AN 1: Updates! So there will be updates monthly for the next few months as I have several chapters written. I'm trying to keep myself on a writing schedule so I'm always a month or so ahead ... we'll see how that works out.
AN 2: I need prompts! Please share your ideas! Thank you for your reviews! I'm always so happy when I see favorites pop into my inbox!
Harriet and Spock were once more at their table in Mrs. Thurston's shop. Harriet was drinking an experimental mochaccino. It was experimental only in the sense that she'd never made one before but woke up with a strange need to have one today. So she dabbled. It worked out rather well if she said so herself.
Spock, as ever, was enjoying one of her herbal, non-caffeinated teas. Apparently, he found them most relaxing, not that he'd said as much. Really, at this point he didn't have to. Harriet needed to think on that bit some more but now was probably not the time.
Spock put down his cup. "I have taken the liberty of completing your paper work."
Harriet paused in her contemplations. 'Completing my paperwork?' "I was unaware that there were any deficiencies."
Spock raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, as if she should know full well what he was getting at. "You did not provide a residential address. For the time being, you will use mine. Your mail, however, will still be forwarded to your PADD."
Harriet sat quietly, shocked. She blinked several times before putting down her mochaccino. What could she say to that? After a while, she settled for a simple, "thank you."
Silence.
Spock was waiting for something.
'Fine,' she sighed internally. Then, "I am still not ready to put my life into the hands of the government."
"They will not harm you. Starfleet has agreed to allow you entrance with the stipulation that upon completion of your chosen course of study, you will work with Starfleet to improve relations with yourself and your people."
Harriet gave in to a very unlady like snort. 'What people?' And wasn't that sad to think about?
(and was she ever going to get an answer to her question?)
The public departure terminal to the transporter bay directly connected to the Spacedock was surprisingly empty. The crowd of crew and family she was expecting was largely absent. Then again, it was near four in the morning.
She quietly walked alongside Spock, her long, sleeveless sweater dress quietly flapping around her, arms resting at her sides. The part of her that still remembered her original home noted that it wasn't very Snape like but, then again, she wasn't really trying. Instead, the knee length tunic she wore under her sweater and her knee high dragon hide boots (which once again looked like leather to the naked human eye) were meant to be unobtrusive. While she didn't blend in per se, she didn't particularly stick out either, and that was the point.
As they walked, she quietly took a sip from her durable, might-as-well-be-strapped-to-her-hip-like-a-flask-but-her-satchel-would-get-in-the-way coffee cup, seeking comfort. His visit had been too short. Intellectually, she knew he would be back soon and would actually be staying for quite some time if he was granted the position of Academy professor, but still …
'Perhaps I should look into becoming a Starfleet civilian.' Spock had o so conveniently mentioned it was an option. Did she want to commit to something like that, to a life (yes?)? Did she want to risk being separated from the only thing her magic was practically screaming at her to call home? How was Spock home? Did she have a home anymore?
Harriet replaced her flask (coffee cup!), then absently scratched the mark of the deathly hallows on her wrist as they walked.
All too soon, they reached the security checkpoint and it was time to part.
"Live long and prosper."
"May your journey be free of incident."
And just like that, he was gone again. Harriet mentally deflated.
Harriet's assessments for her qualified entrance into the Academy were hell. Besides the fact they leaned heavily in favor of medical science, which, by the way, she was not a fan of, they needlessly tested her in other subjects as well. Like math, which again wasn't as big an issue as long as it was related to medicine and doses and calculating risks but calculus and linear math and quantum mechanics for the sake of it? NO. Just NO.
'Clearly they're trying to fill the information gap.' They probably were. It's not like she provided them with much to begin with. Now, however, now they had a good grasp of what they thought was the breadth of her intelligence.
She saw no reason to inform them otherwise.
All that mattered was that she got into her desired practicals. After all, she wasn't aiming to become a Starfleet graduate and she doubted they would let her if she tried. Of course, she could just over power their systems and either convince them she wasn't actually there or plant the idea that she had always been there and that there was no oddity surrounding her selective class schedule. That, however, in an age overwhelmed by complicated and redundant technologies and security systems meant a considerable amount of work.
[getting lazy are we?]
But, did walking in the open truly serve her purposes? Was engaging with Starfleet the optimal option? She could just stay at the shop. It was tempting but would she be living? When had she stopped caring about the distinction?
Anyway, she was thankful Death's lending policy favored her passing and a part of her was beginning to accept the idea that They might be trying to tell her something.
The hairs on the back of Harriet's neck twitched. 'My Spidey senses are ting~ling.' Really, the wards were just announcing a visitor but esh, same difference.
Sure enough, about two seconds later the bell on the door rang as a customer entered the shop – in fact, it had to be one of her customers given the warning and, given the day and time, she had a good idea of who it was.
She turned around. Sure enough, he was back. Like clockwork, he came every Wednesday for his weekly 'pick me up' at two in the afternoon sharp. Harriet resisted the urge to snort. It was like an addiction and she told him so.
"It works." And that was almost enough for him. "Why sell it at a coffee shop?"
"Why wouldn't I sell it at a coffee shop?" As if she'd work anywhere else!
McCoy was clearly unimpressed.
Harriet wiped the steamer down, then took a seat on the stool behind the counter, pointedly looking down at her latte, then looked up with a raised eyebrow, channeling her inner Spock.
Finally, McCoy put two and two together and gave a short laugh. "And you say I have a problem."
Harriet switched to channeling her inner moue, not denying his accusation.
Harriet was finally getting around to thinking on one of the many thoughts she had put aside for later, that one about how she could read Spock so well in particular. At this point she'd known Spock for just shy of a year, had interacted with him for roughly only eight months of that year, and had seen him even less. How could she read him so well?
Sure, they'd sent enough video letters and had enough conversations to know roughly how the other thought and went about their day but that wasn't enough to really guess his moods was it? To be able to read a Vulcan's near expressionless face? To read the emotions that roiled beneath the calm (that most Vulcan's actually didn't deny having when asked directly but most other races presumed were non-existent)?
Harriet was brought back to that first time they had met, to the way her magic had washed over him while not affecting him in the slightest bit. She thought back to that first time her magic had seemed to welcome him and realized she was well and truly 'in deep.'
Unless, all Vulcans were immune? (An out!)[do you really want it?]
She'd have to test the theory somehow. She was known, to some extent, to the Vulcan embassy staff from spending time there with Amanda. Perhaps, she could conduct her experiment there? What should she try?
With a start, she realized something else.
'What are you trying to tell me Death?'
Because it wasn't her magic necessarily that was homing in on Spock but that part of her that was both hers and not hers and it hadn't rang true with the other Vulcans she had encountered previously.
'Am I supposed to fix something? Will he rise to be the next Dark Lord? Is he a catalyst? What more DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!'
For the first time, in decades, Harriet broke down and began to sob.
A quiet voice that rarely spoke, and that Harriet almost didn't hear, answered like a breeze calmly whispering through on a clear day: "Nothing."
Harriet, eyes red, looked up, confused. Death ALWAYS wanted something.
"Perhaps it is time for you to want something."
Harriet could only blink and reach for a box of conjured tissues. Stunned and confused did not begin to express what she was feeling.
"I will be starting classes at the Academy soon."
McCoy nearly gave himself whiplash, he looked up so fast. "What?"
"The upcoming term. A practical in xenobiology and a course on interstellar disease."
"Why the hell would you do that?" McCoy was clearly not impressed, which seemed to be his default expression.
Harriet laughed, heliopath earrings swinging gently, catching the light and flaring, briefly, like small suns. "I'm a physician, if I stop learning, I stop being effective."
"But why Starfleet? It's not like they deal in your so called 'alternative medicine.'"
"Perhaps not but I want to learn, to expand, and Starfleet has the resources for me to do that."
McCoy made a derisive sound. "The Academy is full of nothing but children and dreams."
Harriet smiled. She loved his snark.
It was time for her weekly check on Spock's apartment. [getting a bit domestic are we?] Technically, she didn't need to. Apparently, Spock had a cleaning service that came once a week to keep the place clear of dust. Really, that was the only thing they needed to do. The place was immaculate and she was near certain it wasn't a result of the stellar efforts of the cleaning ladies.
'Or do they use droids?' she wondered. She would have to look into that later. For now, she would settle for wondering if she needed to get herself a cleanroom outfit.
Did she mention the place was immaculate?
'I almost feel unclean, this place is so tidy.'
After a moment of standing in the customary shock and slight disdain she always felt when she stopped by his apartment, she was momentarily tempted to move something just to see if he noticed.
With a slight laugh, Harriet smiled. 'He probably would.'
She slid out of her shoes at the door and glanced around the front room. For now, she was officially only intruding to ceremonially wipe down his meditation space and lamp, as Amanda had suggested.
[definitely domestic]
She also placed fresh flowers in front of the window in his kitchen. Sure, Spock wasn't likely to see any value gained from dying flowers, nor was he likely to see them while he was in space, but she put them there nonetheless. Harriet thought they added a nice splotch of disorderly color to the otherwise orderly apartment.
She left the stems on the counter for good measure. 'It's not like he'll notice and the cleaning service will just pick them up anyway.' She smiled, pleased. For now, it was her little act of disorderly conduct, her little way of introducing Spock's space to herself [and we're not going to question that sentiment?].
Finished, she walked to the entrance, replaced her shoes, and locked up behind herself.
"So you're threatening to make me disappear?"
"Of course not. I'm suggesting that you consider all that Starfleet has to offer –"
"or else."
"Not 'or else.'"
"Riight, but you're not offering true legalization either. So either I consider 'the possibilities of Starfleet' or get shipped off planet or detained against my will. And since the odds are you'd rather I didn't become an unknown quantity for your potential enemies, you're more likely to do the latter given I refuse to do the first. Ergo, you're threatening me with the unknown factor of an unspoken 'or else.' Problem being I don't respond well to threats and you know you couldn't hold me if you tried. Likewise, the only leverage you have to possibly corner me with will see the logic of my natural decision to not be controlled against my will. So what are you actually suggesting, sir?"
The Admiral gritted his teeth and locked eyes with Harriet, silently weighing his next words.
"If I might interject Admiral?"
"By all means Captain Daniels."
Daniels' face turned on the screen and focused on Harriet. "Do you place value in Spock's personal opinion Ms. Luna?"
Harriet stared at Captain Daniels without emotion. "Of everything that was just said, that's what you're going with?" Sighing heavily, she crossed her arms and leaned further back in her chair. 'Let the emotion drain. Calm yourself. Give them nothing.' With a cleared mind, she raised an eyebrow in mock imitation of Spock and firmly stated, "I do."
The subtle mocking nature of the eyebrow raise was not wholly lost to the Captain. "Then I would ask you to reconsider your options."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "I have never considered working with Starfleet, or any government agency, a viable option, largely for this very reason, as I am sure Spock has mentioned."
"Yes, Spock has made me aware of your sentiments. However, I am asking you, in effect, to consider the scientific and humanitarian nature of Starfleet's mission and to consider if Spock is the type to commit himself to such a mission if he didn't firmly believe in it."
"To what end?" Fine, she would play his game. Daniels tilted his head to the left ever so slightly. "Why would I separate two aspects of the same entity?" she clarified.
"For the purpose of indulging your curiosity, to challenge your skills and knowledge, to find a purpose, beyond surviving solely for the sake of surviving, while simultaneously resolving your issue of legal documentation. With Starfleet's backing, you would have access to the latest medical research and some of the foremost minds in the medical and natural science fields and, with the Admiralty's blessing, a spot as a civilian consultant amongst the crew of Spock's next posting."
Harriet considered this. "Why 'with the Admiralty's backing' and not 'as a member of Starfleet'." Semantics were never trivial where government agencies were concerned.
Instead of answering, the Captain turned back to the Admiral. "Admiral, I would like to suggest Harriet be considered for the crew be Spock's next assignment, the Enterprise, under Captain Pike, when she's ready for her maiden voyage." The Admiral raised an incredulous eyebrow of his own. "There are precedents, sir, for civilians serving alongside Starfleet personnel in an official capacity. Her unique abilities and interest in xenobiology and medicine would be a great asset to the ship's mission and both Starfleet and Ms. Luna would benefit from the arrangement." To Harriet, this was a polite way of saying 'we can watch her without alienating her.' "Furthermore, Spock's presence aboard the ship could possibly ease some of her fear."
'Fear?! As if the Master of Death was afraid of something so incapable of even comprehending the breadth of who she was!' Harriet quietly stewed but not so deeply as to upset her calm control over her magic. As sensitive as it was to her will, it wouldn't due to provide more reasons for Starfleet to take notice of her. O, she could obliviate the whole thing from the Admiral's memory but Daniel's? Over this distance? She wasn't in the mood or position to really find out.
Slowing her thoughts once more, she considered the options they had presented and the fail safes she could personally implement herself. In all honesty, the scenario presented by Daniels was one of the best possible outcomes.
"I'll agree to consider the possibilities of the conditions just presented, nothing more. If the conditions change, so will my willingness to reconsider."
The Admiral's eyes sharpened. "Is that a threat Ms. Luna?"
Harriet seemed to age before them. "It's the truth," she stated without heat or malice. "I may care to hear Spock's opinion but I'm not beyond breaking ties with him."
"Then why haven't you?" asked Daniels.
Harriet tilted her head to the side and it almost seemed as if her eyes themselves smiled at them. "Maaa, I'm not so sure myself." And she wasn't but keeping how greatly that disturbed her from them was a top priority.
Both men considered her quietly for a few minutes, thinking. The Admiral whose name she refused to acknowledge finally nodded his head. "I'll take your position and the Captain's suggestions to the Board."
AN 3: On the last name Luna: Recall that in (Partial) Truths and Awkward Turtles, Part I, Harriet showed Spock her fabricated identity which stated her name was Harriet Luna. She will eventually tell Spock what her original name was but for now, her last name is Luna. In my head cannon, rotating identities and focusing on filling those roles helps keep Harriet 'in the game' so to speak. If she was always Harriet Potter, she would be less able to distinguish between realities if she didn't change it up somehow, especially if we're talking an unspecified number of realities.
AN 4: You can expect the timeline to get fuzzier as we head into the Academy arc.
Prompt: The spaces in between
