chosen somewhere he could fish, but he'd been feeling...bereft at the idea of going it alone. Now, now his heart felt full. "Yes, this sounds fun."
"Yes, it does. Bring your appetite."
"I always do, Chris."
##
Una cuddled into Chris, enjoying his darkened quarters, the fire crackling, the dinner he'd made leaving her pleasantly drowsy.
She'd been on edge for so long, on guard for too long. So sure that the end of the road for her career was around every corner. It had been an exhausting way to live. And a lonely one.
She was happy to hear Joseph would be joining them. It had been her idea to invite Leanna. She would have anyway, but finding out she also had a time limit—and one Una had a lot more ease understanding—made her want to include her even more.
She'd been sure once Starfleet caught up with her, life would be over. Forever. Even if her incarceration wasn't long, she'd be drummed out of the fleet.
But Leanna had saved her.
As had a lot of others, including her new mentee. Which she still wasn't one hundred percent on board with. "Why me for Chapel, Chris? Why not La'an? They're already close."
"Yeah, but how close?" He started to laugh. "You need to get to know her in a way that isn't about you protecting Spock and La'an. She's a fun person."
"She's cocky as hell."
He eased away enough to study her. "That bugs you more than anything, doesn't it. How open she is. How free to be herself. To do what she wants. Be with one person, two possibly? To convert to Starfleet with a snap of my fingers without paying her dues at the academy."
God, he was making her sound neurotic—and petty. But yeah, she really did resent those things. "I'll get over it."
"I don't want you to get over it. I want you to work through it." He kissed her gently. "She won't be the last person to get an easy ride. Or to be so genuinely herself when you couldn't be."
"It's ridiculous, isn't it? In some ways, I still feel locked up."
"Well, don't. You're free. You're loved. You have friends. And you've never had an issue speaking your mind, so I don't know why you'd envy Chapel that." He was laughing at her so she mock punched him. "Have you considered counseling?" His voice was free of judgment. "La'an seems to be prospering in it."
"I know. And yeah, I probably should consider it. But Chris, I don't trust that what I say—if it has to do with anything Illyrian—will stay with a counselor. Won't be used against me someday in the future when another panel convenes and aren't so pleasantly disposed toward me."
"I understand that fear." He pulled her close. "I wish I could tell you I won't let anything happen to you. But clearly I can't because it did and I could do nothing."
"You didn't do nothing. Stop it. You brought in Leanna. You found all those character witnesses for me. Chapel and Spock. La'an. That was you."
"You know me. I'm great at assembling the crowd for a meal. But the meal goes its own way once I've cooked it and gotten everyone seated. Your service record, Una. Your actions and commendations and your character. They also were witnesses. Good ones." He brushed her hair off her face. "Great ones. My favorite ones."
"You're tired of talking about my neuroses, aren't you?"
"No, I just want to kiss you more."
"Fine." She pretended it was putting her out to let him do it and he laughed.
But he also pulled out all the stops. The man could kiss with the best of them.
"I'm too full to do more. I need to cut back on the cooking."
"I'm full too. Your food's too good not to enjoy fully. I dreamed about it when I was being held. As far as sex, there's always morning."
"There is always morning, isn't there." He poured them out more scotch. They'd taken to bringing the bottle to the couch with them, so they wouldn't have to get up to refill their glasses. "Morning."
He got very quiet.
"Stop it. Stop counting how many mornings in ten years." She glared at him.
"Sorry. Force of habit."
##
Chapel walked back to her quarters, curious as to why Spock wasn't just meeting her in the mess. He'd specifically asked her not to make plans for that evening and to come to their quarters when she was off shift.
Their quarters. He called his quarters that, and she loved it.
When she opened the door, a lovely aroma wafted toward her. Food was laid out and it looked like some of her favorites. As she moved into the room, she saw a big rectangular item wrapped in gift paper leaning against her favorite reading chair. "Aww, Spock. I said you didn't have to."
"I am aware of that. I chose to." He took her hand and led her into the room, picking up the package and giving it to her. "Happy birthday. I know I am a day early. But there is a reason."
She opened the package, ripping into it from the middle to Spock's obvious consternation, so the first thing she saw was the dented wall panel. Then as she kept pulling paper off, she saw the exquisite copper frame around it. "Spock, is this the artist I showed you?"
"Yes, I contacted her. She agreed to do this frame for me." He touched the dent. "This is the beginning of us as a couple. And for our room it is something that is not mine nor yours, but ours." He ran his finger along the exquisitely hammered copper. "And this is something you love."
He took her hand and squeezed gently. "No one else, except La'an—who I must admit gave me some help with wrapping and other things—understands the significance of this. But we do. I envision an entire wall of such items. Or a shelving unit—not everything may be suitable for hanging."
She was so touched. "You see a future for us? With a shelving unit full of nostalgia?"
"I do. Is that a future you also see?"
She didn't answer quickly, but before she could spit out something trite, he nodded as if this had been the expected response.
"The reason I am doing this now and not tomorrow on your actual birthday is that there is a second part of your present, and I did not wish us to be interrupted by well-wishers."
"A second part?" She looked around for the item she must have missed.
"It is here, Christine." He gently placed his fingers in the meld position. "I imagine you have wondered why we have not shared a meld yet?"
"I have." She'd wondered a lot the last few days. Wondered if he was going to be like Roger—requiring a long flitter ride in a region not their own with dead corn rustling to share the deepest parts of himself.
"It is because I did not wish to rush into this level of intimacy. I wanted us to be sure we were ready to share."
"I understand."
"I know you have resisted commitment in the past. This may not be a present you are ready for. Or may ever be ready for. I will not judge you for that. If you do not wish to meld, ease away from my fingers."
She pushed hard into them and was rewarded with an actual smile. Then he began, murmuring, "Relax, it will not hurt in any way," and she felt the sensation of him within her, of her being within him too.
La'an had shared how specific the meld had been when they'd needed to do it for the Gorn. This was the opposite. Spock was not narrowing his focus, he was sharing this warm, loving feeling with every part of her.
As she relaxed into the meld, he said—or maybe spoke in her mind—"The dented panel was the beginning of our love affair, but not of my interest." And he began to show her their interactions from his point of view. The first time, when she'd had to change his DNA, then the shot when she'd first teased him. All the interactions, colored by his regard.
His affection.
His amusement.
Eventually his lust.
And then his love.
She tried to share the same things with him. How he'd been just someone she'd flirted with, like everyone else. How he'd been her friend. How she hadn't wanted to come between him and T'Pring. How it eventually became inevitable.
How the kiss wasn't a farce for her.
"Nor for me."
Then they just sank into the connection, the extraordinary intimacy of sharing minds. He showed her how he felt about his family: his love for a sister and brother he so rarely spoke of, the prominence of his mother in his memories, his estrangement from his father—an estrangement that began well before they stopped talking. She tried to share her background, her disappointments, how she'd been hurt, why she'd been afraid to commit.
A few minutes—or maybe hours later—he said, "This can be used during sex to great effect. Or we can eat."
"The food's in stasis, right?"
"It is." He was already rising, pulling her up, kissing her as they went, bumping into furniture as they tried to navigate their room as one unit rather than two.
Finally they fell onto the bed. She saw herself through his eyes as he undressed her, heard him sigh in pleasure at how much she enjoyed his body as she returned the favor.
Each touch echoed back, her feelings, his sensations, everything all at once.
It was overwhelming.
It was amazing.
It was love.
And it was something she had never, ever had. Not with Roger. Not with the others before and after him.
"I want only you," she heard Spock say. "I love only you."
They drifted, the meld slowly burning out, until they fell asleep.
End Part 1
