Title: The Platonian Effect [Part Two] Series: Star Trek TOS Type: Fanfiction
Pairing:Spock/Christine Rating: 18
Summary: Set after the events in Plato's Stepchildren. Spock finds time to investigate the powers he manifested on Platonius, however, after the abuse he suffered, his mind moves to his inability to save himself and Christine. If only he could talk to her...
Deals with rape and emotional turmoil.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Star Trek characters or anything from the universe of Star Trek. I am just taking the characters and playing with them a while – promising to restore them whole and unblemished! Thanks to Gene Roddenberry for creating these toys for me to enjoy. Please don't take any of my playing as having any bearing on the actual franchise. Enjoy.
()()()()()
Spock awoke with an exhausted, content feeling... he was almost smug.
The night had progressed in heat and flesh. Spock had always known the young nurse was a deeply passionate woman and was happy that their union was a joy, not only to him, but wanted by her.
He dressed, mildly curious as to why Christine had left before he had awoken.
A quick check on his roster proved the chief nurse was on morning shift. How selfish he was to keep her so long when duty meant she must leave so early in the morning. Spock resolved to compensate her for this slight after his duty-shift with an intimate meal of her favourite variety.
For now, his shift was due to begin.
The Captain and McCoy were already in the main turbo-shoot when Spock arrived.
"Spock." Jim greeted as McCoy smiled. "Good night?"
He couldn't help his brow cock, "Indeed."
"Learn much?" McCoy queried.
Spock stopped the grin spreading on his lips, "Quite."
"Well..." McCoy sighed, "I hope you were able to take detailed notes, because I could do with 18 hours worth of comprisable data. Best I can figure is that it has something to do with your pre-existing psychic ability and Jim had double the amount... must have been why the effects lasted so damned long..."
The comment stopped Spock cold. "Surely you mean 12 hours, Doctor. 12 hours where the influences of mind control were apparent."
Jim raked a hand through his hair, "No. He means 18. There were a few signs while we were in the mess hall."
McCoy snorted slightly, "Jim kept on winning at chess..."
"The Captain is a proficient, strategic player." Spock stated, feeling a blanket smother his thoughts and weight sink in his stomach...
"No... there were other things." Jim grimaced.
McCoy smirked.
Spock felt a wave of sickness...
"There were little minions fetching him drinks all night," McCoy explained, "the women flocking round him..."
"Stop..." Jim moaned, hiding his face...
"Please, Jim. It's all you could have wanted."
Spock's nausea kicked up a notch.
"Course... it's also nuthin' new. And the worst was that poor yeoman... making google-eyes at you all night and leaving with you in the end..."
Jim smiled and looked to his first-officer in exasperation. "Nothing happened... once I realised..."
"May I confirm..." Spock began, paling at his own conclusions. "You are saying that the extra-sensory powers we absorbed into our systems..." a shiver ran through him, "The ability to make others bend to our every thought and whim..."
"Only ran out this morning." Jim finished, looking cautiously at his second in command. "Spock. Are you alright?"
It was illogical to think it, but Spock felt the ship spin around him.
"Excuse me, Sir." He said, leaving his post. "I am... unwell. I must return to my quarters to meditate."
Suddenly concerned, Jim reached out to his friend. "Sure Spock. Do you need anything?"
"I am... unwell. I simply need to meditate." Spock lied cooly.
His captain released his arm and watched him all the way into the turbolift.
Spock twisted the control to his deck and leaned heavily on the wall.
Christine had come to his quarters because he had willed her there. That's why she had been so confused. She had calmed from her nervous state, not thanks to Vulcan tea... but because Spock wished her calm. And she had spent the night with him because...
Spock shuddered.
What had he done to her?
Was it not enough she had been used as a plaything by the Platonians, but Spock had then proceeded to abuse her in such a fashion!
What was he to do?
Without conscious thought, he had found his way to sickbay to be told Nurse Chapel had been unwell this morning and not registered in.
His concern for her grew as she refused to answer her door. A few overrides commands and he had entered her quarters.
"Go away, Spock." She sobbed.
Spock felt the sides of his heart tear away from each other as he beheld Christine, slumped in the corner of her sleeping area. She was dressed in a towelling robe, her still wet, her skin rose from over scrubbing... all signs of trauma... all symptoms of rape.
He hated himself more than mere thoughts or words could express.
Sensing him, Christine recoiled into the bed frame. He halted immediately, wishing he could ease her pain... wishing that his whims could now grant him what he willed... that he could hold her.
"Christine." Her name was weak on his lips.
A jagged sob ripped from her, she convulsed, bracing herself against the bed frame. "Please... no..."
Spock crumpled, feeling the strength in his knees seep away until he was folded on the floor near her front door.
()
It was three hours before Christine made any motion toward him. Spock couldn't be specific... his usual resolve was shaken to its core... and his concentration was bent solely on the young woman before him.
Christine moved to the replicator, as she selected her meal for the day. She collected the tray and scurried back to her corner.
Spock wasn't hungry. Neither was he thirsty. Vulcans could fast for weeks on end without sustenance and, given his observations of Christines suffering over the past hours, the least Spock could do would be to do penance for his crime...
"What are you doing here?"
The question was fragile and took him by surprise.
Spock rose his eyes to hers, immediately regretting the motion as he noted her tear stained skin and reddened eyes. "I had wanted..." he watched her recoil from the sound of his voice and stuttered, "I needed to see you."
Christine nodded, unable to find the words.
"Christine..." he tried again, his heart lurching at the sound of her sorrowful gasp, "please tell me what you are thinking."
There was the longest silence until she began to stir... "I remember doing what I... what I let you do..."
Spock felt the bile rise in his throat. "You had no wish..."
Christines crystal eyes stabbed him to silence.
"My only... wish," he faltered, "please let me help you."
Christine watched him for the longest moment. "I think you have done enough, Spock." She said, refusing to meet his eyes. "I want you to leave now and not to come back."
After all he had done... how could he refuse?
()
It had been almost a week.
Jim had chosen to assign the ship much-needed shore-leave at a local resort-planet. Spock had refused the option, as always.
The hope, that no one else knew, was that he might be aboard ship when Christine finally regained her duties.
The Chief Nurse had been off-duty since... since Spock had last seen her. She had neither answered nor confirmed receipt of any of the countless messages Spock had left her over the past few days.
For now, Spock sat at his desk. The monitor displayed the recent scientific survey of a dark star formation... something that would normally be of interest to him. But he had been preoccupied for many days.
"Computer," Spock commanded, "give me the current location of Chief Nurse Christine Chapel."
The sound system whirred, "Working. Nurse Christine Chapel is no longer aboard ship."
Spock startled, "When did she leave?"
"Fourteen fifteen hours."
It was only mere minutes ago. "Computer, which officer confirmed Nurse Chapels request for shore leave?"
"Working. Shore leave for Nurse Christine Chapel confirmed by Chief Medical Officer, Doctor Leonard McCoy."
Spock found himself on his feet and outside sickbay before he had truly considered his next action.
Doubt strummed through him. McCoy would not be willing to discuss Christines state of heath, mental or physical, he would see it as a private matter between doctor and patient – or even, confidentiality between friends and co-workers.
Spock would have to think of a way he could make McCoy surrender the location of his Chief Nurse without knowing he had done so...
With a swish, the sickbay doors opened and the Doctor stepped out, catching at the last to avoid walking straight into -
"Good Lord, Spock! What are you dithering outside sickbay for?"
"I believe I..." when in doubt, Spock concluded, I am half-human, "I believe I have a cranial hypertension, doctor."
"A headache?" McCoy questioned in disbelief.
"As you say."
"By all that's…" the physician drifted off… "You'd better come inside…"
Once in sickbay, Spock thought, he may overhear some co-workers discussing the location of Christine... alas, this was not to be.
Spock looked about for nurses or technicians.
"Skeleton staff." McCoy explained, moving to his office and taking out a peculiar vial he added, "who knew so many people had gone through so much recently?"
Spock took a moment to wonder if the doctor was making a pointed comment on his recent... discretion. But it seemed his friend was merely thinking aloud as he poured the sickly green liquid into a cup and diluted it with water.
"Try this." He said, "should knock that ol' pain right out the other side of your head."
Raising a brow to McCoy's turn of phrase, Spock eyed the liquid and wondered how far he was willing to take his act. "I was considering taking a short respite."
McCoy, who had been lifting a beaker to his own lips, spluttered over the desk, "Shore-leave?!"
"Is that not your usual remedy for a stress related ailment, doctor?"
The physician recovered, "Normally, yes. But you have never-"
"The past few days have had an unusually high level of strain." Spock pressed, placing his medication on the table. "I believe some space to meditate and work-out my... ailments might be in order."
Dumbfounded, the doctor reached for his padd and signed Spock off to a landing party with immediate effect then handed the order to the science officer.
That was easier than anticipated.
Transporter chief Kyle was on duty when Spock arrived in the transporter room.
"Mr Spock!" The Englishman pronounced, "You have just missed the last transport."
"I was detained."
"I am about to go off duty, Sir."
Spock moved to the transporter console. "I am aware of that, chief. You may leave and I will programme an automatic transport." The engineer looked uncertain, so Spock turned to him. "I am quite capable."
"Well, yes sir. Of course you are, sir... it's just..."
"Mr Kyle."
"Yes sir?"
"You are dismissed."
The Englishman straightened with trained acceptance, "Yes sir."
And with that, the officer left the room.
Spocks fingers flew across the terminal as he requested the location of the beam-site Christines party had been assigned. He wondered about the ethics of his actions and found, quite illogically, he did not care to debate the finer points – he simply needed to see Christine and speak to her.
The coordinates locked and Spock was on the surface within the minute. All that remained was to find members of the crew and locate nurse Chapel.
But wandering the busy streets of the planets leisure island proved that his task was far from easy. Spock had never been one to socialise with the crew and their surprise at his arrival on the planet.
He had taken to asking the locals for Christines location, saving himself the awkward surprise and questioning of his fellow crewmates.
Time was wearing on as Spock entered another public house and wove his way through the undulating crowd gathered on the dance floor.
The display wafted the thick scent of attraction into the air as bodies crashed together and apart in what, Spock assumed, the performers considered rhythmic art.
It was easy to avoid contact and reach the bar; "Excuse me," he said over the thumping noise.
The servers were swamped, but a scantily clad male made his way to Spock and nodded his attention.
"I was hoping you might have seen an associate of mine."
The mans eyebrows rose.
"Human female, slim, above average height, blond."
The bar server smiled and nodded his head toward the floor; while Spock would admit there were a number of blonde, human females in the crowd he failed to see how any of them compared to Christine.
Spock nodded to the man and turned to leave.
"My God, it is you."
Uhura stood before him, a hand balled on the curve of her hip. "What brings you to a bar like this?"
"I was looking for someone." He stated, attempting to ward off the increasing sense of panic.
"Chris?" She asked, a knowing smile spreading across her glowing features. "I've noticed a thing... between you both."
Spock was astounded. He was aware that the young linguist had a keen ear, but had no idea she was equally skilled in observation.
"Do you know her whereabouts?"
Her earthen eyes tightened on him, "She said she needed some space. Figured it was something to do with the two of you and the Platonian mission."
"Lieutenant," Spock began, "I have already been sufficiently threatened by Doctor McCoy. I simply wish to see that Chris..." Spock stuttered, "Nurse Chapel is..." this wasn't going as well as anticipated, "I want to know how she is."
Uhura angled her head, "Right." She shifted, clearly considering her options.
There was enough patience in him to wait-out the junior officers deliberations.
"Are you making that an order?" Uhura questioned.
Spock considered it, but that would have meant a heavyhanded overuse of his powers... "No, Miss Uhura. I am not ordering you. I am asking you."
She looked startled for a moment and then confused. "Ok. Well... if you were to leave this bar and head north-by-northwest toward the beach and walk to the outskirts of the town, you might see a saffron coloured cottage on the shore line. Close by, there's a bench. The sunset is worth watching from there."
Spock rose a brow, "Is this Christines current location?"
Uhura shrugged, "I'm just saying it's a nice view."
()
And, a number of hours later, Spock agreed it was a pleasant prospect as the warm red sun sank below the horizon.
There were a number of private villas in the area and he had a sneaking suspicion he might find the chief nurse residing in one of them.
The time passed in meditation. Yet, Spock remained uneasy.
Hours dragged on as he attempted to ease his mind.
The great, golden orb of the sun began to dip behind the line of crystal water and he still waited.
The sunset burned the sky and still there was no sign of Christine.
And then there was a sound that drew him to stand. A voice calling to him in the dusk... Spock found himself at the beach, dragging his heels in the ivory sand.
She was there, hip-deep in the cooling water, one arm outstretched as she allowed the waves to pass through her spread fingers.
Christine was magnificent; stood against the tide and not bending to it.
He felt as though he could stay in that moment for a lifetime, as Christine turned toward him, haloed in the dying sunlight and folded in on herself as she saw him observing her.
Spock found himself beside the human, supporting and shielding her as much as he could.
She felt so fragile in his arms, even shivering slightly against the night.
"How did you know I was here?" She asked, remaining in his arms and not looking to him…
"I have searched for you since I learned you were not aboard ship."
Christine nodded against his chest, breathing hard to calm her tears.
He tried to think of something to say… anything… "You changed your hair…"
An observation that was clearly unwelcome as the young woman jolted away from his reach and looked at him with fury filled eyes.
"I wanted to change what I looked like," she explained, absently brushing a hand through her shorter, now autumn coloured hair, "I wanted to change what I was feeling… can you understand that?"
Spock wanted to say yes… but years of indoctrinated training sprang up and denied him his confession as Christine turned from him and headed for the beach. He joined her on the shore, noticing , with dismay, her steadfast refusal to meet his eye…
"I tried to hate you," she said into the warm, night air, "I tried to reason that it might not have been your fault. That you didn't know..."
He held her tighter, feeling a sudden self-loathing for causing her such pain.
"You didn't know... did you?"
"I did not." He answered, finding his throat dry.
"So you were still able to control people mentally… and all you could think about was seeing me…"
"That is correct…"
"And somewhere along the line… you did want me? Didn't you?"
In the midst of the chaos of emotion that was crashing through her skin and impaling him on the bed of thorns, he turned her to him and pressed his lips to her forehead.
A very human response, he found himself thinking as his mouth moved, "I had wanted you to want to be with me of your own volition. I was ashamed I had failed you on Platonius and I had wanted to make it right," he said, the words flooding forward, the last words of the burning, drowning man..."And in this wish, I stole that choice from you."
She nodded and moved to walk along the shore.
He followed; it was the only course of action.
"It was like I was there, but I wasn't" she said, still not looking his way. "I could see what I was doing, hear what I was saying, feel how you touched me and how I responded... but I wasn't in complete control."
Spock could not feel more wretched. "Tell me what I can do." He begged, "How can I ease this pain I have burdened you with? Let me make you whole again."
Christine smiled, "If I knew the answers, Spock... I would be whole already."
And so they stood, for a time, watching the moonlight glisten from the rolling waves and taking comfort in the predictability of time; wave should follow wave, day would follow night and light would follow darkness.
So it must be.
After what felt like an eternity, Christine moved to the shore. She turned and indicated for Spock to follow.
They moved toward a small cottage. Christine offered him tea, which he accepted.
Night rose on the horizon and the aesthetic lights gave the small cottage a hazy, warm glow.
They had been in silence for almost an hour, when Christine turned to him and sighed, "I'm not sure why you are here Spock."
"I needed to be," he answered.
Beside him, Christine huffed a laugh… ""Through guilt?"
"Through wanting. Through needing to see you."
"I've been reassigned," she stated bluntly, either not hearing or ignoring his words, "I requested it, actually. The Lexington needs a Chief Nurse and clinician, so I can continue my doctoral studies while on active duty."
Spock felt the barrier between them as though it was a physical wall and he listened as Christine mapped out her future; away from the Enterprise and away from him.
"I think I need to get as far away from this… situation as possible." She nodded to herself and continued, "I let myself be a fool for you Spock. Bringing you soup, sharing our consciousness, performing in that marionette show. It's bad enough the crew know how I have been acting, but you know the Enterprise… if they even have the slightest idea that you are here with me now then they won't stop until they find out what happened between us. And I don't want to go through that. Not again."
Spock was still slightly dumbfounded. He had never truly believed she would leave. Christine was such a part of his life onboard ship that he couldn't imagine serving without her.
"Don't go…" he said in a small voice, wanting to tell her he was sorry and that he had truly believed she had been in his quarters and with him through her own desires…
But the eyes that he was so used to seeing filled with compassion and care and joy were dull and cut-off… through his own doing… if he would have allowed it, his heart could have broken.
"We have a few days left serving together once shore-leave is through," she said, standing and moving to the door with purpose.
Spock followed, uncertain of what else to do…
"I expect our respective duties will keep us adequately busy, so we shouldn't see each other at all between now and my transfer date."
What was she saying? "Christine…"
"Please, Spock… don't make this harder."
He didn't understand; whether it was a case of Human/Vulcan culture or simply male/female lack of understanding, he was uncertain… but Spock truly could not think of what to do…
"Enterprise to landing parties…"
The hail broke the moment as both officers looked to the communicator in the Science Officers belt.
"Enterprise to landing parties…"
Flipping open the device, Spock replied, "Confirm."
Uhura's distant voice ordered, "Recall on all shore leave personnel. Enterprise has been called to a distress signal on Camus 2…"
Restraining a sign, Spock confirmed, "Acknowledge Spock and Chapel." It wasn't until he replaced the communicator and saw Christine, finally, looking at him, he thought…"Was is acceptable I confirm you receipt of the recall…"
"As with most things, commander," she said, anger building in her gaze, "you appear to act and only consider the consequences after."
The words bloomed in his stomach; another chance to reconcile was lost.
"I will collect my things," she informed him and strode away.
Spock was the most wretched thing in the universe…