Disclaimer: Oh, trust me, the world will know the moment that I am in possession of the marvelous franchise that is Star Trek.

A/N: You know when you haven't the slightest idea on how to write something and a character practically takes it upon themselves to lead the way? Yeah, Christine's done with Spock's nonsense.

Spock still would not look at Christine. "I do not know what you are referring to, Lieutenant." He sped up his pace, gaining the lead.

Irritated with his pretended ignorance, she caught up and stepped in front of him, blocking his way. Despite that fact that he was about a foot taller than she was, she was glaring up at him furiously, not afraid to exchange a few harsh words with her commanding officer.

"Don't play stupid with me, Spock," she said, fuming. This was the first time she ever referred to him by his first name in his presence, but her informality did not stop her from giving him a piece of her mind. His expression remained blank and emotionless, just as always. He immediately secured his hands tightly behind his back, just as he had done the day before in the conference room. "It isn't everyday when your Vulcan captain practically manhandles you."

She continued. "I've endured your constant correction, not to mention your inability to emotionally react to anything! Every possible annoyance that you have enacted on the crew, I've silently stood by without complaint! But not now, sir. I'm done!" She was practically standing on the toes of her boots at an attempt to be leveled with him.

Suddenly, Spock's eyes flashed from the usual calm and immediately became the unfamiliar storm. His shoulders began to tense up and she heard his a slight crack that she assumed was his clenched hands behind his back, as if trying to restrain yourself. "Lieutenant, you are dismissed."

For a moment, she just stared up at him. "Is that it, then? You are not even going to confide in your first officer what the hell is going on with you?"

"Lieutenant--"

"You really are heartless, aren't you?" she concluded. "You have no trust in anyone. That's probably why Lieutenant Uhura left you for Captain Kirk anyways." She then turned to leave. Suddenly, just as she was about to start walking away, two strong hands grabbed her shoulders and spun her around halfway, immediately violently pinning her to the wall. When she gained the courage to open her eyes moments later, there was Spock, inching closer towards her. Suddenly, he seemed to realize what he was doing and pushed himself away from her, against the opposite wall.

"What the hell…?" she barely managed to mutter, her breath only just returning. She backed up, rubbing her shoulder with her unbandaged hand. If he had tried any harder, her shoulder blades would have been easily dislocated.

"I…I'm sorry…" Spock apologized in a rushed voice, practically pleading. He held up his right hand, as if to keep her away from him. She slowly backed away from him staring at him in confusion.

"Captain…Are you alright?" she could not help but ask the Vulcan who, only moments before, seemed bent on tearing her to pieces.

He didn't look at her. "You are dismissed," he tiredly repeated his previous notion. He then began to walk away, gaining speed with every passing second, leaving a very bewildered Christine behind.

"McCoy!" Christine called as she dashed into the sickbay.

Leonard McCoy was reading a PADD. He looked up at her a moment later. "What is it, Chapel? Those bandages of yours aren't going to be cut off until the end of the week, I thought I told you--"

"Something's wrong with Captain Spock." She immediately said, not wasting time.

"Tell me something I don't know," he answered, looking back down at the PADD once more, clearly not sensing the direness of the situation at hand.

"I'm being serious, McCoy."

"So am I," he said, putting down the small device shortly after signing it.

"Then tell me…is it normal for a Vulcan to nearly wring off the neck of their second-in-command?"

"He WHAT?" McCoy roared. "Where the hell is that hobgoblin, I'll--"

"Calm down, McCoy. I've already told you, something's wrong with him. He wouldn't normally do something so rash, trust me. I think you need to check his vitals or maybe even conduct a physical."

"I'll check his vitals, alright," McCoy grumbled. "He'll be lucky to still be breathin' after I'm done with that son-of-a--"

"McCoy, please. I need you to do this," she pleaded. "I think something is seriously wrong with him. Please."

McCoy stared at her for a few silent moments before agreeing. "Alright, I'll take a look at him. He's due for his physical anyways."

Christine sighed in relief. She was more than curious to know what was causing Spock to act so reckless.

Spock banged his fist on the small button outside of his quarters, causing the automatic door to open. As soon as the door closed behind him and he was surrounded by the safe, sturdy confines of his accommodations, he looked around, dazed at the actions he had just committed against his first officer.

Suddenly, just as it had been throughout the morning, his hands began to shake tremendously. He reached for the small temperature device on the wall, once again shifting the small lever to the coldest setting. He then trudged to his computer and sat down, realizing the decision that had to be made. He turned on the monitor and typed in the bridge communication code.

"Communications?"

"Yes, Captain?" The ensign replacement answered.

"I am appointing Lieutenant Chapel as acting captain for an unspecified amount of time. Notify her of my decision when she returns to the bridge."

"Yes sir," the ensign answered unquestionably.

"Spock out." The screen then went blank, leaving Spock to his own thoughts. He leaned back in his chair and gripped the arms tightly, doing his best not to lose control…not yet.

Suddenly, his monitor came back on. "Captain," McCoy's usually gruff voice matched the impatient expression on his face. "Your physical is due. I have you scheduled for an appointment in the morning, at 1100 hours.

"Doctor, I am in maximum physical condition. I am in no need of--"

"Enough of your excuses, it's Starfleet regulation. Both you and I know that, so I expect you to report to sickbay at 1100 hours tomorrow. McCoy out."

Keeping his grip on the arms of his chair, Spock closed his eyes, attempting to meditate. He had been instructed long ago, when he was a youth, that intense meditation was a rare, but possible antidote to his situation. He slowed his breathing and tried to concentrate on the ancient chants that he had been taught, the words that would draw the needs of his own from his thoughts.

Suddenly, the one thing came to his mind that he had been determined to eliminate ever since he came back to his quarters -- Christine Chapel.

Spock recalled the petrified look in her eyes when he cornered her. She always seemed like such a confident woman, but he tore that cover from her the moment he lost control. Whatever was on his mind at the moment made him revolt in shame, repulsed that such thoughts would ever enter his mind.

Then, he wondered what it was that made him close in on her…Fury? No. Lust. It was lust, the one thing he had very little experience in, the one thing he had always thought shallow and disrespectful to those of the opposite sex. These hypocritical emotions were seizing control of him, turning him into someone other than a proud, docile member of the Vulcan race.

Christine, he silently mused, repeating her name several times in his mind before giving way to other thought. His mind recalled her soft, but beautiful eyes that were such a striking shade of blue; her small, unimposing figure that was so small in comparison to his broad-shoulders, his lofty stature, but was always able to hold her ground in any situation; and finally, her modest intelligence that she never flaunted, but used to her advantage very often.

Suddenly, he opened his eyes, forcing the thoughts to dissipate.

No, Spock thought to himself. I will not use her as an object of my incurable madness. She does not deserve it. She does not deserve me.

For the second night in a row, Christine was gazing at the ceiling, unable to get any sleep. But this time, it was for a completely different reason. The day before, she was an officer accused of physical assault, but now she was the acting captain who was charged with delivering the ship to the starbase to where her hearing was set to be. She appointed the same ensign who had been her substitute while she was in sickbay as her replacement.

She had not seen Spock since their encounter earlier that day, but had been notified by McCoy that he had, though not without some discord, agreed to report for his physical, scheduled for later the next morning.

Christine gripped her pillow, remembering when she blindly wandered the bridge for hours, unable to take the place of the previous captain. It was not in her place, she mused. It was Spock's. And she was determined to get him back to that place as soon as possible.

A/N: Erm, heh, I was wondering if I could get more detailed reviews (at least, for this chapter, or the story up to this point) because I'm really interested in what the readers would like to see more of. I know what I am going to do from here on out, at least for the next five chapters or so, but I would like a general idea of what you like/don't like/want/etc.

Thanks again. I will update as soon as I can.