Disclaimer: If I owned Star Trek, Leonard Nimoy and Zachary Quinto would be tied up in my basement. But I don't have a basement. So, there you go.
Christine sighed in boredom, for what seemed like the millionth time that day, as she watched the various nurses walk back and forth, carrying metal trays and filling out the ever-present paperwork that was required for a sickbay. It was her fifth day as an invalid, but it still wouldn't be until another forty-eight hours until her discharge.
She pondered what was going on around her in the sickbay, wondering what other people on the ship were doing, above on the bridge and below in the engineering room. She constantly worried about the ensign that had taken over her position temporarily at the science station, hoping that they were doing even half as well as they were expected.
As she leaned back against the pillows stacked accordingly against her stiff back, Christine, for some ungodly reason, began thinking about Roger.
Roger.
The very thought of his name sent a strange tremor through her body, making her nauseas. The last she heard, he had broken up with his assistant and took a higher-up position at Starfleet as a surgeon on some starbase. She had no idea why, though. Roger Korby was a social butterfly who fed on the insecurities of others, which was probably how Christine ended up with him in the first place.
When they first met, he was her medical archeology instructor two years prior, when she was halfway through her third year in medical school. She looked up to him and saw him as the older brother she never had, the smart and charming man that she always envisioned would be her Prince Charming when she was a child. Before the term was over, they began dating and it wasn't long until Christine realized that this was more than a casual relationship.
He made her feel something, but whatever it was, it wasn't love. Lust, perhaps, maybe even idolization, but not love. The moment she realized that Roger wasn't 'the one', she made a vow to herself that she would never let a man get in the way of her ambitions, no matter what.
Christine opened her eyes as she sensed McCoy's presence cross the room. He was leaning against a medical cart, laughing with the same nurse that had handed him the bandages when she had first woken up. Christine smiled; the nurse, whose name was Tonia Barrows, was a kind woman about a year older than Christine, with light brown hair that possessed slight tinge of auburn, matching profoundly with her hazel eyes. She had noticed that McCoy seemed much more at ease whenever she was around and the same with her.
Christine smiled and closed her eyes once more, allowing them their privacy. Once again, her light chuckling was met by his boisterous laughter; one of them had obviously made an amusing remark.
Suddenly, her thoughts turned to Captain Kirk and Lieutenant Uhura. By now, the latter would be halfway through her second month of pregnancy, perhaps even on the eve of her third. She sincerely hoped that Kirk was able to obtain a stable position in Starfleet, perhaps as an instructor, until his child was born and he would be able to recommence his title as captain. She wondered what Uhura would do with the baby -- if she decided to keep it, a research position would be obtainable, just as Christine's own mother had done to stay close to the family. With the lieutenant's astounding knowledge in linguistics, she would be a viable member of any research team.
She then began to wonder what would happen when Captain Kirk returned. Obviously, Spock would be restored back to his rightful position as second-in-command and Science Officer and Kirk would take up the Captain's chair once more; and where would that leave her? She supposed that her place would go back down to the sickbay and continue what she had originally been placed down there to do -- research and assist McCoy. And then, the Five Year Mission that was planned would continue, and all would be well.
But, for a moment, Christine couldn't help but wonder why she felt so strange about the prospect of not being on the bridge anymore.
"Alright, careful, careful!" McCoy cautioned as he helped Christine out of her hospital bed, her uninjured arm anchored on his shoulder while her sprained wrist was wrapped in white bandages in a sling, just for precaution. It would be another week or so before she gained full usage of her wrist again, but she was determined that she would be able to handle the science station on her own until then.
Christine, whose leg was now completely mended, stretched, obviously very stiff from staying in bed for a full week without any sort of exercise. As she walked to the small bathroom connected to the sickbay with her uniform in hand, she limped slightly. When she finally got out of the uncomfortable scrubs that she had been wearing all week, was freshly showered, and back in her mandatory blue shirt and black pants, she felt normal again, happy even. Once she looked in the mirror of the sink, she was back to her old self, save for her right sleeve that was pushed up to stay out of the way of the sling.
She held her boots in her left hand and elbowed the button that made the door automatically open, deciding that it would be best if she had more room to put on her shoes. She crossed the room and sat down on the middle hospital bed, taking care to mind her recently mended leg and still sprained wrist. After about three minutes of fiddling with the straps, she had her shoes on and stood up.
McCoy, who had just entered the room with two cups of steaming coffee, handed her one of the them. "Better drink up now. You don't want to ruin your uniform on that bridge anymore. They'll think you're just lookin' for a reason to miss out on the excitement," he told her lightheartedly as she took a sip.
"Oh, you're original," she jeered at him, smiling. She glanced at the holoclock on a desk nearby and immediately downed as much coffee as she could without burning her tongue. "I've gotta go, I'm ten minutes late."
She handed him the half-full cup of coffee and made her way to the sickbay entrance, trying to remember where the fastest elevator lift that immediately transported to the bridge was located.
"Mind that wrist, Chapel!" McCoy called after her.
"Approaching starbase, Captain," Sulu called to Spock.
Christine had made it back to the bridge earlier that day and happily relieved the ensign who had temporarily taken her place. Apparently, so was Spock, because the substitute barely had any idea what half of the buttons on the post were for. As soon as she had seated herself, she sensed that Spock looking over at her for a moment or two longer than usual, but she didn't acknowledge it, thinking it was probably having to do with her tardiness of ten minutes. She hoped to avoid any sort of issues on her first day of returning.
They were due for a maintenance checkup at a starbase. It would only be moments until they would be parked and locked into the base's systems, rendering them the ability to take a few hours of shore leave.
Christine scanned the numbers on the multiple screens in front of her, determining the constants. "Oxygen levels are steady, sir."
"Prepare for docking, Mr. Chekov. Disengage the inertial dampener. Enable the parking rig, Mr. Sulu," commanded Spock.
After about thirty seconds, Sulu announced, "We are docked in Starbase 89, Captain."
"Very well. Mr. Scot?" Spock called the Engineering room.
"Aye, sir?"
"Prepare the shuttles for transportation, we are at port."
"Aye, sir."
"Lieutenant Chapel, would you kindly accompany me to the starbase? It is Starfleet regulation for the second-in-command to assist the Captain."
"Yes, sir." Christine automatically answered and turned to auto-control her station. "Chekov, would you please keep an eye on my post? It shouldn't be of any use at the moment, but just to be sure…" She asked the Russian helmsman.
"Gladly, Lieutenant," he replied and turned back to his own station.
Christine stood up and crossed the room to follow Spock into the elevator lift. When they entered, he entered the code to the boarding floor, where the shuttles were stored and currently being enabled for use. When the doors closed, she noticed that he looked over at her momentarily, just like he had earlier that day. Again, she said nothing, and continued to face forward.
"Your return is much welcomed on the bridge, Lieutenant."
She looked over at him. "You've previously mentioned it, Captain." After saying this, she mentally chastised herself because Spock said nothing in return, making the tension in the lift dense. She had a bad habit of rendering people virtually speechless. She knew that he was a Vulcan and that is was very difficult for him to verbally express himself; she had definitely not helped him in that respect.
"You can call me Christine," she said after a long silence.
"Excuse me?" He asked, as if he had not heard the question. She knew this was impossible, due to his superior hearing that was natural for a Vulcan, but didn't press him on it.
"Christine. You can call me by my first name."
"That would be inappropriate, Lieutenant." There was tension in his voice.
"Inappropriate? But you and Captain Kirk were on first name terms, if I remember correctly."
Another moment of silence.
"How is your wrist?"
She looked down at her right wrist and examined it briefly, stretching out her fingers. "Much better, thanks."
"I am grateful to hear it, Christine." They exchanged eye contact briefly before he continued to look forward. She noticed that his shoulders seemed to loosen up slightly, as if he had been carrying a chip on it for the past few hours.
She smiled to herself…And, for some unidentifiable reason, wanted him to speak to her more.
Starbase 89 was a moderately-supplied base located not far from the planet Tellar Prime, an inhabited Class M planet that was a member of the Federation of Planets. Spock and Christine were accompanied by half a dozen red-shirted security officers.
Once they were able to notify the flag officer of the Enterprise's arrival, Christine alerted the ship of their temporary shore leave. "All crewmembers and personnel are to report back to the ship at 1730 hours. Our departure time is scheduled for 1800 hours."
Spock notified her of her shore leave also, letting her know that her duties as second-in-command were temporarily banded. She was glad to hear this and went off to find a holocommunication room, hoping that there was not a long line of crew members trying to contact their families. Keeping in mind her fellow officers, she knew that she had to be brief.
Luckily for her, the room was empty, save for the circular platform that was almost like a miniature transportation pad. She approached the console that stood in front of it and entered her family's address, and waited for a moment for the computer to read. A solitary beep confirmed its validity.
Suddenly, a hologram appeared on the platform. "Hello?" An attractive young woman who had Christine's same shade of blonde hair was looking at her.
Christine smiled. "Hey, Abby."
Abigail, her younger sister, suddenly let out a loud shriek. "Christine! Oh my God, I'm so glad to see you! What the hell happened to your arm?"
"Oh…Long story. You should have seen me a week ago," Christine answered, but decided to drop the conversation when she saw the concern in her sister's eyes. "Where's mom and dad? And Naomi?"
"Mom's right here…Dad's gone, as usual. He came home the other weekend. I wish he'd just retire, because the Andorians are really stressing him out. Naomi's at daycare…Mom, mom!"
"What is it, Abigail?" answered an unseen voice from the kitchen. "I'm in the middle of peeling potatoes."
"Come talk to Christine! By Christine, I've got to go pick up Naomi, love you." Abigail walked out of the room.
Suddenly, her mother rushed into the room. "Christine! Baby, how are you? Your arm!"
"I'm fine, mom, really, it's just a sprain. It'll be fine in a week. We just arrived at Starbase 89..."
"I heard about your promotion…Your father is so proud! Science officer? And to think, you've just graduated!" Her mother was in awe at the fact. Her bright blue eyes were sparkling with pride.
"Yeah, I know, mom. Listen, I don't want keep anyone waiting, so I'm gonna go. I love you, tell dad I'm fine. Send everyone my best wishes."
"Okay, babe. Please contact us whenever you reach your next Starbase. We miss you so much."
"I miss you too. I love you…Bye."
"Bye, Christine," her mother said, blowing her a kiss.
The hologram then disappeared, leaving Christine standing in the middle of the holocommunication room, alone. She sighed and pulled out her communicator to check the time setting.
"Your family is just as dysfunctional as I remember it. Is your sister still trying to sucker some guy into marrying her so she could finally support that brat of hers?"
Christine immediately turned at the familiar voice. She found a familiar man leaning in the doorway, with the same emotionless grey eyes and slicked-back silver-blonde hair as she had remembered. She tightened her left fist, keeping in mind her invalid wrist, and spoke to her ex-fiancé, careful not to let her overbearing anger bleed through.
"What the hell are you doing here, Roger?"
He answered her with a smug smile as he took a step toward her. "You're just as witty as I remember."
A/N: Ooh yeah. Drama, drama.