The completion of Kirks second five-year mission left Spock contemplating his future in Starfleet.
In the eleven years he had served on the Enterprise under Captain Pike, he had never experienced such an uncertainty over what his next assignment may be. But Jim Kirk had been offered admiralty for his years in service and had only a few weeks to think it over…
Uncertainty filled the air.
Spock turned from his station to consider his friend; Jim sat in his Captains chair, fingers steeped and deep in thought; to keep the Enterprise or give her up… that was the question.
And on that decision hung the fate of all the command crew; Spock wondered how many would stay if Kirk were to accept reassignment.
Would he stay?
As they headed back upon themselves to report to space-dock for necessary ship refit, Spock pondered his own career; what had it been but a collection of those who had made his achievements with him?
And what was he without those people? Without Jim? Without McCoy? Or Christine…
A wave of feeling rolled through him.
This was not the time!
Spock looked at the planning sheet displayed on his padd; he had to control himself.
Over the last few years, his meditation had been disturbed by visions of her; the blank space he considered his sanctuary – the place he retreated to when life surrounded by the problems and passions of the crew weighed on him – had become a common background for exploring a number of conversations he had never had with the young nurse.
Of course, these meditations felt real… they were within his own mind and the subconscious could be deceptive in its attempts to make him face his repressed, human, emotions. But there was always the outside chance he had been in commune with Christine…
Spock knew there were common beliefs regarding Vulcan mating practices that included psychic bonds… Could it be possible they could share one another's thoughts? Christine was human… surely they couldn't be linked in such a manner.
His mother had never discussed feeling such a link with his father… and Sarek was often called away to distant worlds.
Illogical.
It must have been a trick of the subconscious; distance and time should have alleviated the symptoms… and yet…
Of late…
With every lightyear back upon themselves he found he had been thinking more and more of the Nurse Clinician.
"Captain," Sulu announced, bringing Spock back to the moment. "We will be arriving at deep space station J-5 within the hour."
Spock rose his head to the view-screen, watching the stars streak past them as they approached their destination.
Five years… the station looked the same as the day he beamed her away…
"Spock," he heard his Captain call.
"Sir?"
"I reviewed all shore leave requests and saw your name on the list," his friend led the conversation, leaning on the guard-rail and pausing as the unaired question hung between them.
Spock felt no need to explain himself, so placed his padd aside and turned, "I believe I have the necessary leave banked, Captain."
Kirk nodded, "You do," he agreed, "but in all your years under my command… there was only one occasion you exercised the rite." With that, the human moved closer for fear of taboo, "Is there anything you need to tell me?"
He was, of course, referring to the incident that drew Enterprise to Vulcan.
He was referring to Ponn Farr…
"Captain," Spock lowered his voice a little, "I assure you that if there were any personal issues of that nature that may endanger the mission, I would inform you immediately."
"The mission," Jim blurted a little loudly before moving close again, "damn the mission, Spock… you almost died."
"As did you," the Vulcan recalled, "I have learned a hard-taught lesson from that experience, Sir. You needn't worry."
The human didn't appear all-too convinced, but straightened up, "So… you just want shore-leave?"
"As you say," Spock inclined his head.
"And…" his friend drew-out, "you don't want to talk about it?"
"There is no need," Spock insisted… it was a private matter. "However, I believe you are claiming a few days of leave."
Kirks appearance morphed from concern to surprise, "Yes."
"Then I believe tradition dictates we indulge in traditional evening social revels."
The human hid a laugh, "Do you want to hit the bar after work, Spock?"
"I believe that is what I intimated."
"You're on."
Spock was pleased, McCoy had said their plans stood a fair chance of success. And with Jim agreeing to join them, they were a step closer.
()()()()()
A simple plan of three friends meeting in the station's recreational dome had somewhat escalated; the entire primary bridge crew had joined them.
Not the plan.
However; Spock found the whole scenario grudgingly pleasing.
They were good people. They were family. They would be missed.
Given the current reassignment options offered to so many of the Enterprise crew, Spock was pleased to spend what little time they had with one another before the next few days' decisions drew them away from one another.
The Captain brought the bridge crew a glass of champagne and toasted to bold memories, bright futures and brave, absent, crew members lost during their years together. They all drank, Spock heavily aware of McCoy observing his actions keenly.
The cry of "Christine!" brought Spock to the moment as Lieutenant Commander Uhura leapt to her feet and rushed to the main doors of the bar to greet the familiar figure of the Enterprise's former Chief Nurse.
Spock felt a jolt; she looked the same as she had five years ago, illogical as it may seem. And, though her hair may have taken on a hint of glinting silver here and there, Spock hadn't noticed. Her smile was still as bright and warming as any number of sunrises on the thousands of planets in the Federation.
"Looks good," the gravel voice of his friend intoned, "doesn't she?"
At that moment, Spock had to agree.
"Give her a minute to catch up with everyone," Jim added as he joined McCoy at Spock's side. "It's going to be a free-for-all over there."
And as the Doctor poured him another drink, Jim observed the others… "I've been wondering what's been eating at you over the last few years."
"What took you so long?" McCoy snorted, downing his glass in one shot.
"I know," Jim laughed, downing his own drink in the same fashion, "All those years of managing people; their welfare and needs… I should be ashamed of myself."
"No, Captain," Spock admitted, taking the cold glass in his own hand and sensing the swirl of liquid as keenly as his own feelings swept about the room, "it is I who should have known better."
And he drank-down the burning liquor, letting it fire each nerve it passed as he reacted to the sensation and he slammed the glass down – it ,instantly, filled by McCoy.
"Call me Jim," his Captain said.
And the hour moved on… one painfully slow moment to the next, until the crew thinned and, rallied by his friends, Spock approached the group at the bar.
Christine was still smiling and laughing as Sulu led Uhura away from the bar and only the navigator remained.
"Chekov," Spock heard Christine laugh, "I don't like vodka."
"Zen anysing," the young Russian insisted, flagging a barman, "anysing you like, Christine."
Spock felt his lip curl at the sound of the younger man saying her name.
"OK then," Christine said, "I'll take a Cointreau."
"Cointreau?" The Russian officer queried with disdain, "Pffft; it was inwented by a little old lady in Leningrad."
Christine laughed as Chekov continued, "Tonight you shall have ze good stuff…"
Spock found his cue, "I believe the lady is aware of what she desires, Lieutenant."
The humans startled as they turned to him; Chekov looking suitably intimidated while Christine darkened with annoyance.
"Of course," Chekov dipped his head and gave Christine a smile, "if you vud excuse me… der is a researcher over ser who may prefer wodka to Cointrau, Christine."
There left only them.
"You didn't have to do that," she said, with the same inflections as she had five years previous when he had dismissed Kyle from the transporter room.
"I apologise," he began, noting her shock at the admission, "I believed you had chosen your beverage per your desire."
Her lips chewed inward, "It's not about the drink, and you know it!"
Which was the perfect time for a Cointreau and Romulan Ale to be delivered to them.
And, lady as she was, smiled politely, until the server left.
"I don't appreciate you barrelling over like this and-"
"Vulcans do not barrel."
"You're not whole Vulcan," she snapped before remembering to look for their audience… still oblivious to their melodrama.
If a few turned their heads at her exclamation, it was not obvious… which led him to add, "You are as I remember you."
"Is that some sort of compliment?" She hissed behind her drink.
Because she was right – this Christine Chapel was harder than the one who left him all those years ago… as Spock's mind reached out it encountered a cold shell.
The mental sizzle delighted him, though he may have denied it, he knew he could easily break the fragile defence… but he did not wish it. Should that barrier crumble it would be of Christine's wanting; a wanting to give herself to him freely.
And that was very important.
"Why are you here?" She asked.
"The Enterprise has been recalled to space dock."
"I know about the refit, Spock," she exclaimed, "I mean here, now!"
"I wished to see you."
The honesty earned a moments reprieve from anger as she looked on him.
"And I've wanted to see you…" she admitted, taking an abnormally large sip of her drink.
Despite himself, he was elated! She wished to see him as much as he did her. There could not have been a more shining affirmation that his feelings were reciprocated!
And then she finished her drink with a sharp, "I shouldn't have said that."
"But…" he stuttered as she stood and turned from him, "Christine…"
"Good night, Spock," she shot, over her shoulder.
This couldn't be the end of their meeting, he thought, glancing over to his friends.
Kirk and McCoy gesticulated in Christine's wake and Spock took a moment to consider their actions, only making them wilder in their motions…
So he took flight after her, moving to follow her out of the recreation dome and join her in the turbolift.
The former nurse whirled about to ask, "What are you-" before her entire demeanour changed as she focused on someone beyond him… "First technician Rimmer…"
Spock stepped into the lift in time with Christine and Rimmer as the technician observed, "My goodness, does this man look like Commander Spock."
"He is Commander Spock," Christine confirmed, asking, "Deck seventeen, crew quarters. Where are you headed?"
Rimmer goggled a moment, his pale, human, complexion taking on a rouge as he answered, "postmaster general three, please."
And while the lift moved them to their destination, Rimmer gushed about the many Enterprise missions of which Spock had played major roles and he had appreciated while Spock and Christine willed the journeys end.
Which finally came and Rimmer smiled to tell them goodnight as Christine all-but pushed him out the door to turn on Spock, "Was that necessary?"
?
He didn't understand.
"Letting him pander to your ego like that?"
Was that what he had been doing? In truth, Spock had simply been agreeing with the man so that he may spend the time between fallacious recounts of his valour to observe the medic in close-quarters.
"I do not believe I was pandering to anyone," he countered.
Christine openly growled and left the lift as it arrived at crew levels.
She kept her speed down the corridor until they reached her domicile and she whirled on him to state, "You're not coming in!"
To which Spock had no time to argue as two crewman were heard about the adjacent corridor and Christine gripped him, urging, "Get inside!"
Mechanical doors whisked open as Spock found himself pressed against her in the entrance to her apartment… Christine listened as the voices passed.
Her body, pressed against him as it was, was warm and urgent – something he tried his best to ignore until the perceived threat had passed.
And the voices had passed. But Christine was still pressed to him… moving so her topaz eyes gazed up to his, hazy in the proximity if only for a moment until she ordered, "Now get out."
Oh… but there had to be a point when logic snapped and Spock demanded, "Why?"
"I want you to leave me alone!" She snapped, pointing to the door, "Out of my apartment, out of my life and out of my head!" And, with that, she gave him a shove.
Spock was grounded enough to take the force and grasp Christine's wrists to steady them both before asking, "Out of your head."
"Eugh!" She exclaimed, wringing her wrists in his hands in an attempt to free herself. "Get out," she ordered again.
But he had to know, "Am I in your head, Christine?"
Putting more effort into her escape attempt did little against his Vulcan strength – he held her tightly, without bruising…
Again, he asked, "Am I in your head?"
"You bastard," she huffed, stilling in his hold to look him in the eye, "you know you are."
And it occurred that all those years he had been meditating on the young doctor, she may have been imagining him as well.
The news was such a shock that he released her and Christine dropped her arms to his hips as she watched him mull-over the new information.
"Were you…" she asked slowly… "was it you?"
This was a terrible confirmation, Spock had thought. Not only for how they had come to be joined and the trauma it had caused her but also for the added torment of conjoined mental links that were neither sought nor invited…
"I was there," Spock admitted, wishing he could beg her forgiveness… knowing what a wretch he was…
There was silence thick as stone between them as topaz eyes cut through him…
"You were thinking of me…" she whispered.
And when Spock dared look up he saw her there, as brilliant as any star to be viewed in the nightsky.
Her hands at his hips tightened and pulled him closer as her lips met his; her skin was aflame with a raw, almost unbearable, cocktail of emotion. It was intoxicating and made his head spin in the aftershock.
Blood rushed through his body, keenly reminding him of the last time he had tasted her in this manner; that maelstrom of passion, that whirlwind of heat as he let it consume him and reached out to gather her closer, opening her mouth to further press his need.
Christine welcomed the motion by pressing her need back to him, pushing her hands up from his hips, under his shirt and urging it over his head before dropping the item to the ground.
To his surprise, her tunic was released with equal ease as his lips moved from her mouth to her neck and he let his hands glide over the skin of her back to uncouple her bra.
The motion earned a sharp slap across the face and he froze for a moment as he wondered if the move had been unwelcome… but the sudden presence of her lips on his and her tongue in his mouth as she pressed him back into the cold wall made him conclude it was a token gesture.
So, he continued to disrobe her, as she did him and delight in her reactions as he kissed and licked and sucked his way about her pleasure points before finally joining with her in body and mind; for it was a telepathic and physical link they shared.
And it was just as good, if not better than he recalled as they pulsed and peaked in sensual wave upon wave…
When they were done, they lay in the centre of the living space, exhausted and sated… entwined in one another as they calmed and cooled…
It was then Christine laughed and admitted, "I hoped this wouldn't happen… but always thought it would."
Spock rose a brow, "It was what you wished…"
"I've wished…" she agreed, "Many times, over the years… but your timing always does leave a little to be desired."
He didn't understand…
"You see… a lot has changed since I left Enterprise, Spock."
That was true… Five years was a great expanse to traverse for humans and so…
"I'm engaged," she admitted.
The news hit him like a shuttlepod in the gut.
"And he's due back in a few hours…"
This wasn't what he had intended.
"You have to leave…"
So, without argument, he gathered his things… and left.