Part 4
The medical center on Dalutia was busier than she'd expected. She'd thought that leaving Ops would be an adjustment. That she'd have to get used to a much slower—possibly boring—pace. But the center was a hub for newly developed tech and procedures, and it served as the trauma unit for a large portion of the quadrant. She spent her first week just trying to learn the acronyms used by the staff—like any place, the center had its own lingo.
She spent her second catching up on all the things she'd fallen behind on when she was learning the lingo.
She spent the third week observing in each of the departments. It was amazing to feel the thrill that came from helping people. Not that Ops didn't help—it was the place's raison d'etre, after all—but the assistance was on a larger scale. This was about individuals. These were the stories that touched people's hearts, that non-profits used to garner more funding for further research into bigger and brighter tech to make more stirring stories of healing.
In her fourth week, during a lunch wolfed down at her desk between meetings, Sarek commed.
She could have ignored the call—probably should have—but she picked it up.
His face filled her terminal, and she couldn't hold back a smile she knew was luminous. She'd missed him. So much.
But she'd also left him. "You do realize this is counter to the 'I can't do this anymore' concept, right?"
He actually frowned. "I cannot comm you?"
"Of course you can. If it's important. But I don't want to trade never seeing you except for sex to never seeing you except for on a terminal."
He nodded, his mouth tight.
"Sarek, cut me some slack here. I'm trying to make a life. I miss you, but this"—she pointed to his face on her terminal—"only makes not having you worse."
His jaw eased and his look changed to one of satisfaction. She realized he was staring at her hand. "You wear my ring."
"It's beautiful. Of course I wear it."
"You did not wear a ring before."
"You're familiar with the concept of a ring avulsion, yes? Jewelry and emergencies rarely go well together."
He shook his head. "Even after. When you were not travelling. You wore no rings." His look dared her to find a counter for that.
"Fine. I'm wearing your ring." She leaned in. "Are you all right?"
"I miss you."
She smiled gently. "I'm sorry." She traced his face on the screen. "I really am serious. You can't be calling me just to shoot the shit."
"I have lost more than a sexual partner with your absence, Christine. I have lost a very dear friend."
It was sweet of him to couch it in such human terms. It was also possibly very manipulative because he knew she'd respond to it. "I'm sorry for that. But that's not my worry. You get that, right?"
At the look of annoyance that flashed across his face, she knew he'd been trying to reel her back in using whatever means necessary. "You are resolved to remain separate?"
"Yes. That was the whole point of moving very far away. You were fine with it."
"I was not fine with it. I was attempting to behave in a mature way."
"And I appreciate that. So keep doing it. I haven't abandoned you. But I can't live like we were and keep my sanity. You expect me to wait for you; I expect you to give me space while I do."
"I don't expect anything of you. You are a free agent." Something in his face changed and she realized he was fishing.
"I am a free agent. Thank you for realizing that." She'd be damned if she was going to explain her social life—or lack thereof—to him.
Not that she hadn't been invited to many dinners from her staff. But so far no one had hit her up for a date, which was fine with her.
She leaned in. "I love you, Sarek. If you need me, I'm here. But don't do a casual call again. Got it?"
He clearly did not like having terms dictated to him, but he nodded. He cut the connection without saying he loved her.
She didn't hold it against him. She'd outplayed the master diplomat. It was bound to sting.
##
She expected to see Len at the medical conference on Starbase Seventeen; she didn't expect to see Kirk. His smile was wary, his eyes not so warm as last time, and his hug was quick, as if he had to embrace her but would have preferred not to.
"You a doctor now, Jim?" She used his name almost to spite him; she wasn't sure why he was being so distant.
"No. Morrow wanted to see me and we were both close to this starbase. He's retiring." He said it more to Len than her. Then he met her eyes. "Matt's taking his place."
"Wow. I know he wanted the job, but he didn't think he'd ever get it."
"Well, he did." He held up his glass. "To absent friends."
"Especially absent friends who show up at medical conferences that would otherwise have been boring," Len said, clinking his bourbon against her wineglass. He downed the drink and said, "Listen, I hate to deprive you two of my company for even a moment, but the moderator for tomorrow's panel wants to meet with me. I'll be back in a jiffy. Don't give my seat away." He slid off his barstool and hurried out.
"So," Kirk said, swirling his scotch in the glass, not looking at her. "You left."
"I left Ops. Yes."
"And I guess you left other things."
"Other things did not come to Dalutia with me, ergo..."
He nodded but didn't say anything and she could tell he realized she really hadn't answered his question. The empty barstool between them seemed like a chasm.
"Did I do something? Other than not be as interested as you would have liked?" It was harsh, but he was pissing her off with his suddenly hands-off approach.
"Funny." He laughed, the fake laugh he'd used on her whenever he was trying to get out of a physical. Then his expression turned grim. "Spock just found out his mother is very sick—dying, in fact. Apparently it's a condition she's had for some time and managed to hide it from him." He held her eyes, his like lasers. "But you knew, didn't you? You're a doctor, after all."
She could feel a contrariness rising in her, but also hurt. Why was he attacking her? "Sarek told me. I didn't figure it out on my own." But she might have. If she'd been given to spending quality time alone with Amanda prior to becoming close to Sarek.
"That changes the story even more, then, doesn't it?"
She didn't answer. What did he want her to say?
"You know"—he leaned in—"I used to think T'Pring was so strategic it was terrifying. But you...you may have her beat."
"That's not fair, Jim. T'Pring used you and I never did." She could see he was surprised she knew what had happened. The holy trinity had shut her out of that, but did he really think Sarek wouldn't have told her what went on—why her captain had come back seemingly dead, why Spock had been so happy to see he wasn't? "What happened—it wasn't something I planned or Sarek planned."
She wanted to tell him if anyone planned what had happened, it was the paragon of virtue he was so intent on defending. But she didn't say that because this was none of his fucking business. "It just happened." She took a long sip of her wine and didn't look away from him, daring him to make her the villain even more, daring him to pay her back for...for what? Not fucking him? On the first goddamn date?
He looked at her hand, at the ring she wore—Sarek's ring. Sarek's promise. "That looks Vulcan."
"It was a birthday gift."
He just shook his head. "Are you waiting for her to die? To clear the way? Are you already engaged?"
"Wrong hand."
"That's not an answer."
"Maybe."
"Maybe?" He laughed, the sound one of disbelief. "What? Unless something better comes along?"
"Well, isn't that how love works? How life does? We take or we wait, and yes, we see what else comes along." Even if she was shutting down anyone who wanted to get too close. Was that bad? She knew what she wanted. She was willing to wait for it. "Why? Did you want to give seducing me another try?" She loaded as much disdain as she could into her voice.
He threw back the scotch and slid off the barstool. "Tell Bones I had a headache."
She reached out, suddenly sorry. "Jim, please, don't hate me."
"I don't hate you, Chris. I just...I just wish I didn't know who you really are."
He turned and walked away.
She was debating whether to stay or not when Len came back. "Where's Jim?"
"Headache."
"Hmmm."
"You have something to say about that?" Her tone was slightly hysterical.
He didn't seem to notice. "He hardly ever gets headaches. Must've seen a woman he wanted to talk to." He grinned. "More time for us to catch up. So, how's Dalutia? Your med center got the best ranking in the quadrant for trauma, did you know that?"
"I did know that, Len. We're trying to raise the rating even higher. We've got some amazing new tech coming on line."
"Oooh, I love it when you talk medical. Go on."
She laughed, suddenly very grateful for his easy way with her after so long not seeing each other. "I love you," she said.
"I love you, too, 'hon. But if a spontaneous declaration of affection is your way of keeping medical breakthroughs on the hush hush, it's not going to distract me. I've heard about a regenerator process being tested in your radiation unit that makes the one we use now look like it was developed in the Stone Age. So spill."
It wasn't really a secret, so she told him all about it. Glad to not have to hold back. Glad to not have to lie.
Glad to spend time with a friend who didn't know all her tawdry little secrets.
##
She watched as the Khitomer Peace Conference footage played out again on the med center screens.
"You know them?" Nurse Carter asked, her tone full of worship.
"I do. Not surprised they're saving the day again." She watched Kirk, Spock, Len, and that Vulcan girl, Valeris, who'd looked at her with such recognition—had she thought Matt had recruited Chapel, too?
But Chapel forgot about Valeris and her former shipmates when she saw Sarek, standing alone, and she could feel her heart beat faster.
She played with his ring as she watched him. She told anyone who asked about it that it was a sentimental favorite. It was sparkly enough that it might be a cocktail band, not one that meant she was taken.
Since she wasn't. Not as far as anyone here knew.
Once she got back to her apartment, she replayed the footage over and over, watching him, even though he barely moved, laughing at his almost grudging applause for his son and Kirk. Remembering what it felt like to be touched by him.
Sorry that she'd had to tell him to stop calling her. He'd taken her at her word and hadn't called in the many months since.
She missed talking to him, his gentle wit, the tender way he looked at her—and the not so tender ways, too. But she'd been right to make him stop. She'd never have been able to move on—or at least find a sort of happiness here—if she was still thinking of him as present in her life.
Her chime went off and she jumped. Shit. She'd forgotten she'd said she'd go to a barbeque with one of her section chiefs.
She opened the door and saw Gus standing there, older than she but still handsome. His smile warm and open and very human. He was a civilian, technically part of her team but he reported to the civilian chief of staff so there was little conflict spending time with him outside of work.
"Hello there," he said, his voice gentle and full of humor.
"Hello." She moved to let him in.
"Tell me you didn't forget Landa's shindig tonight?" He grinned in his "no harm, no foul, but go get ready" way. He wouldn't smile in quite the same way when they parted in the morning. Sex with him was fun, and she'd been clear with him that she wasn't looking for anything serious. That she'd just extricated herself from something heavy. No details, of course.
But still he seemed to think he could change her mind about that. Could make her love him. Make her want to settle down.
"I did forget. Sorry—got all caught up in this." She turned off the vid player.
"Pretty wild, huh?" He nodded toward the now blank screen. "Traitors in Starfleet working with Klingons and Romulans."
"One of them was my boss." The perfect way to explain her fixation. "And my former shipmates stopped him." And yet another way.
"You travelled in interesting circles. This place must seem so dull."
"Quiet doesn't have to equal dull." Even if, in this case, it sometimes did now that she was comfortable in her job. "Let me go get ready. I'll just be a second."
He didn't call her on how "a second" was inaccurate or overly optimistic the way Sarek would have. He just nodded and headed for her chiller. She had his favorite beer stocked. That, at least, she could give him.
##
Chapel sat staring at the headline that ran over every news outlet. "Captain Kirk dead saving new Enterprise."
She hadn't seen him since the coverage of Khitomer, hadn't interacted with him since the medical conference.
A string of comms came into her personal unit: from Jan, Ny, Len.
Not from Spock. Not surprising.
Not from Sarek, either. He probably was wondering, though, if he should comm her, if he should make sure she was all right, now that the closest thing he'd ever had to a rival was dead.
She worked through the afternoon, then headed to her favorite bar.
The bartender nodded a welcome. "Your usual, Christine?"
"Do you have Balvenie?"
"I do."
"Make it a double. Neat."
"You got it." He followed her gaze to the vid screen where the headline about Kirk's death was now a small ticker running under the main reporting. "You served with him?"
"Yep." She took the glass from him. "To heroes."
"Salud."
She took a bigger sip than she meant to and was immediately reminded why she didn't drink scotch that often. Although the burn felt good, like penance of some sort.
Gus found her when she was well into her second drink. "So. Kirk. Was that his poison?"
"No, I was." She started to laugh—in a mean way that meant she was probably a little too drunk—and reached into her pocket for some antitox, but there wasn't any. She didn't drink anymore the way she had at Ops and had fallen out of the habit of always carrying it with her. Oh well, she had plenty at home and flitters were easy to get.
"Was he the reason you couldn't commit?"
"Oh, so you think I can now?" She laughed, a half amused, half mocking sound and he looked hurt. "I wasn't with him. He didn't even like me at the end."
Gus looked like he didn't like her very much at the moment, either.
"Then why did he give you this?" He grabbed her hand and tried to pull the ring off her finger.
"Jesus, Gus, stop it. He didn't give me this."
"Don't lie to me."
She stared at him. "I'm not. He didn't give it to me." She knew her expression was deadly serious.
"But someone did. Just tell me what happened to make you so gun shy?"
"Gun shy?" Again the laugh that seemed to shred him—and she didn't care. "Oh my God, what is it with you men? A woman doesn't want you and it's all her fault. It's never you. It's never that you're boring."
"You're drunk."
"What's that famous saying? Oh yeah, I'll be sober in the morning but I bet you won't be any more exciting."
He held up his hands, his face taking on the reasonable expression she knew was his way of avoiding any kind of confrontation. "Let's just stop right now. I'm going to chalk this up to grief and too much of whatever that is you're drinking"
"Scotch. Single malt."
"Yeah, let's not order that again, okay?"
He made it their problem. Like they'd ordered the drink together. It was his passive-aggressive way of taking control. She wanted to laugh at him again, but it didn't seem worth it.
Did he really think he could manipulate her after she'd been involved with Sarek? And been at the mercy of his goddamned wife?
"I love you. I'm sorry you're hurting." Gus hurried away, probably so he wouldn't have to hear her avoid saying she loved him back. Or maybe he didn't want her to finally say it and have it be a lie, something said while she was compromised by loss or by booze.
He didn't need to worry because she wasn't going to say it. He had no idea how much liquor she could hold before she said things she didn't mean.
##
She was sitting across from Gus in one of his favorite restaurants. She wasn't sure why he was still with her, especially after the way she'd treated him in the bar, months ago now and he'd never mentioned it since. She hadn't even had to say she was sorry—not that she actually was.
She was nothing but bad for him, and still he came back.
She supposed Jan might say it was just like her with Sarek. Only Sarek loved her. She'd felt it in the meld—had never had to just take his word for it as she would a human male. He might be using her, but he also had plans for them.
"Do you know what you're going to get?" Gus always asked it, even though she ordered the same thing every time. And he'd roll her eyes like she was the boring one.
Could she help it if she knew what she liked? Was it possible she was missing out on something wonderful? Yes. But it was equally likely she'd get the new dish, not like it, and spend the rest of the meal thinking how she should have ordered what she wanted in the first place.
Jan would probably say this was also like her relationship with Sarek. Except that Chapel had always been this way, happily sticking with the tried and true.
Which is probably why she was still letting Gus into her bed. Easier than finding someone she'd like less. Or someone she'd like more—possibly enough that she might actually contemplate taking Sarek's ring off.
She hated to think she was capable of using a man the way she was Gus. But she'd been clear. Nothing serious meant just that. If he wanted more—after all this time—then that was on him.
He ordered and seemed to be really upset when they were out of one of the specials. He pouted and made her go first as he pretended to peruse the rather small menu.
She ordered then rolled her eyes at the server when he still didn't seem to know what he wanted. She immediately felt disloyal, but then the woman's grin was so infectious it made her laugh, and Gus stared at her like she'd stabbed him.
"Oh, for God's sake, he'll have the Lorisan burger. Rare. No onions, extra pickles." She waved the poor woman away. "What's your problem?"
"That's not what I wanted."
"They were out of what you wanted. You order the burger all the time. If you're really upset, go catch her and change it to something else. But make up your damn mind."
"That's rich. Coming from you."
She didn't think making up her mind was a problem. Not doing what he wanted her to do was the problem, which would actually involve changing her mind. But she'd had a long day and didn't feel like a fight, so she didn't correct him.
"You know what you remind me of, Christine?"
"God only knows." She made a pleading face. "It was a crappy day, Gus. Don't make it crappier."
"Right, because this is all on me. The fact that your average Vulcan is more emotionally available than you has nothing to do with it." He sat back and stared out the window, seeming as if he'd let it go, but then he turned back to her. "I've been patient. I've been more than patient."
Had he, though? Because this was an old argument and she was fucking sick of it.
"You know what—I'm not doing this." She waved the server over and said, "I have to go. Is it too late to cancel my order?"
"No. I'll take care of it." She was gone before Gus could say anything.
"You're the coldest woman I've ever met."
"Yeah. I got that with the Vulcan comment."
"Then do something about it."
"Oh, you mean change. You mean love you." The hurt in his face only made her madder. "Why do you stay? If I'm so fucking deficient? Why don't you grow a spine and leave?"
"Because I love you."
"And I will never, ever love you." She pushed her chair back and got up.
"We're done, Christine."
"No shit."
##
"Christine?" That voice. The one she heard in her dreams.
She turned around slowly, trying to bite back a smile but failing. Sarek stood in the doorway to her office, in a robe that was wrinkled enough she thought he'd been travelling for a while.
To her assistant, he probably looked like the quintessential Vulcan despite the wrinkles. To her—she saw hope in his face. Hope and so much more.
"You found me." She beckoned him in, then hit the switch that would close the door.
"I will always find you," he said, his voice harsh.
"Does that mean—is she...?"
He nodded.
"I'm sorry." And she was.
And she wasn't.
So many feelings, but hope was winning. Hope and just a small sense of triumph. "I know losing her isn't a small or easy thing. Have you finished mourning?"
She could see approval in his expression—approval and affection and impatience. "I have."
"This will not dishonor her—or us?"
"It will not."
Her door suddenly opened and she heard her assistant say, "Doctor, she's with someone."
She and Sarek were doing nothing wrong, weren't even standing close, but Gus stared at them like he'd caught them in bed naked.
"Doctor, did you want something?" She let the coldness he hated permeate every word.
"I sent you my resignation. I have a new position on Earth. I'll be leaving immediately."
"Fine."
Gus walked over to Sarek. "I know who you are."
"I am afraid you have me at a disadvantage." The human sentiment came out so glibly. She imagined Sarek could phrase niceties in many ways—part of his job.
"Oh, I think you may have had the advantage all along." He turned and left, apparently finally realizing there was nothing he could say.
The door closed behind her and Sarek moved closer. "It would seem you were not alone."
"No, but he was." She wondered if he'd get it, all the ways she meant that.
He nodded. "I did not expect you to abstain."
She started to laugh. "But you hoped I would."
He pulled her to him, his fingers finding the meld points as he kissed her. She could feel him ransacking her memories of Gus and she let him.
His jealousy felt good. The heat of the emotion, the beating heart of his desire, how much he missed her: all were like food for her soul.
She could tell he was looking for more. If she still loved him—if she still wanted him.
"Computer, lock door," she managed to get out as she pushed him back to the couch and followed him down, kneeling over him, pulling up his robe and pushing down her uniform pants even as he deepened the meld.
And then...there. For a moment, she couldn't breathe, and everything he was feeling was buffeting her along with her own emotions, held so close for so long, now finally free.
He put his hand over her mouth as she came, amusement clear but she also felt his care for her, that he not compromise her reputation.
Not because they had to hide, though. This was just simple discretion.
He came loudly, too—or would have if he hadn't buried his face in her uniform top.
"I was not sure you would feel the same way about me."
She kissed him as tenderly as she could. "Silly man."
##
They lay in bed later that night, and she laughed as he pushed her to her back again. Someone had a lot of desire to work out. She didn't mind.
He thrust hard, not even trying to hold back the "Mine, mine, mine" that accompanied his movement.
She was his. After all this time she was fully his. Why should he try?
He found the meld points and pushed into her mind, and his climax rocketed through her, and then he was still, easing off her to lie close but not on her, the meld still there, his love for her echoing strongly.
She felt him taking the meld deeper, deeper than he'd ever gone. She moaned, enjoying the intimacy, but then felt the snap of...permanence, and grabbed his hand. "Whoa, whoa, whoa."
He stopped, but didn't like that he had to—she could feel that through the meld.
"Sarek, back away from the 'bond' button."
She could feel his confusion through her entire being, but he slowly let the meld fade.
"You do not wish to bond? But you...waited. Did you not?"
"I did."
"Yet you do not wish to make this permanent?"
She stroked his hair back and laughed softly at the frustration in his eyes. "My darling, you are almost certainly the love of my life. Yes, I do want to make this permanent. But...eventually. You and I—what we had—it was powerful and lovely and amazing, but it wasn't real. It was always constrained by your marriage, by our schedules, by everything that kept us apart. Time was valuable—the most precious thing we had—so we almost certainly chose to swallow things that might have bothered us about the relationship or each other."
"Logical. But my feelings are real. They have not changed."
"Nor have mine. But we don't even know if we're compatible for long periods. Having sex is not the same thing as having a relationship." She kissed his slight frown away. "I'm pretty sure we are compatible, if that makes you feel better." She let the "you big baby" stay implied, but she was pretty sure he got it.
And, as she expected, he rallied. "So I must work for you. Woo you?"
She shrugged. "If that's how you want to interpret giving us time, I'm not going to complain. Are you upset that you have to wait?"
He smiled—a miniscule expression compared to a human, but a smile nonetheless. "Not at all. Any good negotiator knows that things attained after much effort are more highly valued."
She murmured, "That's my smart boy," as she kissed her way down to thank him in a way she knew he would love.
##
"So," Jan said as she handed Chapel a glass of champagne. "Big changes."
Chapel looked around the room at Starfleet Command, at the friends still left from the Enterprise—Scotty was the latest to be taken, lost with all hands on the Jenolan—here to celebrate her retirement. "I feel like I should say a prayer that I'm getting out alive."
"I was referring more to your plus one." Jan winked at her. "Things good?"
Chapel beamed—she couldn't seem to wipe the stupid smile off her face these days. "Things are very good."
"So are you going to just follow him around the way...she did?" Jan never seemed to know how to refer to Amanda.
"No, I'll be working with him. The way I used to when I was in Ops. Only now I can be seen going into his bedroom."
"And you'll be diplomatic." Jan put the Ops spin on the word, making diplomacy sound like an STD. "That'll be weird."
"Yes, out of all the stuff happening, that'll be the weirdest." She laughed at Jan's expression. "I know he and I work well together. We always have. But living together...that's been interesting."
Interesting, but not something they couldn't deal with. There were things she did that drove Sarek crazy and vice versa. But at the end of the day, he went to bed with her and woke up with her and they could be seen together, any time, any place.
"I'm happy for you. I know I wasn't his biggest fan, but I'm glad you got the dream."
"Me, too."
She saw that Spock was standing with Saavik, staring at her in a way that was somewhere between hostile and resigned.
"You're going to be his stepmother. I'm laughing really hard on the inside." Jan held up her glass. "To love despite the weirdness."
Chapel returned the toast, then walked over to Spock and Saavik. Saavik was polite, but distant. Spock on the other hand, seemed content to stay when Saavik went to talk to Ny, even though he hadn't said a single word to her.
"We're going to have to talk eventually, Spock."
"I am aware of that, Christine."
"I want you to know I never set out for this to happen. I didn't see a road and follow it."
"It found you?"
"More or less, yeah." She pitched her voice even lower. "Thank you for trying—sending Jim my way."
"I did not do it for you, Christine." His voice held a world of disapproval.
"Okay, sorry." She watched as Saavik and Ny talked with great animation. "You care for her?"
"My relationship with her is my concern."
"I'm just trying to find a safe topic."
"There may not be any. You will marry my father. I know I must...interact with you, but I do not have to enjoy it. Or seek to extend the time any more than is necessary." He nodded in a way that if anyone else did it, would be respectful but in this case came out mocking.
"Don't make this hard for him, Spock."
"I think you mean for you. My interactions with my father have always been fraught with negativity." He seemed to be studying her. "I do not see your presence changing that in any positive way."
"Fine. Be an asshole." She said it with a sweet smile; if anyone glanced their way, they would see two people seemingly having a nice conversation.
He leaned in, the way a friend would to share a confidence. "My mother was everything to him. No matter what is between you and what will be, she will always be first in his heart."
"Maybe so." Chapel didn't want to debate that. Amanda had borne Sarek a son, had been his constant companion for decades, had died and been mourned.
But she wasn't here now and that was all that mattered. Chapel resisted saying so to Spock, however. Instead, as Spock turned to go, she said, "I admired her, Spock. Nothing that happened changed that." Which was true. She'd found out you could admire and hate someone at the same time.
In fact, it was easy.
##
It had been a successful mission. Chapel had contributed more than she'd expected, which pleased her. She'd known she'd be of some help to Sarek but hadn't known how much he would let her in, how much he would rely on her.
He let her in all the way—or as far as security imperatives allowed.
And now they sat on her apartment balcony enjoying the view and eating things they'd picked up together after walking around the city together—just because they could.
He took the last strawberry and held it out for her. She shook her head and he popped it into his mouth, clearly enjoying the fruit.
"We're compatible."
He actually mumbled "Mmm hmmm" as he reached for a piece of cheese. Then he froze, hand stilled over the cheese plate. "What did you say?"
"Something wrong with your hearing? I said, we're compatible." She laughed as he turned to look at her. "Com-pat-i-ble."
"You wish to...?" He was surprised. In a good way. She'd managed to surprise him.
"I do." Although she was glad they'd waited; bonding when he'd first wanted to would definitely have been too soon.
He began to pick up dishes and stood. "We will take these in for later. We will probably not want to leave this place for some time."
She grabbed the wine bottle, her glass, and his bottle of water and followed him into the bedroom.
He put everything on the dresser, then relieved her of the bottles and glass, and pulled her to the bed.
She stopped him, drawing him to her, stroking his hair and rubbing against him as she said, "I love you. So much."
"And I you. My wife." There was so much emotion loaded into one word. He touched the ring on her hand. "The promise is fulfilled."
"Well, technically we need to get married for it to count."
"The wedding will be but a formality. The bond will unite us."
"It will make me yours?"
"And I yours." He kissed her, a heady mix of passion and tenderness filling the touch of his lips on hers.
She pulled off his robe and let him disrobe her quickly. Then he drew her down to the bed, to cuddle against him, and he put his leg over hers, the move so possessive she laughed and said, "I'm not going to run away."
"One can never be too careful." His eyes gleamed with humor as he found the meld points, as he went slowly but unrelentingly deeper and deeper.
She started to feel dizzy but his body pressed so tightly against hers kept her grounded.
"Breathe," he said gently, stopping his progress for a moment. Then he started the slide down and down and—
She felt as if she was split open. It was the best orgasm she'd ever had and they weren't even having sex.
Then she could feel him, reacting the same way to the closeness. She felt as if she might pass out from pleasure and heard his murmured, "Breathe," again.
She wasn't sure how long they stayed like that. As it started to fade, she sensed no surprise from him. This was normal, then. The intensity would not be like that all the time, which was probably a good thing or she'd forget to eat or drink or bathe or possibly ever get up again from this bed.
Other things began to supplant the pleasure he'd given her. His love for her was like a blanket on a cold day—comforting and all-encompassing. His respect for her, his affection. So many things.
She could feel him reading her and he was pleased.
"It will not always this be this strong. Explore while you can."
She let herself drift, not sure what she was experiencing, sometimes happiness, other times not, but all his—for her. Open to her. Holding nothing back.
They came up slowly, as their minds became distinct, more opaque, and he moved over her and made love to her while they could still feel each other's sensations so keenly.
When she looked at the chrono, she was shocked to see that hours had passed in what felt like an instant. "Food. Please." Her mouth was so dry she could barely get the words out.
He got up and brought their food over, then handed her the water bottle, letting her drink first before also taking a long drink.
"We're bonded," she said, running her fingernail down his arm, shivering as she felt the faintest echo of the feeling even with no meld in place.
"We are. It has been my deepest wish."
"Thank you for waiting."
"I would have waited much longer, Christine. For you." He touched the band on her finger. "This wedding we must have—a simple affair or a lavish one?"
"Simple. Private."
He nodded and she knew it was what he wanted, too, not that he was humoring her. "We will have a reception at the embassy. I wish to...show you off."
"You do know how to tell a girl what she wants to hear."
"It is no hardship to please you. To speak to you in terms perhaps more human than Vulcan. In private, at any rate."
He looked around her bedroom—and she laughed because they had once again destroyed the bed, covers kicked everywhere. "We should keep this place once you move into the embassy. For when we wish to be truly alone."
"Good idea." She suddenly loved the tiny space more than anything. Before it had been their prison, now it could be their retreat.
Their playground.
And their sanctuary.
She had never felt more content. She sent a silent apology to the people she'd hurt: Amanda, Gus, even Jim.
She didn't want to think of them mad at her.
Not now, when everything was perfect.