Part 3
Chapel saw that Sarek's meeting was over and hurried to transfer her queue to her back-up and get to the cafeteria. He'd be gone for a week and she wanted to spend a little bit of time with him. Lately he'd been on back-to-back missions and they hadn't been the kind he'd need Emergency Ops there for.
"You're in a rush," Jan said as Chapel stood. Their terminals were close to each other now, something Chapel had thought would be good for their friendship and it had been. It felt like old times, whispering back and forth, laughing at funny things.
It also made it easier for Jan to know way too much of her business.
"I have lunch plans."
"Who with?" Her tone was innocent, the glint in her eyes wasn't. "Well, at least I know it's not with the captain since he's somewhere out there." She gestured in the general direction of up.
"Just a friend." Her comm unit chimed, a succession of tones that were Sarek's alone, and she opened the message and saw he'd been called into another meeting. That he'd see her when he got back in a week. "A friend who had to cancel." She met Jan's eyes. "You free for lunch?"
"Wow, don't I feel special, Chapel. Geez." But Jan was closing down her queue and transferring it, and walked in companionable silence with her, but just before they got to the cafeteria, Jan pulled her out a side door, into the sunshine and the fresh air. "I know, in the past, I've let things fester and been a rather large bitch. You've tried and I've tried and we've done well lately. I think, anyway?" She suddenly sounded tentative.
"We have. Jan, we have."
Jan drew her down the hill, to a bench that faced away from Command, meant to enjoy the view but Chapel knew it was also a spot not very well covered by Starfleet surveillance.
"Ever since you were on your impromptu vacation, you've been different. You've been...I'm not even sure what. Happy, I guess, but then not. Distant sometimes. Lying. By omission anyway—or at least I think so. But I've never asked you. I didn't want to be lied to again. Our friendship can't take it."
Chapel took a deep breath, ready to come up with some twisting of the truth so she wouldn't have to lie, but Jan put her hand over her mouth and said, "Don't. I mean it. Don't. I don't want to go back to hating you." She let go of her.
"It's not Kirk."
"I know. It's Sarek. We Rand women have very sensitive noses and his incense is distinctive. It's probably lovely to fuck to. But he's married. What the hell are you doing?"
Chapel just stared at her.
"What? You think I can't be insightful?"
"I'm not saying you're right. Okay? I'm not saying that, but if you were right, it wouldn't be so...straightforward. So...tawdry."
"So you're not his mistress?"
She met Jan's eyes and wanted to lie, wanted to say she wasn't. Wanted to make herself look better. But she was sick of hiding shit from her best friend. They'd both worked so hard to get back on track and she was not going to let a man get between them again. She took a deep breath and swallowed the lie.
When she didn't answer, Jan smiled gently. "Thank you. For not lying." She sighed. "This isn't you."
"I snuck around with Roger."
"Because he was your boss, not because he was someone else's husband." She frowned. "He wasn't someone else's husband, was he?"
"No." She was unsure how much she should say, knowing Sarek would want her to be discreet. But he wasn't here. And Jan was. Caring. Noticing. "Do you think anyone else knows?"
"Sweetie, he's a Vulcan. Hell, he's the Vulcan as far as some folks are concerned. And everyone knows Vulcans mate for life. Unbreakable psychic bonds. Above reproach. Moral compasses made of steel. Yadda yadda yadda. They don't know you like I do. So, no. I don't think anyone else suspects—except maybe his wife?"
"She knows."
"You say that so easily."
"I don't actually. Because she... This started in a way that really isn't my fault—or Sarek's. But then, the choice to keep going, she helped make it."
"Wait. Are you with both of them."
"Jan, no, Jesus."
She held up her hands. "Sorry. It's just...that's the simplest solution, scarily enough."
"No." She leaned in. "Promise me. Ops swear. Ny hears none of this. No one hears any of this."
"Ops swear."
"She's sick. No, it's worse—she's dying. Slowly. But the bond doesn't die, as you said. Everyone fantasizes about the emotion a bond could carry, the desire. Sounds great, right? But what if you're sick? How would that feel, the constant...barrage?"
"Oh." Jan got it quickly, her eyes widening. She always did get things quickly. "She can't turn it off? No mute button for the bond?"
Chapel knew she wasn't really joking. The bond was highly misunderstood—and glamorized. "No. Except, yes, she has pain meds. Strong ones. They...they act like static. Interfere with the connection."
"He must feel emotionally stranded when that happens."
Chapel smiled, grateful at Jan's ability to take complex info and gist it to its most basic point. It was why she was excelling in Ops. "Exactly."
"So he has her on her good days and you on her bad days. She, if I understand this right, has him unless she chooses to escape." At Chapel's nod, she took her hand and squeezed it gently. "And what, my friend, do you have? Is it more than cancelled lunch plans and occasional sex?" There was no acid in her voice, no sarcasm. This was the Jan Chapel remembered from their first mission. The friend she loved, who loved her, too.
"Some of the time, yeah. Some of the time, it's really great." She didn't want to say when those times were. That Amanda had longer and longer periods of absence. That the farther Sarek was from her physically the less he felt her even on good days. The missions Chapel went on with him were times that went on the good side of her "life with Sarek" ledger, no matter how crappy the actual purpose of the mission.
"So you're not going to stop seeing him? Even if I told you that you could go for Kirk instead?"
Chapel laughed. "You must really be concerned for me if you're willing to let me have him."
"I am. This...it's just I know how you love. How much of yourself you throw into what you want. How long will this work? I get that it's still sort of new but eventually...?"
"Well, you'll be here to monitor me." She laughed, feeling safe, feeling protected. It was a feeling she'd never been sure she'd get back with Jan.
"Actually, I won't be. It's why I'm talking about this now. Sulu got Excelsior. It's not public knowledge yet. But, he wants me on the ship and I'm going. He wanted me to see if you'd be interested in CMO. Christine, come with us. This thing with Sarek won't work long term and you know it. And you've been in Ops too long. The pace will kill you eventually."
Chapel closed her eyes. "It's so nice of Hikaru to want me but...I'm on the short list for Matt's deputy." Actually Cartwright wanted her and he generally got whatever he set his mind on, but it sounded better to say the posting was still being decided. "That's not public knowledge, either."
"That's a captain's billet." Jan's eyes opened wide. "Wow. Oh, okay. Not much travelling in that job, then." Again, she found the root problem in a sea of information. "Your trips with Sarek must be nice—and offer rare access."
"They do. I'll miss them. We'll miss them."
She saw pity in Jan's eyes. Like she wasn't sure how much Sarek would care.
But it wasn't like that. He loved her.
Just because every "other woman" probably said that, didn't make it any less true.
##
The sun shone in through the filmy curtains, light pooling on the floor near the bed. Chapel moved so she could feel the sweet breeze better and kissed Sarek's chest. "How did you manage this?" Alone, on this gorgeous planet, no work, just them.
"This was my last opportunity to do so, in all likelihood. Your new role as deputy will limit our opportunities to travel together." He eased her up so he could kiss her, his lips demanding, and she laughed as he pushed her to her back and eased into her.
"You're insatiable."
"I have missed you. There is a difference."
"Yes, there is." It was the difference that kept her sane some days.
Then she gave up thinking. They'd been together long enough to know what the other liked, and how they liked it. Not that they didn't try new things—Sarek seemed to love to come up with interesting positions to try. She didn't know if he was making things up during boring meetings or if there was a Vulcan Kama Sutra she wasn't aware of.
At any rate, it kept things interesting—and gave her a reason to hit the gym just to stay limber enough to keep up with him.
She didn't know what Amanda was doing or what she thought of this. Generally, Sarek didn't stay over. Generally, he was the model of the Vulcan ideal spouse. He was there for his wife when the day was over, working late into the night in his study in the embassy. Those first few nights he'd spent with Chapel after the Pon Farr had been an aberration not the norm.
She'd often wished she'd never had them, because having been with him in such a normal way made her want more of that. Made the rest of the time difficult.
Like now might. Lying close like this, bodies sweaty but there was no rush for him to hit the shower. No need for her to skip over conversational topics since there wasn't time for them to talk about most things. She had him—really had him—for an entire day.
And then...?
"You are pensive."
"Things are changing." Jan was gone. Now this. "I love our joint missions."
He nodded.
She forced herself to focus on the good. On this soft bed and his warm skin. On the way he kissed her, as if he'd never tire of it. Of the sound of surf and birds. "Thank you for this."
"I know our situation is not optimal. I care for you. I want you to be happy."
"Happy. Such an emotional term." She grinned, showing him she was teasing.
He didn't respond and seemed unusually serious. "You are human. Emotions are critical to your well-being. Happiness is critical."
"No one is happy all the time. Happy moments may be the best we hope for. Contentment or satisfaction that one is making a difference fills the rest of the time, if you're lucky."
"Happiness is no longer a goal for you?" He was studying her carefully.
"I think I gave it up as a goal after Roger, after I got what I set out to get and found out it wasn't perfect, that it actually hurt."
He nodded; she'd told him of Roger's fidelity issues.
"I think I realized the kind of mindless happiness I'd been seeking was an unrealistic goal. Love, though. Love isn't." She touched his cheek. "And I love you so much. It's what gets me through the times I'm not with you."
"That you love me? Not that I love you?" His eyebrow went up.
"Weird, huh. But I think so much of how we feel, how we react, is based on what we bring to the table. If I didn't think loving you was worth it, if loving you didn't make me happy, you loving me would be irrelevant."
"Fascinating."
She laughed. Then she leaned in to kiss him. "Humans have a concept of soul mates. I'm sure Amanda's talked of it."
"Once or twice."
"Humans aspire to that. The twin to our souls. The one with whom we are complete."
He nodded thoughtfully. "Parted from me and never parted."
She knew he didn't mean it to hurt, the words he must have said to Amanda, but it did.
"I am sorry. That was thoughtless."
"No. That was just the truth. Is that what the bond is? A mating of souls—do Vulcans even have souls?"
"Not as such—we have katras."
She remembered him using the word when Spock died. "What is a katra?"
"It is our essence, our knowledge and experiences."
"Emotions?"
"Not usually." He studied her and seemed perplexed when she grinned. "What?"
"It's like a computer, then. Output. Results. Data collected."
He didn't seem insulted. "Very much so, yes. When a Vulcan experiences physical death, another Vulcan is there to capture the katra through a meld. The katra is brought back to Vulcan, and added to the stored knowledge of our people."
"Like downloading a data disk." She looked away. "So will you capture Amanda's katra?"
"I will try. But it has not been done before. Human death appears to be a different experience than Vulcan."
"Or at least the way the biological computer that is our mind experiences death is different."
"Far more accurate." He touched her nose with his, an amazingly sweet gesture he did when he felt particularly close to her. "Your mind, the way you process information, it...arouses me. And comforts me."
"Is that an overly wordy—and highly personalized—way of saying I could be Vulcan?"
He actually laughed, a short bark that didn't last long but made her chuckle. "Yes."
"Is Amanda your soul mate? I mean if Vulcans had soul mates?"
He didn't answer right away, then met her eyes. "If you had asked me that only a few years ago, I would have said yes. But now...now I am not sure."
"You don't have to say that. I know you love me. If it's not as much as you love her, that's all right. You have years with her, and a child—memories and history."
"This goes back, I think, to what you said earlier. What makes this different is not the way I love you or her. It is how you process the fact that I do love you. You believe it. I read frustration from you, yes, with our situation, but I never read doubt. You understand—and trust—the depth of my feelings."
She nodded.
"I do not know that Amanda has always trusted them. At times, she doubts."
"Even with the bond?"
"The bond is not a panacea. It can make relations worse, not better. We do not read each other's thoughts. We get...impressions. Emotional resonance. Fear, pain, happiness, sadness."
"Things that Vulcans traditionally do not value—given their absence in your death ritual with the katra." She leaned back and studied the ceiling. "And things Vulcans are uncomfortable experiencing, right? And sharing. At least some of the more negative ones. You don't seem stingy with lust or affection." She looked over at him and he nodded.
She shook her head. "It's so simple. To appropriately analyze Vulcan emotion one must do it from a stance of...stoicism. You can't be inside them—or if you are, you have to be able to separate."
"You are, at heart, a scientist, Christine. It is your nature to reserve a portion of yourself to observe."
"Yes." For some reason, she felt tears welling up. "I'm sad. That makes me sad, Sarek, and I'm not sure why. And I'm not sure if it's for me or for her."
"I do not wish you to be sad." He pulled her back to him and kissed her gently with soft, fleeting touches of his lips on hers, on her cheek, her throat, and then down. She thought he'd keep going past her chest, but instead he reached up for the meld points, easing in, opening up in a way he normally did not.
"I want you to feel this, not analyze it." She wasn't sure if he'd spoken or thought the words, he was taking them so deep.
It was like swimming in body-temperature water, in one of the sensory deprivation tanks, only here there was more than her own thoughts buffeting her.
Not just positive emotions. Sadness—he hated that she was taking this new job even if he was very proud of her accomplishments in attaining it and her new rank. Guilt, at how he could not give her more, at how he had to betray his wife to give her anything.
He was sharing, no filters, and she tried to let him know how much she treasured his openness. The transparency wouldn't last, couldn't last, but he was giving her a rare gift and she loved it.
He let them rise to a less intense meld, and then he made love to her. They called for room service so they wouldn't have to leave each other until the next day came and forced them to abandon the fantasy.
But she had it. The memory of the day. The memory of the meld. The love she felt whenever she was near him.
She had it. Some people spent a lifetime searching for it and never found it, not even with a long-term mate.
It was a rationalization. But she'd run with it as far as she could.
##
Chapel felt massively uncomfortable as she made her way through the crowd at the embassy. Amanda was enjoying a good period health wise and had thrown a party for Saavik, who was being assigned as first officer to the Manchester. Chapel had been surprised to get an invitation. Sarek had been equally surprised she'd been included in the guest list.
Not displeased—or at least she didn't think so. But surprised.
The invitation had said casual, so she'd slipped on a cotton dress she knew Sarek liked and then thrown a jacket over it in case casual meant something different when the Vulcan ambassador's wife wrote the invite.
She'd put less thought into her first dates with Roger than she did this. It was ridiculous. Especially since she and Amanda hadn't spoken much since she'd confronted her at the Pon Farr.
"Christine. So nice of you to join us." Amanda's voice dripped syrup. She looked good, if frail, and managed to stand very close to Sarek. She even touched his arm gently. "Aren't we glad to see her, my husband."
"Indeed." He shot her what looked like an apology and then nodded toward the side of the room. "Your former crewmates are here."
"Well, let me go say hello to them. It's a beautiful evening. Saavik must be so pleased."
"She's on the fast track. Our girl." Again she touched Sarek's arm. "I imagine she'll make lieutenant commander quite soon."
"Rapid rise."
"Well, you rose quickly, too, no?" There was something under the words, some veiled insult, but Chapel chose to ignore it. "Congratulations, by the way, on your promotion and new position. I imagine you won't travel very often in this job." Her look was pure innocence, the neutrality of the polite question for everyone who didn't know the real situation.
Sarek looked pained, even for a Vulcan. "My wife, we have other guests."
"We do." She leaned in and pulled Christine down to her in, making her feel awkward, and Amanda's lips grazed her cheek as she whispered, "I'm not dead yet, dear. Enjoy the party."
As she let her go, her expression was the same serene one she always wore, but Chapel could feel the malice—as if war had been declared.
And she felt something in her respond to the declaration, make her put her back up and say, "I will. Thank you," in as sweetly false a voice. She didn't look at Sarek as he pulled Amanda away.
"I am unsure why my mother invited you when it is clear she does not like you." Spock's voice was pitched low, and she realized he was leaning into her, his chest to her back, as if they were intimate friends.
She decided to go a route he might not expect. "I was surprised to be invited as well, Spock. But she's a human woman and we're unpredictable. You should know that by now."
He turned her away from her old crewmates, practically dragging her—in a totally understated way—to a corridor off the main area. "I have heard that you often travel with my father."
"I often travel with many people, Spock. It was the nature of my previous posting."
"But he asked for you by name. I have been dividing my time between the ship and diplomatic tasks. I have access to old missions. Who was requested, who was simply randomly assigned."
"Aren't you the detective?" She kept her voice even, her face as stoic as a Vulcan.
"I do not know if you are aware, but my mother was your champion for years. She wanted me to consider you as a romantic partner."
"That was kind of her."
His face changed; she thought she saw pure anger. "And yet you betray her."
"You have no idea what is going on, Spock. I admire your mother. I know how much she and your father care for each other. I would never hurt her."
"That is a lie."
"Sometimes an observer can see details in an experiment without understanding the overall landscape. They can make assumptions that are not valid. I would ask you not to do that in this case."
"But you admit that there is an experiment."
"I admit nothing."
His lips actually ticked up. "His influence on you is clear. I almost feel as if I am debating him."
She thought he'd chosen the word "feel" on purpose.
"Feel this." She put her hand on his wrist, where his robe didn't cover the skin, and waited.
He met her eyes, confusion clear in his. She swallowed hard, and knew that one thing he'd be reading was some measure of regret that lingered that she'd chosen this path and not the one he'd offered so long ago.
"The experiment is very complicated, Spock. Please do not assume I am the enemy."
She thought he would jerk away from her hand, but he didn't. Confusion was replaced with...pity? He felt sorry for her?
He eased away and said, "I will let you talk to our friends. Be sure to introduce yourself to Saavik. Good evening, Christine." All was gently said, but she had the feeling he couldn't wait to get away from her—and the utter mess of emotions she'd laid on him.
She saw him glance at his parents, and move away, toward Saavik, whose eyes lit up as she saw him.
Uncomplicated, the feelings Chapel saw on the younger woman's face. Admiration, regard, ease. She loved Spock, and from the look of it, he loved her back in some fashion.
She saw Sarek glance over at her. The way he dipped his head was a clear question: "Are you all right? Did he upset you?"
She smiled, trying to make it a genuine expression, and turned to go say hello to her friends.
##
Chapel realized someone was standing at her door, studying her, and looked up to see Kirk. "Hello."
"Hello, Captain."
It felt so strange coming from him. "I know. I know. I didn't earn it. But thanks."
He frowned as he came in and sat down. "Plenty of Fleeters make the rank without ever having captained a ship. You work here, doing this hellacious job. Meaning people like me never have to. So thank you. I'd give you two promotions if I could." He grinned in a way that told her she meant it. "Don't ever say that again. Starfleet promoted you. Enjoy it."
"They also promoted Styles to admiral."
"Yes, but they took his ship away and gave it to Sulu. And assigned Styles to run a backwater Starbase where he'll probably be till he retires. You, my dear, are sitting in the heart of Command. Many people know your name. Not that there aren't many who know his, but yours they know in a good way."
She laughed. "Okay, okay, geez. And thanks. I will never say I didn't earn it again."
"Good."
"So what's the occasion, Jim?" It was still so strange to use his name, to think of him as a friend and not just the captain who'd been so good to her.
"Well, it's strange. Spock thought I should take you out to celebrate your promotion."
"Spock thought that?"
"Yeah."
"You mean like a bunch of you taking me out?"
"Nope. Just me. You didn't happen to tell him you're madly in love with me while you were having your little heart-to-heart at Saavik's party, did you? Because that's not what it looked like to me. But earlier today he spent a good portion of our breakfast conversation pointing out how you are—and I'm not sure why it took him to make me realize this—exactly my type. And I'm yours. Sort of." He looked embarrassed at the last bit, as if he was assuming too much.
"Are you asking me out?"
"Maybe." He leaned back. "But I also want to know why, after all these years, he suddenly thinks I should."
"I have no idea." But she did, of course. Did Spock think he was saving her—or was he protecting his mother? Or did he think he was doing both: win, win. Win, win, win if his friend also found happiness in the process.
"We're heading back out tomorrow night."
"Oh. Did you mean tonight?"
He started to laugh. "You know, Chapel, I used to think I was good at this. But wow, I'm certainly not living up to my rep, am I? Yeah, I meant tonight, which I know is very short notice, so just tell me you're busy and we'll do it another night." He seemed to be studying her. "Or you can forget I ever asked."
"Can we have steak?"
"We can have steak in Buenos Aires, if you want. I'm a man with many credits."
"I'm on call," she said, laughing at his grin, his openness, and the idea of being out in public with someone who wanted her company. "So I have to stay in the city."
"Martino's, then? They're very hard to get into and have amazing beef."
"Perfect. I get off around seven usually."
"I'll pick you up at seven forty-five."
"Shouldn't you see if they have a table for us first?"
"Oh, ye of little faith." His grin was infectious as he pulled out his comm unit. "Bennie, buon giorno, my friend. I have a lady I'd like to impress. What are the odds for tonight? Say, eight or so." He stuck his tongue out at her. "You can? Oh, you're my hero. I may happen to have some of those Dixren cigars you like so much. You bet. Thanks." He cut the connection. "I wish we'd had a bet on that. Would have been like taking candy from a baby. Wear something you can dance in."
"Oh, we're dancing, are we?"
He stood up and shrugged. At the door, he turned and said, "Play your cards right, toots. You never know."
She pretended to throw something at him. He pretended to duck and mouthed, "Missed me."
Then he was gone.
She actually left work a little earlier than seven and took her time getting ready, nice make-up, pretty hair, fancy dress. Shoes that were comfortable enough to dance in but still looked nice.
All things she never bothered with for Sarek anymore. He came, he undressed her, they screwed and then lay around in bed talking, maybe called out for dinner, and he left.
Jim rang the door on time and whistled as she gave a little spin. "The lady cleans up oh so nicely."
"So does the gentleman."
He took her arm and led her down to a waiting flitter. The ride to the restaurant was short, they got drinks at the bar, talked easily as they waited for their table, and she enjoyed the hell out of being a carnivore with no judgment from her partner.
The tables were placed around a dance floor that was empty, but a band filed in and started to set up. How long had it been since she danced? She realized Kirk was studying her. "What?"
"What's wrong?"
"What do you mean what's wrong? I'm with a handsome man, I've had an amazing meal, and I'm going to dance soon, right?"
"In all the years I've known Spock, he's pushed a woman on me exactly once. I got the feeling you were in some kind of trouble."
"I just got promoted."
"In your personal life, Chris."
"I don't have a personal life, Jim. Why do you think I'm having so much fun with you?" She realized that could be taken as an insult, like there was such a low bar anyone would do. "Let me rephrase that."
He laughed. "Yes. Please."
"I work. I go home. I go to work. I go home. You see a pattern?" It wasn't a lie. She was just leaving out that sometimes Sarek was at her apartment. Besides, having sex didn't equal having a social life. "Ny's with you, Jan's with Sulu, and I'm apparently really shitty at making new friends. The kind you spend time with outside of an Ops happy hour, anyway. I have lots of those kinds of friends."
"This doesn't add up. I mean okay, what you say squares with what I hear from Matt. But Spock usually—"
"Spock was probably afraid I was desperate enough to go after him again." She stood. "I'm going to go powder my nose. Please find a new theme by the time I get back, okay?"
"Okay." He didn't look any more convinced than before, but she had the feeling he'd drop it.
For now.
The band was playing by the time she got back, and he led her out to the dance floor. It took a moment for them to find their rhythm—it really had been ages since she'd danced—but they did eventually, and then it was just nice. And simple. Music, two people, floating across the dance floor, his skin on hers, his lips on her neck.
She didn't move and was afraid to look at him because she'd want to kiss him—or let him kiss her. He eased away and asked softly, "Did I overstep?"
"No. But for now, can we just dance?" She didn't want the moment to end, didn't want to go back to her apartment.
"Yes, we can." He let them dance in silence for a bit, then said, "Chris, I know you're not all right. You can tell me anything, okay?"
She was surprised Spock hadn't told him. But maybe he was counting on Jim's sweet concern being the jolt she needed to get the hell out of his parents' life. Concern that was all the more effective for being intuitive rather than pre-briefed.
"Just dance, Jim." She moved closer and he sighed but let it go.
On the ride back to her apartment, he held her hand. He let the flitter go at her apartment, and at her look said, "It's a nice night. I'll walk back to Command."
She should have let him do just that but instead murmured, "Nightcap?"
"Okay." He took her hand and led her into the building. In the lift, he was quiet, and followed her to her door. Once inside, he went immediately to the balcony and just stood.
"Hell of a view, isn't it? Even for someone who prefers the starstream at warp out his windows."
"It's gorgeous." He pulled her to him. "I really like you. We've known each other for years, circled around, never got here."
She nodded.
"I like it here."
"I do, too."
He leaned in slowly, and she knew he was taking his time so she could stop him. So she could move away and not let his lips touch down on hers, not open her mouth to his, not moan as he let his hands roam.
Sarek had never kissed her on this balcony. It wasn't terribly private. Someone might see. Discretion and all that.
Kirk pulled away. Then he frowned and wiped away a tear she didn't realize she'd shed. "Who is he?"
"I can't. Jim, I can't."
He let her go and moved into the living room. She followed him, shutting the door, locking the beautiful night away.
"Here's my problem, Chris. If I think too hard about this, there's only one man that Spock would actively try to keep you away from. If it's that man, then this isn't a good road you're on, and he's right: you're in trouble. More importantly, you deserve better."
"I can't talk about this." Her voice was barely a whisper. "I trust you. I do. I wish I could tell you everything. But I can't." She saw him react, as if he thought she was being forced. "Not can't—I won't. I choose not to. I don't want to. I love him." There, it was out. No names, no details, but she loved someone else and had gone out with him anyway.
He moved closer and took her by the shoulders. "You don't have to tell me. But if you ever need my help, you know where I am."
She nodded and pulled him into a hug, holding onto him almost frantically. "I wish..." So many things to wish. So many goddamn things. And she would tell him none of them.
He waited, then he let her go. "I wish, too." With a sad smile, he left her alone.
##
She lay half under Sarek, feeling a little—owned. He'd been fierce, pounding her in a way that wasn't normal.
"I'm not sure I like this new you." She tried to squirm free, but he leaned harder on her. "What's with the he-man routine?" No way it was the Pon Farr again.
"Can I not take you as I wish?"
"Not if it makes me feel like you're just doing to me what you can't do to Amanda any longer. I like to feel primary, not proxy—at least for the moments we're in bed."
"Primary. Is that why you were with another man?"
"With?"
"My son told me of your evening with Kirk."
"He did, did he? You and Spock never talk and suddenly he's telling you about my evening with his friend? Oh for God's sake, Sarek, he's figured out we're together. And he doesn't like it. This is...this is interference. Nothing more."
"So you are saying he was lying? You were not with Kirk?"
"I was. But it was nothing. It was just dinner."
"And dancing afterward, is that not so?"
Jesus, Spock sure was a gabber; she wondered how Jim had felt about getting the third degree. Or had Spock followed them? Had he watched to see if his big plan would work?
Could this get any more fucked up?
"Did you dance with him, Christine? It is a simple question."
"I did. It was innocent. I like to dance and so does he. You don't. You don't dance with me even when we're here alone."
"Vulcans do not dance."
"I know. I'm fine with it. But I was with him and we were having fun and there was dancing. So fucking what?"
"Dancing is a prelude to sex."
"Is that Spock talking or you?" She wrenched herself free and scurried out of the bed, not willing to have this conversation from beneath him. "And I'm sorry but do you or do you not sleep with another woman every fucking night? Do you eat with her and travel with her and do, well, every little thing you want to with her? It was one fucking meal. And some dancing. Get over it. I have the right to have a social life if you can't give me one."
"Did he kiss you?"
"Do you kiss her?"
For the first time, she saw pure rage on Sarek's face. "So that is a yes?"
"Gosh, it's too bad we're not bonded. Then you'd just know." She stood, shaking with anger she'd held in for too long. She wanted to say more; she wanted to unload, but it suddenly occurred to her that Amanda would be feeling his rage—and would know it was at her. That if she hurt him, Amanda would know that, too.
Did nothing between her and Sarek belong just to them? Did his wife have to be privy to every goddamn thing?
"I think you should go." She backed up until she felt the wall at her back and slid, sitting naked on the floor with her knees drawn up, her arms clasped around them. "Just go."
He seemed to realize how shaken she was. "Christine." He was out of bed and to her quickly, kneeling next to her, pulling her to him. "I am sorry."
"He did kiss me. I didn't kiss him back, not the way I would have if I wasn't in love with you. He knew my heart wasn't in it. He backed off because he's a good man. I just let him go." She met his eyes. "He'd be there for me. He'd find a way to get me on his ship, I know he would. We'd have a life, not just stolen moments. Why did I let him go?" She tried to hold back the tears; they were useless. This was what it was.
He pulled her closer, until she was on his lap, legs wrapped around him, and he held her as she cried. "Perhaps you should find him, tell him the truth—or some portion of it. See if...see if he is what you want."
She could tell it cost him to say it; there was no meld but she felt his pain nevertheless. "I don't want him. I want you."
They sat that way for a long time; she wasn't sure he'd ever held her more tightly. He finally pushed her up, made her get into bed, and pulled the covers over her gently. He stared down at her, his look open and hurting. "I wish that I could give you up."
A nod was the only answer she could give him—what more was there to say? She didn't want to leave him and he didn't want to let her go.
He leaned down and kissed her, tenderly, possessively, his hands roaming in a way that said, "Mine, mine, mine."
Then he walked away and once she heard the door close, she turned on her side and cried herself to sleep.
##
The sun beat down on her and she heard Jan laughing at something Sulu was doing. Then they both came running to the towels, dripping water all over her.
"I'm gonna get us some refills," he said and hopped up and headed toward the bar.
Jan was watching him go in an entirely different way than she ever had before.
"Janice Rand, are you with him?"
A grin was her only answer.
"Is that why you included me on this oh so nice weekend at the beach? So I could witness true happiness?" She mock slugged her.
"No. I mean yes, I'm with Hikaru, but no, that's not why you're here." Jan's smile faded. "I ran into a certain captain we both know. He said you were missing me. Are you and he...?" She sounded hopeful, not mad.
Chapel just shook her head. "Spock tried to set us up."
"I think that's going to be a really long story that requires way more alcohol than Hikaru will be carrying back here."
Chapel laughed, feeling herself relax: Jan knew. She knew and she liked her anyway.
Jan studied her. "Are you still with...?"
Chapel nodded.
"Gotta tell ya. I don't get the whole Vulcan thing when you could have James T. Kirk." She rolled her eyes and made the "you're crazy" finger-whirl.
Chapel laughed again. "I guess that's why Ny commed the other night and made plans for the next time the Enterprise is back. He must have told her the same thing. He's worried about me."
"I'm worried about you. You don't seem happy anymore, Christine. Not even a little."
"It's bad right now. I won't lie. I mean even the hottest relationship cools off over time. But you replace that with other things you share. This situation isn't conducive to shared things."
"Which is an excellent reason to get out of it."
She nodded, but slipped on her sunglasses so Jan couldn't see her eyes.
"Okay, enough of that. I brought you with us to have some fun, Chapel."
"Didn't Sulu wonder why I was coming along?"
"Nope. He understands how important friends are. Besides, he still wants you on the ship." She winked. "I'm surprised he hasn't tried to recruit you yet."'
"Thank you for caring."
"All part of being a friend." Jan laughed and handed her the sunblock. "Now you can repay me. Do my back. I never can reach."
"I'm surprised your boy didn't do it for you."
"He was going to, but he got distracted." Jan shot her an innocent look, then busted up laughing. "God, I'm so happy with him I'm giddy."
"I'm thrilled for you, Jan. I really am. One of us needs to be giddy."
"I'm happy to volunteer." She gently pulled the sunglasses from Chapel's face. "And don't hide your feelings. You know I hate that."
##
Chapel was hurrying to get home. Sarek was going to try to stop by and she'd been held up by a last minute personnel crisis—real crises she could deal, with but two people who couldn't put their beefs aside long enough to deal with an emergency were a waste of her time. She'd spent the last hour writing up the disciplinary reports for the two officers and one of them—if not both—were getting transferred out of Ops as soon as she had a moment to spare for reassignments. In the meantime, she'd told their team leads to make sure they weren't scheduled on the same shifts.
The problem with Ops, with the pace and the constant need to be "on" or other people might die, was that normally competent officers didn't always thrive in the environment. Stupid, petty shit like this happened as stress increased. That said, it didn't surprise her that both officers had been "suggested acquisitions." Meaning neither had been picked up on their own merits but had someone in the brass pulling for them.
She hated that. She could say "No" if she really felt strongly but the amount of goodwill she'd lose was often not worth it. Her ability to take no prisoners—and speak her mind to whomever she wanted to—required a solid base of admirals who had her back. That required compromise sometimes.
And compromise led to crap like this.
"Captain Chapel." A woman's voice. Not one she recognized. She turned and saw a young Vulcan woman standing with Spock. "Lieutenant Valeris, ma'am."
She expected a glare from Spock, but he merely nodded and said, "Valeris, the captain is clearly in a hurry. We should be going."
"Nonsense, Spock." Valeris moved closer. "Admiral Cartwright speaks highly of you."
This girl knew Matthew? What did she want? A commendation? "That's nice."
"I mean, he considers you a kindred intellect." She seemed to be waiting for something.
"And I consider him a mentor. What's your point, Lieutenant?" Damn it all. She was going to miss Sarek at this rate. How long would he wait in her apartment? Amanda was more and more demanding of his time.
She glanced at Spock. Why had he brought this woman to her?
He made a gesture that conveyed he was as mystified as she at Valeris's interest in her.
"Spock was right, lieutenant. I'm on my way out."
Valeris back away, a puzzled look on her face, as if she'd made some kind of mistake. "I apologize for keeping you. Please, have a pleasant evening." She turned and walked away.
"Nice girl. Little intense."
"She is normally quite adept with humans." He met Chapel's gaze frankly. "I can imagine why you are hurrying."
"I'm sure you can. I don't care."
His lips tightened.
"I know you tried. I know you care." Although possibly not about her, but she was trying to get him to go, so a fight didn't seem the best route. "It means the world. Now, let me by."
He moved aside without another word.
Once she was outside, she commed Sarek, hoping he was still at her place.
"Where are you?" He sounded impatient enough that she knew his time would be short again.
"On my way. Just...just don't go before I get there. Okay?" God, she was so sick of always rushing to see him and then never getting enough time. Just once she'd like to go to dinner or hell, have a pizza delivered and shoot the shit with no constraint on their time together.
She wanted to go to bed with him and wake up to morning sex and breakfast and the knowledge that he was hers.
She took a deep breath. She couldn't let Spock rattle her. This was what it was. It was up to her to enjoy the time she had with Sarek. No matter how short.
She hailed a flitter and told it to hurry, which was stupid. They maintained a speed appropriate to the conditions and amount of traffic. She couldn't make the elevator in her building go any faster, either. And by the time she hit her floor, she was peeved enough that she took her time.
And this was the other thing that happened. She wanted to see him so badly that sometimes she was a bitch when she finally did. She stopped and took a few seconds to breathe deeply and employ the relaxation techniques she'd been taught when she'd first joined Ops.
They sort of worked.
Sarek was on the balcony when she walked in. It was a beautiful night; she'd barely noticed in her rush to get home.
He looked up and his expression changed to a tender one. He held his hand out and she took it, and he pulled her to him, holding her in a way that anyone watching would be able to see was way more than collegial.
"We're not really in private." But she cuddled into him, holding tightly, relishing the feeling of his lips on her neck. Then discretion overruled neediness, and she eased away, pulling him back into the apartment and closing the door and blinds.
"I cannot stay long," he murmured as he followed her into the bedroom.
"When can you?" she wanted to say, but didn't.
##
Chapel felt like she was playing hooky from school. It was four in the afternoon and she'd left Ops early and was in her favorite wine shop, looking for something special for tonight.
How many times did a girl turn fifty? And Sarek was coming over. He'd cleared his schedule for her.
Earlier, the team in Ops had brought in cake with black icing and served a nearly black dessert wine someone had picked up on a mission and known would be perfect for the occasion.
It made her feel special. That they cared.
She turned down a corner, looking at the sparkling wines, when she heard, "May I help you find something?"
It was the clerk she liked best. Perfect. "Andrew, hello. I need something really nice. It's my fiftieth birthday and I'm celebrating with someone special."
"Ah, well, let's see what we can find." He grinned at her and started making suggestions. "So, is this a romantic someone special?"
"Yes."
"Vixen." He winked at her as he handed her a bottle. "I suggest this one. It's often overlooked but the taste is sublime."
"Perfect."
"And we have the Vermouth you like back in."
"This day couldn't be better." She headed to the aisle where the fortified wines were.
And ran right into Amanda, who was standing very straight, wearing a smile that had to be fake. "Fiftieth? That's a special one. A milestone one."
She could feel herself bristling but forced herself to smile. She hadn't missed that Amanda was not wishing her happy birthday.
"How are you feeling?" she said.
Amanda's expression changed, the pretend smile fading. "Not terribly well but I've had worse days. Does that make you feel good, dear? Reminding me that I'm sick and you're not?"
"I was just asking how you were." Or not. Why pretend anymore? Why pretend that they liked each other?
Maybe once they did. But now, this woman's husband stood between them both.
"I'll let you shop," Chapel said and turned away, walking briskly to the counter, making small talk with Andrew but not talking about her evening, not now that Amanda could hear every word.
When she turned to go, Amanda was gone.
She felt regret; she hated that things were ugly now. She hated most everything about being with Sarek except actually being with Sarek.
But tonight was her night and she'd get him for a while and they'd celebrate the hell out of her turning fifty—or at least she would—and everything would be okay. Amanda had him the rest of the time.
She walked home leisurely, picking up flowers from a vendor, stopping to get some of Sarek's favorite cheese.
She took a long bath, and spent time on her hair and make-up. A new dress he'd never seen finished her preparations. It was a lovely wine color and flattered without trying too hard.
And then she waited.
And waited.
And waited.
The more she paced, the angrier she got. When Sarek finally palmed himself in, she turned and stared at him.
"I am sorry. Amanda need—"
"Amanda knows it's my fucking birthday. So tell me, what could she possibly have needed? I saw her in the wine shop today. It's a good period. She's walking, talking—picking fights."
He closed his eyes and nodded. He looked immeasurably weary—and angry, too. But not at her, she could tell. But did it matter? It was her fucking birthday and this was what she was getting: recriminations and anger and another night where she'd be watching the clock, triaging things she wanted to tell him by criticality—what could wait, what needed to be said.
"You look beautiful," he said, clearly trying to get them to safer ground. Ever the fucking diplomat.
"I should. I took off early. I primped and everything. I should look like a goddamn beauty queen. And then I waited. For three fucking hours."
He took a deep breath.
Chapel imagined the satisfaction Amanda must be feeling if any of Sarek's emotions were leaking through the bond.
"She wanted to keep you away. She set this whole fucking affair up and now she wants to keep you away."
"She is jealous. It is a natural human reaction."
"Oh, so she gets cut slack? What about me? I'm human, too, Sarek. I have emotions too, or have you goddamn forgotten?" She moved closer to him, and he actually took a step back, which just made her madder. "You know, I'd forgotten how much I hate this. The hiding. The waiting—with no recourse this time unlike when I could at least comm Roger and pretend there was an issue in the lab."
"I agree it's not optimal."
"Stop saying that. Like we're a machine not performing to its highest potential. We're not machines. We're people and we feel and at this point, I'm just reacting. Your wife is calling the goddamn shots in this." This was light years worse than hiding the relationship had been with Roger. Mistresses weren't allowed to call. Were expected to just sit and wait.
But for how long? For fucking ever? Until a woman she used to like and admire finally died?
She was living her life waiting for someone to die.
"I can't do this," she said into the silence. She turned to look at Sarek and saw no hint of surprise. "I love you—more than I have every loved anyone—but I can't do this anymore."
He nodded as he took a step toward her.
"There are positions far away. Not on ships, where we'll cross paths. But on worlds that don't need diplomatic assistance. I could to go back to helping people. Be a doctor. Stop living this life." She waved her hand around the apartment, trying to let him know she meant more than just him: she meant Ops and the hours and the interminable crises and the deaths and having to live with nothing but uncertainty.
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
He held his arms open and she went in, not crying—what was the use? How many times would she cry over him?
He took a deep breath as he held her tightly. "She knows that I love you. I cannot hide it from her."
"But you love her, too. She has to know that."
"I believe how I feel about you matters far more to her at this stage than how I feel about her." He stroked her hair with exquisite tenderness, as if he was doing it for the last time. "I will support whatever you choose. But I will...miss you greatly if you go."
"I'll miss you, too." She lifted her face to his and was rewarded with a sweeter kiss than she thought he'd ever given her. "I'm sorry."
"Do not be. I realize this situation is untenable. That it has endured as long as it has is a testament to you." He reached into the pocket of his robe and pulled out a small box. "Happy birthday."
She started to laugh—somewhat hysterically—and dialed it back before she completely lost it. "Vulcans don't celebrate birthdays."
"Vulcans involved with humans tend to." His eyes were gentle. "Also, it is more than just a birthday gift. It is, if you want it to be, a promise."
She opened the box. A gorgeous ring. Nothing ostentatious. Just a band, but carved in a way that made it sparkle as if it was loaded with diamonds. "Are you asking me to wait for you?"
"No. Do whatever you wish. Be with whomever you wish. But, if you want me to, I will come for you once this can be more than a promise." He sounded as if he was not sure she would want that.
"Yes," she whispered. No human would have heard her, but Sarek took the ring from her and slid it onto her finger.
It was a perfect fit.
"When will you leave?" he asked, and emotion seemed to make his voice crack.
"Not tonight. Not for a while. There are things to arrange. I'm not fleeing, Sarek. I want to leave for a good posting, not just the first one that will get me out of here." She wasn't going to end up with another Danube ever again.
"Understood." He seemed unsure whether to stay or go. He was so unflappable normally, it touched her deeply to see him so off balance.
She took his hand and pulled him with her into the bedroom. As she eased his robe off, she said, "We have time. To say proper goodbyes. Many of them, even."
"I am grateful for that."
She thought he would take her hard, the way he did when he wanted to claim her. But he was tender and gentle—and expressive. So many things he told her, so many things to hold onto.
He was a master diplomat—he would know what she wanted to hear. He would know what might keep her waiting.
Even if all of it was true—and she believed it was—she knew that. He would play her to the end to keep her.
But she didn't care. It was nice hearing him so open, so free with how he would feel once she was gone.
She knew he wouldn't take another lover. Somewhere, deep in her soul, she knew that.
He turned the lights off and pulled the covers over them.
"Don't you have to go?" she whispered, not wanting to ask but also not wanting to wake up and find him gone.
"Yes, but I do not care. You are leaving me."
He woke her when the sun began to come up. She was late reporting for duty. So was he.
He spent every night with her as she made plans to transition out, was with her when she located a promising billet on a lovely world far from Earth—and Vulcan. A medical center, but not a medical billet—she'd be running the place.
He seemed very proud of her, told her so frequently, as he lay in her bed, his breath tickling her ear.
She thought he was defying Amanda to spend so much time with her—although he was still discreet. They stayed in, and she tried not to think of her apartment as a prison, especially not with him in it with her. She loved that he was willing to risk something—even if it was just his wife's good will—to be with her.
She let herself enjoy having so much of him—even if the reason behind this sudden access was a sad one.
She didn't say goodbye to Amanda before she shipped out. What would have been the point? The woman had won.
For now.