Thank you to a wonderful beta, who also wore the co - author hat for this chapter. Much love and appreciation LadyFangs
Chapter 8 – Follow Through
There was something about Christine Chapel.
Despite what Spock knew to be best for him, the relationship with Christine had continued since the night Nyota walked out. She did not possess genius level intelligence. However she was smart in her own right. There was a sliver of compassion that could grow to the size of a mountain when faced with the challenge of someone helpless that needed her. Then there was the side that went to deadly in a matter of seconds, destroying any and everything that stood in the way of what she wanted. She was attractive, curves in the right places on her thin frame. Her golden hair was accentuated by beautiful ice blue eyes, and lips that could elicit untold pleasures as well as old world curses. Right now she looked like a scared little girl, dressed to play grown up. A black dress much longer than what she would normally wear, one foot curved over to the side, and her right hand jammed in her mouth as she bit her nails down to the quick.
The mortuary was filled to capacity with Nero's colleagues, former students, and a massive amount of enemies. Many were only there to see who would come, what would be said, and to attempt to unravel the mystery of the man lying in the black coffin before them. One particular attendant currently had Christine mesmerized. Spock stood next to her- watching Christine watch Nyota Uhura- who was standing casually beside Leonard McCoy. The man had one arm around her waist, keeping her cradled against his body, and it was an obvious attempt to protect her. There were faint bruises still visible on her face from the recent accident. She walked with a limp due to pain that she continued to endure. He saw Christine's eyes go from him to his former lover- looking for any signs of interest or deceit. Spock and McCoy's eyes met and derision towards him was still evident on the doctor's face. He found that he did not much care what McCoy thought- what mattered now was what he himself knew as truth. He pulled Christine away from the other couple with a respectful nod and was met with sympathetic eyes from Nyota.
Damn those eyes…
"You're with me now, Nyota is the past." Christine's words were bitter. Still as hard as she tried to sound tough and angry, the fear in her voice was apparent.
"Now is not the time Ms. Chapel." He walked away from her to thank the minister for the brief eulogy he delivered. This day had been a long time coming, he reflected. He could not do this anymore. This…arrangement with Christine. They had been brought together by the man in the casket. They had fed off one another like succubae. It was not an arrangement made in love or even in mutual regard. He did not like her. He would never love her. But she was his mirror- the living manifestation of the demons that haunted his soul. And he worked to tame them. Releasing and venting in her as she did the same to him. It was sex and lust and hate- all woven into a tangled web of deceit so that both refused to admit they had been using the other. They were poison apart- but death together. Somehow, Spock reflected as he continued to thank the attendees- this day was befitting. Because with Nero's death- the last chain that had bound his soul had broken away…He would not be that man that lay in death. And that meant that old things had to fade away…
Christine knew it was coming. These last weeks, she had seen the signs. But she had ignored them- brushed them off. Today however, she could do so no longer. She grieved for the end of the arrangement she had benefitted from in the last few months.
Watching Spock as he moved in and out of the crowd waiting to give condolences, she continued to stew. Relationships for her were rooted and grounded in the men in her life. She had built no significant attachments outside of that. Not even with the one family member residing in the same town. Jim was practically a stranger to her at this point. She had once held a belief that Nyota could become a friend, but that was quickly destroyed by the games she had played with the woman's heart. And the truth of the matter was- she had enjoyed every moment of it. Nyota was weak. And she, she was strong. Men like Spock and Nero- they needed strong women. Not ones who left themselves emotionally open. Yes, Nyota had set herself up for failure- and Christine could not be blamed for taking advantage of the situation- after all, Nero had taught her well.
Nero.
Sadness rose within her. At one time, what Christine felt for Nero went beyond lust. He had accepted her. He read her like an open book turned to the most intriguing piece of the chapter. Nero had encouraged Christine to gain strength from the past transgressions committed against her. Roger's betrayal offered an opportunity for Christine to control her future, instead of playing the role of naïve and loving companion. Nero had taught her to use her natural talents to control men. She could never have overpowered him and his pupil had proven difficult– but yet she had done it- or at least, she had believed it to be so at one point. She had taken Nero's lessons in control and gained strength. She was not at another's disposal, unless it was her choice.
Which brought her back to Nyota, the woman reminded Christine of what she used to be- what she could have been. Good. Nyota's relationship with Spock took Christine back to what she'd thought she'd had with Roger and what she'd so desperately wanted with Nero-love. Somewhere, deep down in the heart that had long since frozen over- Christine knew, she was jealous of Nyota and the love in her life. She had seen the way both men looked at the girl- one with love and the other with abject infatuation and adoration and she had hated her for it. And so, since she couldn't make it for herself…she'd steal it. She'd break the bitch. And she did. With her mentor and her lover-they had broken the other woman, allowing Christine to have them for herself…
Except…she hadn't. Nyota had survived. And it only made her angrier…
Casting her eyes back to where Nyota sat with McCoy, merrily chatting with one of the interim professors, blood began to pound in Christine's ears. How? Why was it possible that the woman crawled out of depression into the arms of a man willing to look beyond the sins of her past? McCoy was rubbing slow circles on the small of Nyota's back. Occassionally his hand would drift to her hair, smoothing it down, twirling a sing strand around his finger. Christine shut her eyes. Didn't she deserve the same? Christine turned her back to the scene, reveling in the bitterness growing deep within her soul.
Christine moved towards where Spock stood; only to have her path obstructed.
"Nyota." Christine acknowledged the presence of the woman before her.
"Christine." Nyota answered in an equally menacing tone.
The two women silently regarded one another, Christine's eyes darted around the room searching for McCoy.
Nyota answered Christine's unspoken question. "He stepped out to take a call."
It was a challenge. And Christine wasn't about to back down, her ice blue eyes meeting Nyota's warm brown ones.
"He's happy. We're happy. Go cry in your tea." Christine's voice dripped with contempt as she jerked her head in Spock's direction.
She expected the woman to back down, but Nyota's next words and actions unsettled her.
Instead of taking the bait, Nyota looked upon the blond with pity, her shoulders squared and head held high.
"You're far from content with where your life stands Christine. Spock is changing. It's all over him." Nyota shook her head and fixed her mouth in a thin line before speaking again. "He's growing away from you- and good old fashioned maturity will soon leave you in the cold." Nyota moved in closer, whispering the next line, "Have a little class and bow out gracefully- because I know Spock. And I know you do too. "Bow out gracefully while you still can."
McCoy re-entered the room and quickly headed in the direction of Nyota and Christine.
"Ladies, everything okay over here?" McCoy's southern charm seeped out of his pores.
Nyota snaked her arms around his waist, "Just fine." She said delivering a kiss to the man's chin.
The two walked off without speaking another word to Christine.
Intuition…
Every woman possessed it. Christine was no different. Nyota's assessments were correct and she had already noted significant changes in Spock. They had not been intimate long before he received the call that day. The one where he left Christine in mid sentence with a fork poised at her mouth. That very phone call had set in place a week- long absence where he did not respond to her phone calls, texts, or emails. Shortly after his return he had not so much as spoken a whole sentence to her- and had taken to sleeping in another room. Though he had not said anything either way, she knew she was no longer welcome in his home– if she ever had been. After all, he had not bought this house for himself or for her- but for Nyota. And when she was there- she was constantly reminded of that fact. Nyota had picked the furniture. Nyota had arranged the rooms. Even with other woman's personal effects gone…she was ever present…overseeing each and every move…
Part of Christine worried that with Nero's death, the blame for Spock's actions would rest on her shoulders. She made eye contact with him from across the room and he quickly broke her gaze. Coldness settled into her belly. The emptiness in her life, her heart and her soul, could no longer be ignored And for the first time in years, Christine Elizabeth Chapel felt afraid.
Just four years ago, Christine would have mimicked Nyota's actions. Floating on air, smiling sweetly, and laughing at everything the man beside her said.
But that side of Christine- the good and loving and nurturing side- that Christine had died. Roger Korby had killed her.
They were high school sweethearts- the perfect smiles and hair, the pair voted most likely to marry and have fifteen kids. That was them. After all, what do you know at seventeen? Not a thing. Perfect is an adjective clueless people use to describe a state of being that they don't know or fully understand.
Christine was not perfect. Her family was wealthy, but one could look at Nero and Sarek to see that often money was used to disguise the true nature of its owner. That held true in Christine's case as well. Her parents had been deemed the perfect couple. They approved of her relationship with Roger, in the hopes that it would cease the whispers that often followed when Christine entered a room. Her, the daughter of one prestigious family, raped, by another upstanding family's son. To say she was not believed would be an understatement. She became known as that girl.
And it followed her around for years. A stigma she couldn't escape- the scarlet letter emblazoned upon her for the world to see. Until Roger. A fresh face who knew nothing about the past and when he came into her world her life changed. For the first time she felt beautiful. She was beautiful in his eyes. And nothing else even mattered.
In hindsight Christine saw that it would have been better to be forthcoming with Roger and his family. To share the past, the secrets, and the lies that many told about her. But she had been afraid. She didn't want to lose him. And in a cruel twist of fate- that's exactly what had happened.
Christine remembered the day with the clarity, the memory as sharp and fresh as if it had been yesterday. She had committed to memory the flash of heat swelling in her body and the stabbing sensations in her heart as he'd called her a whore and told her that he never wanted to see her again. She walked away, confused, baffled, by his actions. He'd spit on the ground, saying the very sight of her made him sick. He couldn't imagine touching her body with any form of pleasure. He would never allow a slut to bear his children.
That day he'd been cornered, misguided by the man who had taken her body. And Roger, the one who had promised to love her unconditionally for the rest of his life, looked at her like she was nothing more than a cheap hooker.
That day Christine grew up. She had learned that love was a word used to obtain a means to an end. A word that was empty deceitful and not to be believed, it was bullshit. She had resolved that day to stop feeling- because she had felt too much. And inside her, the hurt began to morph and solidify into something else – darker – dangerous. Everyone believed she was a whore- but whore's had power. The only thing a man understood was sex. And sex was power. And Christine would wield that power better than anyone. And men were nothing more than vessels to be used and discarded. So were emotions. And since everyone believed the lies about her…why not make them truths? Roger had left her weeping on the floor the day he walked out of her life. And shebecame what everyone already believed her to be.
She watched as Spock sorted through the pile of mail; systematically discarding frivolous communications from information that was necessity. His long fingers worked meticulously. Her body craved him, she needed him, but weakness would reign if she showed him how much. He turned to face her, bracing the desk behind him and leaning back gradually. She moved, hands out, with the desire for just one touch. He shook his head no.
"It is best we go our separate ways Ms. Chapel."
Not once did his voice quiver during the delivery. The same man that Christine watched break down for over a month at the mere mention of Nyota's name, ended their relationship without any emotional response.
"You need me." Christine swallowed the desperation fighting to escape to the surface.
"Christine." Finally emotion – compassion – sympathy - but no love -"It was an error to continue on this journey with you," Spock was wearing the same mask of pity Nyota had worn earlier.
"If you can't be with the one you love, then love the one you're with– right?" She couldn't keep the desperation from seeping into her voice nor could she contain the tears that began to fall, staining her face. The statement was more for herself than the man before her.
Spock's hand caressed her face. "Don't settle. I apologize for forcing you to live in the shadow of a woman you could never be. Forgive me. Forgive Nero. Forgive Roger. Most importantly Christine, learn to forgive yourself."
She recoiled from his touch, the anger and resentment she felt bursting forth like a burst damn and she jumped up from her seat across from him. Her fists curled at her sides.
"Easier said than done. Trust me, I know from personal experience." She spat with bitterness bathed in hate. She didn't know who it was directed to- either Spock or herself. But fuck him. She was out of there. For good. Christine snatched her bag from the couch, walked to the door, back still turned to Spock. She didn't know what it was in her that made her say the next words- but they came out uninhibited and fresh from the new wound Spock had bestowed upon her.
"You're weak Spock. You always have been. You always will be. No amount of repenting or "I'm sorry's" is gonna change a damn thing. You fucked up. You fucked me. You liked it. And even if she does leave McCoy- she won't take you back. Because when she sees you, she will see me. And you'll die- old and alone just like Nero. Full of "what-ifs" Fuck you Spock and your precious heart that only beats for Nyota."
She didn't turn to see his expression as she slammed the door hard behind her- hearing something glass shatter to the floor in her wake. She felt a surge of satisfaction. It had felt good to say those words. Good to know he would feel as she felt right now. The sound of the breaking glass felt even better…the destruction was almost orgasmic- soothing burning sensations of regret and sorrow fighting their way to the surface.
Until she realized that for the first time in months- she truly had no one- and nowhere to go.
The night air was chilly as she stepped into her car. She turned it on and immediately turned the stereo up as loud as it could go- she knew Spock hated that. And she hoped he could hear it.
She stepped on the gas and peeled out of the driveway, leaving tire treads on the pavement as she raced out the neighborhood the music blaring out of the speakers drowning her thoughts as the tears coursing down her face as she drove mindlessly down the highway.