Spock had been trying not to think on the new assignments he had to confer with the Captain over during the end of the current rotation.
He had planned several promotions, three internal transfers, a number of newly recruited ensigns, some new officers from local ships and stations… and those whom Enterprise would leave during their lay-over at Deep Space Station J-5.
There were a few scientists due to transfer to the newly constructed labs and bio-domes… and those from Enterprise who would prefer to remain in such an environment than continue on their mission and all that the five year mission may bring.
If he were human, he would admit that he was hurt by Christine's transfer request when it came through to his station.
If he were human, he could accept that the formality of the request stung him; given she had never shown any inclination of wanting a transfer.
But, if he were human, he supposed he should have been happy for her. She was fulfilling her aspirations of becoming a Doctor. The human part of him understood she would be better placed at Deep Space Station J-5, given their status in the field of bio-research…
Spock attempted to suffocate the feelings in duty and work… nothing seemed to remedy his current state.
He was going to miss her desperately.
And still, Christine did not seem to want his company, even if they were surrounded by colleagues.
Spock had tried all he could think of… but Christine had awkwardly avoided him
What could he do?
He couldn't think on how the Enterprise might be without her…
How he might be.
There had to be resolution… had to be a resolve on their shared pain…
He needed her for that.
Needed her to absolve and balm him.
Damn his Vulcan heritage; he needed her!
Perhaps he even loved her.
But he couldn't admit it.
Could he?
The hours were closing in as they approached J-5.
There had to be a way to reach her…
Had to be something he could say or something he could do.
But as time wore on he was unable to find a solution.
And it came down to that day.
That moment…
When all the other transfers were complete and there was but one transfer left…
Spock entered the transporter room, almost breathless to see her stood on the platform as she turned his way… then tried to ignore how her disappointment stung him as she shifted uncomfortably and focused on the transporter chief.
"You are relieved," Spock announced, taking up position at the side of the control deck.
The English officer blinked and spluttered…
"Was there anything else," Spock asked, adding an intimidating, "Mr Kyle?"
Swallowing hard, the chief made his best wishes to the newly appointed nurse clinician and gave up the room to the First Officer.
"You didn't have to do that," Christine squeezed her eyes shut, "I didn't need to see you."
An electric jolt shot through him… he almost felt the pain in those words and in the realisation of the hurt it caused within her.
"I needed to see you," he admitted, pushing down the years of repression… the feelings of pride and shame in that pride and need…
Her gasp was audible… she squeezed her eyes shut and stood a moment to clasp her hands to her stomach, "Why?"
"I do not wish for you to leave the Enterprise."
Sapphire eyes shot open and he was keenly aware of the bolt of emotions running through her; he could feel her shock, her anger and her hope.
But as quickly as Christine had felt that cocktail of emotion, she had buried them and closed her eyes against the moment once more.
"You can't do this, Spock," she said in a levelled and controlled manner, "you can't expect me to give up my career and my future because of your guilt."
"I am guilty," he agreed, stepping around the control panel, "and I can never ask your forgiveness…"
"Well you have it," she blurted, "regardless of your desire for it, it's yours. And you can't take that back because I'm never going to make it simply go away." Christine breathed a heavy sigh and reached to lean a little on the transporter, "This wasn't something either of us planned Spock. This is just the way I have found to deal with it."
He hadn't intended the conversation to go like this… but he wasn't equipped to manage the feelings he was experiencing…
For one of the rare times in life, Spock felt entirely trapped.
"I need to do this," Christine said, nodding to herself and standing squarely on the transporter pad once more, "I need to do this myself and without feeling you are there just because you think you owe me or because you think you should be."
There had to be something he could say to change her mind…
"So I would like you to go back to the controls… wish me a long and prosperous life… and beam me off this ship."
The room whirred about him, the usual beeps and shrill chimes of the computers did nothing to fill the gaping stillness that consumed him.
This was so final.
This was the end.
Spock returned to the control panel, years of training taking over as he lifted his eyes and gave the traditional, Vulcan salute and wished, "Live long and prosper, nurse Chapel."
She took a breath and nodded, "Peace and long life, Mr Spock."
And if her voice cracked through the sentiment, neither acknowledged it…
They were her last words aboard the USS Enterprise.
()()()
Days had passed, possibly weeks.
Spock had been suitably preoccupied with the new orientation of crew members as they settled into their duty shifts.
But at the end of this particular rotation he found himself in sickbay, staring down at the empty station of the Chief Nurse.
He wondered what Christine was doing… how she was enjoying her new role… if she missed the Enterprise… if she missed him…
"Good God man!" McCoy exclaimed as he rounded the corner, "What in the blazes are you doing there! Nearly gave me a coronary to see you stood like a ghost." But no sooner had the doctors anger flashed, a concern washed over his expression, "What's wrong? Are you sick?"
Spock felt a fondness for the man, his friend, and the sudden worry he felt. "I am fine, doctor."
The humans expression changed again as he cautiously eyed his fellow, "You're ok? Then is it Jim? Or one of the crew?"
"No," Spock shook his head, "there is no cause for concern, I assure you."
Even more suspicious, McCoy nodded, "No cause for concern, eh? That's why you're here in sickbay when there's nothing wrong with you or any of the crew…" and then, inevitably, he looked to the empty workstation and a smile of realisation crossed his lips, "Should I have asked if there was a problem with any of the current crew."
Fascinating how this emotional man would unerringly chose to ignore logic and follow his emotional instinct but arrive at the correct conclusion!
Spock remained silent…
"Missing her, are we?"
He did not reply.
"God knows I've done this for enough people…" the doctor griped, "never thought I'd have to do this for you!"
Spock cocked his head, "Do what?"
"This!" McCoy replied, hurling a wheeled chair in Spocks direction and commanding, "Sit-down."
The Vulcan obliged as McCoy grumbled and began rummaging through his cupboard before producing a bottle of blue liquid and two glasses.
The physician skilfully popped the seal and poured two glasses, thrusting one in Spocks direction, "Now this is the good stuff!" He waited a moment before swirling it a little, "And don't give me any of that BS about not drinking alcohol… I checked and picked this up on Vulcan the last layover."
Chagrined, Spock took the glass. Leave it to McCoy to discover this on their last planet stop! "Are you not on duty?"
"Finished an hour ago," he grinned.
Nodding, there was only one, logical, course of action; Spock took a sip.
The nectar was a naturally occurring sap that came from a rare tree in the southern hemisphere of Vulcan. It had a strong, almost aniseed flavour to a human and was quite potent. Ancient Vulcans did indeed use the liquid as a recreational beverage… more modern uses were for medicines and in cultural ceremonies. Spock had always, secretly, liked the taste.
McCoy appeared to enjoy it as well.
And there it was; two friends having a drink after work…
Perhaps now was as good of a time as any to ask…
"What did you mean," Spock asked, to clear the query, "When you said you've had to do this kind of thing before?"
Shrugging, the human replied, "I mean I've had to talk to the heartsick before."
Overlooking the description, Spock queried, "Since Christines departure?"
The doctor's eyebrows shot up in unison, but he remained composed. "No… over a lot of things… sometimes the best cure is to just get it off your chest. Clear the air. Let it rip!"
Despite the colourful explanation, Spock nodded his understanding.
"Is there anything you need to talk about, Spock?"
There was, of course. That's why he was here.