And we're back to awkward encounters. And maybe Spock has a second idea! Have fun reading!

Just as Christine was hoping the fourth day of their endeavour would be free of awkward encounters, the doors to the turbolift opened and revealed Spock and the Captain.

"Oh, I can take the next one," she murmured.

Spock had averted his eyes, the Captain throwing him a quizzical look.

"Nonsense," he said, "come on in."

Christine joined them in the cab, strategically positioning herself to Kirk's left. She could feel Spock's embarrassment radiating from the other side. Embarrassment because of seeing her so abruptly? No, there was more to it than that.

"Is everything alright?" Kirk asked.

"Yes," Christine and Spock answered in unison.

Christine met Spock's raised eyebrow over Kirk's head and shrugged listlessly. While it was true that nothing was wrong, these encounters felt more and more awkward, as all the while during their attempt to keep a distance, something between them insisted otherwise.

Other than the lift incident, the day turned out to be fairly unspectacular. They did not see each other again afterwards, and Christine counted this day as a success. Only when she was lying in bed that night did she realise that not only did she believe that Spock thought the same, but she also knew it.

On the fifth day, Christine awoke with a tingling in her head. Then, after some minutes of perplexed confusion, she noticed that the tingling seemed strangely familiar, both in its presence and its attributes. It had already been there before today. And it felt like a deep voice, harp strings, incense, desert wind, and nimble fingers. Spock. She felt Spock.

Later that day, she made her way to the bridge to collect a signature for her proposition of an updated duty roster for the medical staff.

When she stepped out of the lift cabin, she saw Spock, covering for Kirk in the centre seat. Of course, he was.

Spock took the PADD, scrolling quickly through the list. It was well balanced so that every member of her team would have the chance to go on shore leave without leaving behind an empty position. He was not surprised, however. Christine had always been well-organised and tidy.

He handed the roster back after signing it.

"Why thank you!" she exclaimed and grinned widely at him.

Then she met his eyes. He hadn't said anything.

He raised one eyebrow at her and nodded, confirming her suspicion of what had just happened. She had perceived his thoughts so intuitively that she had not realised it until she had already answered.

Chekov turned around and threw her a curious glance. Her answer had seemed a little too emphatic for just a signature.

Christine blushed, quickly took the data PADD from Spock, and left the bridge.

On the sixth day, they met in the hallway on their way to work.

"Have you noticed something?" he asked.

"Not in the direction we had planned. I mean, you saw what happened yesterday. All through the week, my awareness of you has been growing stronger, it's as if there's an invisible line binding us together."

"There is," Spock said, with the smallest of sighs. "That is the bond making itself known."

He had made a persistent effort to block the connection. It resisted any kind of sabotage he had dared trying, however, and kept exerting its pull on him, towards her.

His mediation later that day yielded the same results. While he had wondered a week ago how strong this bond even was, now he had no doubt. Although he had never had a marriage bond, he knew the intensity of other connections, the one with Jim for instance. That one was surprisingly telepathic at times already.

For a moment, Spock perceived some spark of anger. It had nothing to do with a telepathic connection, it was anger at himself. Frustration that he could have been surprised at the independent forming of a telepathic bond when he had already managed to form another, likewise strong connection to another human.

Human. Was it his human half that was facilitating this? Had its sensitive and vulnerable human nature made use of Vulcan telepathic powers, to bind him to people around him? It would be a very human thing when one thought of their dependence on companionship.

But he was Vulcan. His telepathic boundaries had been schooled for decades; he had made double the effort of his full-Vulcan classmates. This couldn't be a failure of telepathic boundaries. But then again, he had failed the kolinahr, the Vulcan ritual wherein all his emotions would have been purged.

He shook off these thoughts of failings. Just as telepathy, the kolinahr, logic, were pillars of Vulcan belief and identity, so was the bond. He might not yet understand its intricacies and exact reasons for manifesting itself, but if their plan worked, he would not have to. It would be easier for both of them if they did away with the attachment imposed upon them.

The nagging feeling that he was missing something important returned and he finished his meditation unsuccessfully.

At the same time, Christine sat in her cabin, idly sorting through reports, then her clothing. True to Spock's compliment, her cabin was tidy, but she was frantically wishing for something to do. Some weeks ago, she would have probably spent the evening with Spock. They would have eaten together, discussed their scientific interests and the newest rumours circulating Enterprise.

She missed him.

She slumped down on her bed and sighed heavily.

There was no denying that she cared deeply for him. But it was not the infatuation of the five-year mission, or some fantasies, that were tugging at her now. It was far worse: he was her friend. She wouldn't deny that she still found him attractive, but this was completely beside the point as the mutual understanding and acceptance that had grown between them was far more rewarding than her unrequited crush had been. Spock might be hard-wired to be dispassionate, but he wasn't hard-wired to have no friends.

Christine felt honoured to be counted among them and to share his company, and if there was anything akin to love in her feelings, she had never faced it. Of course, she loved her friends.

The knowledge of the bond though had forced her to face these feelings up front, and she had realised that while she was happy with the way things were, she was open to more possibilities than she had thought.

The seventh day began with a conference on the topic of the upcoming diplomatic visit. There was no avoiding each other there.

After the meeting, Spock stopped to wait for her at the door, but then he remembered their plan and left without her, followed by Jim.

In the afternoon, Christine entered the biomedical research lab only to find it occupied. By Spock, of course.

"I can come back later," she said.

"That will not be necessary. You may come in."

She settled down at a research station, busying herself with the stimulation of protein biosynthesis while Spock was immersed into some research at another station. For a while, they worked quietly, only the sounds of their work filling the room. Christine smiled to herself. Just being in each other's presence was a large part of what she had missed this last week.

"This isn't working."

Christine flinched. Spock had sat down at her station and was looking at her intently.

"Not working?" she asked, looking at her experiment with a flicker of doubt.

"Not that," he said. "Us. Our separation. It isn't working."

Christine had thought as much. The empathetic contact during the last days had been too strong for their distancing to have been successful.

She laid down her equipment and turned to Spock. She had to resist the temptation to reach out to him. This wouldn't help now.

"Alright. What do you propose? Drastic measures?"

Spock nodded. "I had an idea, a more violent approach if you will."
She motioned for him to continue. If his idea was for her to slap him or something along those lines, she would have no problem, she'd done that before.

"My idea is based on the ritual of Koon-ut-kal-if-fee."

"A marriage ceremony? Isn't that what we want to prevent?"
"It is, in essence, a mating ritual, yes." Spock raised his brow at her knowledge of Vulcan customs. She seemed to have done some research in the meantime. "The Koon-ut-kal-if-fee means 'marriage or challenge'. The Kal-if-fee is first and foremost a fight. Two Vulcans fight for one female if both want to mate with her during pon farr." He averted his eyes again as he talked about such intimate topics of Vulcan tradition. But she had to know. "The female can also demand Kal-if-fee if she does not want her arranged mate. The passion fight breaks the plak tow, the blood fever of pon farr, assuming one of the competitors is not killed first." He stopped to make sure she was still following. She nodded and he continued, "When I fought with Jim on Vulcan, prompted by T'Pring demanding Kal-if-fee, my interest in her vanished when I thought I had killed Jim."

Christine furrowed her brow. "So, the passion fight should break the bond."
"I assume so, yes."

"So, what's your idea? Getting beat up?" She grinned mischievously. This was not too far away from her initial hunch.

"In essence, yes. The female can also choose herself as a competitor. We can meet in the gymnasium tomorrow, and…"
"And I have to defeat you in a fight."

"Yes. I will of course be careful not to harm you, but I ask you not to take the same precaution. Do not hold back, and do not worry about hurting me. The less regard for my wellbeing you employ, the higher the chance of our succeeding is."

Spock's words lingered in Christine's mind as she went to bed that evening. She really didn't want to hurt him. But considering the divide between human and Vulcan stamina and strength, she wouldn't be able to seriously harm him anyway. It couldn't hurt to try Spock's new idea. This time, at least, they would know immediately if it had worked.

To be continued...

I hope you liked it thus far, it's certainly been fun to write! What do you think? Will Spock's new plan work? Stick around to find out!