[A.N. Sorry if it seems a bit condensed. I'm not happy with this last chapter…]

For a moment she did not reply. She had grown used to talking in whispers and undertones and inside the quiet of her own mind. To hear Uhura's voice ringing out loud and unashamed into the sun-warmed air was a strange and startling thing. And then she remembered to say, 'Chapel here.'

She glanced at the aliens, gauging their reactions to her voice. The closest of them were shying away from the offensive sound. She closed her eyes, trying to catch their minds enough to remind them, I must speak with words, aloud.

There was nothing – no clear response from their minds. She felt a wave of guilt over what had to be done, but there seemed little other option. She moved closer to the nearest alien and fixed its eyes with hers.

I must speak to them, she tried again, so I must leave you for now. Be here this time tomorrow. I will come back.

This time she caught a response, the reiterated wondering of, Trust? Trust it?

Trust me, she insisted. I will come back.

'Nurse Chapel,' Uhura's voice came through the communicator, raised in concern. 'Christine? Please respond.'

She turned back to the outside world and said crisply into the communicator, 'Enterprise, lock onto myself and Commander Spock only and beam us up. There are other individuals with us. Please take care to isolate our signals, and have a medical team in the transporter room for Commander Spock.'

She turned her mind back to the aliens, filtering out the response through the communicator, reiterating, Trust. We will come back. Trust us.

The world shimmered, the enveloping heat slowly dissolving away. The glittering sight of the aliens was replaced gradually with the grey walls and bright red accents of the Enterprise transporter room. Members of the crew seemed momentarily frozen, but as the beam released her they jerked into life, reacting with shock and focussed speed.

It was at the moment that she remembered that she was naked.

'My god, Christine,' McCoy said, apparently unsure where to look as he snatched a blanket from a waiting gurney and handed it to her.

She wrapped it around herself as a makeshift dress, smiling with unbounded relief to be back among friends. McCoy was plying his medical tricorder up and down her body, muttering about radiation exposure and sunburn.

'I am fine, Leonard,' she assured him, turning to where Spock lay in a foetal position on the transporter platform, Dr M'Benga kneeling beside him with his feinberger whirring. 'It's a self-imposed unconsciousness, Doctor,' she told him crisply. 'I can update you both en route to sick bay. He's physically relatively well, but he's suffered some mental trauma.'

'Some mental trauma?' McCoy repeated, his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Christine's eyes stayed on Spock as he was lifted to the gurney and covered with a blanket. She touched her hand to McCoy's arm as he turned toward the door, unable to suppress her joy at being home and safe despite her concerns over Spock.

'I'll explain everything,' she promised. 'This is going to take some time…'

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Hours later Christine was explaining for the second time exactly what had happened, this time in the sterile surroundings of an Enterprise briefing room. The distrust about the table was palpable. After her explanation of why Spock was unconscious, malnourished, and showing severely disturbed patterns of function in brain scans, Kirk seemed ready to dismiss any idea of offering aid to the aliens.

'It was unintentional,' she pressed. 'Their sociological responses are different to ours. Empathy seems to be very much based on seeing similarities between peoples. They couldn't see that with Mr Spock. It wasn't until they accessed my thoughts that they realised we were – well, human, for want of a better word.'

'Any sentient being can recognise pain,' Kirk said stubbornly, his lips thin with anger. 'They must have recognised that in Spock.'

'I think they did,' she nodded, 'but it was their only way to communicate. Their perception of their own needs outweighed their perception of his. But I promised them help, Captain. Their numbers are shrinking year on year. There must only be a few thousand of them left. They need help to move away from the irradiated areas and rebuild their civilisation.'

'Bones?' Kirk asked, looking toward the doctor.

McCoy shrugged briefly. 'It's what we're out here for, Jim. We came here in the first place to see why this civilisation had been destroyed, and now we've found out they're hanging on by a thread. By all accounts they're a long way from us on the human to alien scale, but that doesn't mean they don't have a right to live. If Spock were sitting here I think he'd be saying the same thing.'

Kirk sighed, looking at the chair closest to the computer, which would usually be occupied by Spock. It was hard to shake the image of the Vulcan, malnourished and unconscious due to neglect and mistreatment by the Talasees. But Spock would be the first to speak up for the necessity of preserving life and gleaning knowledge from alien civilisations.

'Yes, he would,' he muttered. 'You're right, both of you. I'll get xeno-anthropology working on the best way to interact with them. Meanwhile,' he looked directly at McCoy, 'I want Spock awake and able to talk. I want his view on all of this.'

'Of course, Captain,' McCoy nodded.

'All right, gentlemen, dismissed,' Kirk nodded, and the small assembly got to their feet. Kirk and McCoy turned right towards sick bay as they left the room, and Chapel followed them. Spock had been left unconscious so far while his condition was analysed and his malnutrition and other problems treated, but Christine was certain that there would be little difficulty in waking him, and she intended to be one of the first faces he saw.

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Spock came back to consciousness in much the same way as he had when Christine had first found him, eyes wild and mouth tight shut, staring at his surroundings. His eyes flicked from McCoy to Kirk and finally settled on Christine, relaxing as he registered his surroundings.

'They helped us,' Christine said quietly. 'They carried you to the edge of the radiation field so that we could beam up.'

Spock's eyes closed briefly. When they opened again his gaze was steady but introverted.

'I've given you a psi-suppressant,' McCoy told him. 'It might make you feel a little cloudy in the head, but it should allow your telepathic centres to begin to recover. Do you feel as if you can speak?'

He stared mutely at the doctor for a long moment. And then he said in a hoarse, quiet voice, 'Yes, I – ' He cleared his throat tentatively, looking up with a degree of nervousness in his eyes. 'Without the presence of the Talasees, it – is much easier…' His eyes moved to Christine again. 'You were able to communicate?'

She nodded, trying to keep her sense of pride from reaching her face. This wasn't the place for it.

'It was a more tenuous connection while you were unconscious, but I managed it.'

He nodded in response, his face pensive.

'Spock, Nurse Chapel tells us they need our help,' Kirk said, coming a little closer. 'Do you believe it's safe for my people down there?'

Spock hesitated, glancing down at his hands and his still-ragged fingernails. Finally he said, 'For humans, I believe it is. Their method of communication is – intensely painful to me. Miss Chapel seemed to have no such problem.'

He faltered and stopped, a look of fatigue coming onto his face.

'There are a number of social taboos that we need to be careful with,' Chapel put in, seeing that Spock had spoken enough for now. 'The problem with verbal speech, their antipathy to clothing.'

'Yes,' Kirk said pensively. 'I seriously doubt we'll find a team of people willing to go down there naked.'

'I impressed on them that they will need to compromise,' Chapel assured him. 'Perhaps a combination of tact and skimpy attire?' she suggested with a sudden smile.

'Perhaps,' Kirk said, matching her smile with a rather more tired version of his own.

'Okay,' McCoy said abruptly, looking critically at the readings above Spock's head. 'My patient needs his rest. Come on, Jim.'

Kirk gave him a brief look of annoyance but he stood without protest. Chapel stood too, but she had noticed McCoy omission of her name in the order to leave, and when Kirk and McCoy left the room she did not follow. Instead she turned back to Spock's bed and sat down beside him. He watched her mutely for a moment, and then said with effort, 'Thank you, Christine.'

'What for?' she asked.

'I would not have been found without you.'

She made a noise of dismissal. 'There were dozens of us out looking for you. I got lucky on seeing that trapdoor.'

He nodded, and subsided into silence.

'It'll get better,' she promised him. 'The difficulty in speaking. There's no permanent damage to your brain. Once your psi-centres have recovered and you've dealt with the mental trauma – '

He flinched at that, and she said, 'There is mental trauma. You were effectively tortured by them for a month. You've learnt to suppress speech and to minimise all of your actions to keep yourself from being noticed by them. You have to unlearn that again.'

He nodded and she saw a haunted look in his eyes. She thought again of how she had first found him, curled up and naked in that tiny, foetid room. That treatment alone would affect most normal people, not to mention the mental pain that the aliens' communication had caused him.

'I must apologise for my behaviour,' he said. 'My control – '

'Your control was bypassed by their mode of communication,' she reminded him. 'Apology is illogical, Mr Spock. You have nothing to feel ashamed of.'

He nodded, his eyes hooded and turned away from her.

'I need to meditate,' he said finally. 'Would you leave me?'

A moment of hurt shot through her but she quickly suppressed it. Spock meant nothing personal by that blunt demand. It was just his way. She would seek him out later, and see if the meditation had benefitted him.

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She came into the sick bay much later, when the lights were dimmed to simulate night time and there were few staff on duty. Spock was in a private room to give him the peace and privacy that he needed for recovery, and she slipped into the small space quietly. He was lying on his side in the bed, his head pillowed on his hand, deep in natural sleep, but as she entered he stirred and his eyes drifted open.

'I'm sorry – I didn't mean to wake you,' she said quickly.

'You did not,' he said, and she was pleased at the lack of hesitation in his speech. The meditation seemed to have worked wonders. 'McCoy would not approve my return to quarters,' he said, beginning to sit up in bed.

She glanced at the readings above the bed and then at the chart that was stowed near his feet.

'Well, Dr McCoy is very fond of your company,' she said.

Spock raised an eyebrow. 'I see you share the good doctor's propensity for sarcasm, Miss Chapel,' he responded.

She sighed, seating herself in the chair by the head of the bed.

'Christine,' she said softly. 'After all this, don't you think you could call me Christine?'

He looked at her silently, a moment of frustration seeming to pass through his eyes. And then he inclined his head and said, 'Christine.' He was silent for a long time, and then he said, 'Your thoughts are well ordered.'

She looked up, startled.

'I beg your pardon?'

'During our mind contact I was struck by how well ordered your thoughts appeared. You performed admirably during our escape. I assume you are included in the landing party for second contact?'

She nodded. 'Yes, since we're the only people who've had previous contact, and since you're – well – '

'Quite incapable of communicating with the aliens,' Spock finished for her.

She could see his frustration more clearly than she thought he would want her to.

'You're doing wonderfully at recovering your ability to communicate with us,' she reminded him. 'And perhaps with the psi-suppressant you could beam down. You wouldn't be able to communicate with them, but you could at least study their artefacts and society – and fix their computers.'

Spock nodded slowly. 'A possibility. Still, I doubt McCoy will give me medical clearance to attend tomorrow.'

'No,' she acknowledged, 'but in the future – '

Silence fell again. She sat beside him, thoughts churning inside her that she felt unable to put into words. Down on the planet Spock had been different, closed off in some ways but more accessible in others. Here, as he recovered, he was slowly becoming the efficient, eloquent but inaccessible First Officer again. She finally caught him looking at her, an expression of curiosity on his face.

'It does not take an active telepathic centre to deduce that you wish to say something,' he said softly.

She smiled quickly, and shook her head. 'Oh, it's nothing, Mr Spock. Nothing at all.'

'I doubt that.'

She stilled herself and looked up at him cautiously. 'It's just that – well – there were moments down there, Mr Spock, moments when our thoughts were entwined. I thought I felt – '

His steady gaze was unnerving. He waited silently for her to continue. She recalled being in the semi-darkness of the bathroom they had slept in, catching that stray, mirrored feeling of his thoughts. Perhaps it had been a ghost, an echo of her own feelings, but perhaps…

'I thought I felt affection,' she said finally. 'It's foolish, I know. Vulcan men don't feel such – '

He was silent, his lips pressed together and his eyes focussed on the orange blanket. Here in the very clean and ordered surroundings of the ship they seemed a hundred years away from that time on the planet.

'I'm sorry,' she blurted suddenly, getting to her feet and preparing to leave the room. 'It's stupid. I should never have – '

'Christine,' he said, arresting her before she could leave. His eyes were fixed on her now and there was a brightness in them that was not there before. 'Vulcan men do feel such things,' he admitted quietly but firmly. 'We control those feelings, but we do feel such things.' He was silent again, and then he said, 'I greatly admired your performance on the planet – but – your presence was more than that.'

She found herself sitting down again on the chair by his bed, magnetised by his dark gaze.

'If I am to conduct studies on the planet surface, I would greatly desire a research partner,' he continued in a soft voice.

She almost laughed, but restrained herself in consideration of Spock's dignity. Perhaps this was what passed for a chat-up line on Vulcan.

'Well, I'm very anxious to find out more about the Talasees and how they've survived the radiation for so long,' she nodded, keeping her expression deadly serious. 'And I know you're very good with a tricorder,' she added wickedly. 'You could take notes for me.'

Spock's eyebrow shot up. He folded his hands on the blanket, shifting in a rather nettled way on the mattress.

'Oh, well, maybe you could do a little research of your own,' she continued innocently.

His eyebrow angled still higher. 'Dr McCoy has said before that you are a woman of particular verve,' he said. 'I believe he is right.'

'Then you accept my offer of the position of research partner?' she asked him.

Spock sat propped up on his elbows, considering her for a long moment, his dark eyes seeming to reach into the depths of her soul even with his telepathy suppressed.

'I would be honoured, Miss Chapel,' he said courteously. 'I believe that research with you will be quite fascinating.'

She thought of the aliens with their glittering eyes and their shimmering iridescent fur and of the excitement of exploring a whole new culture, this time with the assurance of safety and support. It would be very different from that desperate run through the tunnels underground, but through that time a door seemed to have opened between her and Spock and she could not wait to pass through it.

The END