The Peril of Intervening Between Water and Stone

By Djinn

Part 1

Chapel lay nestled against Spock while he read his padd, engrossed in an article about—something. It wasn't that she didn't understand what he read, it was that his range of interests was so broad, she was never sure what he might be reading on any given day. This one looked like a ship report, though, and she sighed and closed her eyes for about the fourteenth time. She could sleep with the light on, that wasn't the problem. It was a family joke that she could sleep anywhere, anytime.

Unless the room was too warm.

"Spock, can we turn the heat down?"

"I have turned it down. This is the temperature we agreed on—as a compromise."

"I'm too hot."

"You will grow used to it. Just as if we are ever on Vulcan, you will grow used to the heat there."

"Yeah, but there I'll be distracted by not being able to breath. In here, I just feel like I'm sweltering to death."

"That is an exaggeration." He went back to his padd, but not before saying, "Computer, cool room three degrees."

She stretched to kiss his cheek. "Thank you."

"This is not our new set point. I am...indulging you."

"Speaking of indulging, Valentine's Day is just around the corner."

"It is a human custom, Christine."

"And I'm human. And you're half human." She eased away from him, feeling petty as a surge of dissatisfaction rolled over her. They'd gotten together after V'ger, and her birthday had been several weeks later. She'd let it slide that he hadn't done anything for it; they were new as a couple, and she thought they'd work these things out in time.

But then Christmas had come, a holiday Spock pointed out much of the human population didn't even celebrate, and she'd had to get her holiday cheer by trading presents with Ny and Jan. Which was what she was used to, but now that she was with Spock, it hadn't been what she'd expected.

Roger had spoiled her on every occasion. Then again Roger had made a mechanical geisha that had looked nothing like her, so maybe he wasn't the best one to compare to.

Spock put down the padd. His sigh was a longsuffering one, as if dealing with her emotions was a trial. "My mother does not celebrate Valentine's Day."

"And I'm not your mother." She rolled on her side, facing away. "Ask Jim for help, if you're truly unsure how to celebrate it. I'm sure he has plenty of ideas."

"And I am sure he has better things to do than give me advice on our relationship." Spock turned her gently. "Christine, you know me. I am Vulcan, and you knew this from the moment we started. If you wanted a highly romantic partner, you should have chosen someone else."

"Funny, that wasn't part of your sales pitch when you came to my quarters the first time." He'd seduced her quite skillfully after the meld with V'ger had left him so emotional. She'd loved those first weeks, when he'd been open to her, to loving her, to expressing that love.

He was less open now. Far less open. If she hadn't gotten a taste of what a Spock capable of saying sappy things was like, his reversion to more Vulcan behavior probably wouldn't hurt. And he was right: she'd known going into this what a more normal Spock would be like. She should be happy that she'd had the chance to experience him fully embracing his emotions, even if it had lasted only a short time.

And he still wanted her, even as he'd grown more and more Vulcan. That was what kept her sane: he still loved her. Even if saying "I love you" had given way to "I care for you greatly." Kind of the wrong direction: declarations should get stronger over time.

But she knew. She knew how he was, and that was all there was to say.

Still, that didn't make it any easier to relax and invite sleep to take her. Sleep was, in fact, laughing at her. She eased out of bed.

"Are you all right?"

"Too wired. Worst thing to do is lie in bed when you can't sleep, so I'll just walk a bit. Go back to your reading." Her tone was unnaturally breezy, and she couldn't bear to look at him when she was so obviously not feeling upbeat. She pulled on a pair of pants and her favorite t-shirt, shoved her feet into some sandals, and got the hell out of his quarters.

Blessed coolness met her in the corridor, and she breathed deeply several times. She'd get used to the heat. People moved to the desert or a humid, hot area and acclimated. She would too.

But why the hell should she? Some part of her, some part not on board with the "Spock loves me so everything is okay" mantra, kept whispering that she shouldn't have to put up with it. His room was too hot. And was it so wrong to want flowers or candy or...anything?

She made her way to her quarters, stood poised with her hand up, ready to palm the door open, but couldn't bear to go into a room she never used anymore. Even if she could set the temperature to frigid and bundle up under her down comforter.

The way she liked to sleep.

She turned and hurried away, wiping her eyes—stupid tears. Why? Why cry? She had what she wanted. She had it, and he was sweet to her in his own way and liked sharing his quarters with her and was a good lover. What the hell was wrong with her?

The observation room lay ahead and she went inside, waiting at the door for her eyes to adjust, making sure there was no one else there.

As her eyes got used to the blackness, she could tell she was alone, so she moved away from the door and stood by the viewport, watching the star stream go by, trying to not think about things like Valentine's Day or next year's Christmas or her birthday. She heard the door open and closed her eyes, holding them tightly shut—was there nowhere she could hide on this damned ship?

Even if she knew she had quarters she could have hidden in. But Spock had access to them. And she didn't want him to see her crying. Not that she was crying now, but she was afraid if she was really alone, she would. So she'd come here, where she'd have to control herself because anyone could bust in on her—as someone had just done.

She heard a sigh, a familiar one, and turned to see who had come in.

Kirk was standing where the dim light from the small window in the door lit the room, hands on his hips, staring out at the stars, a grim look on his face.

"You're not alone in here, Jim."

He turned, seemed to spot her immediately. "I knew you weren't at the party. I thought you were with Spock." He walked over to her. "I was buying. Should have been there."

She smiled. Everyone had been excited about the party he was hosting. Drinks on him was not the normal way. "I doubt you missed me. And it was one less knock against your credit line."

He laughed softly, but it was too dark to see his expression. "Not my credit line. As captain, I have a discretionary morale fund."

"Ah. Good to know." She turned back to the viewport. "I think we both came here to be alone. One of us should leave."

He somehow found her hand in the dark, pulled her out to the more lit area he'd been standing in before, and studied her. "You have quarters. Solo ones. You can't be alone in them?"

"You're right." Trust him to say that, too. He never held back, not now that she was a doctor and with his best friend. She usually liked that he didn't see the need to watch his words with her. But tonight there was a little too much insight alongside the honesty. She tried to get away from him, but he didn't let go until she turned and glared at him.

"Chris, what's wrong?"

She was not going to do this; she was not going to talk about Spock to his best friend. "Just having a bad day."

"Did I do something?"

She started to laugh. "No, Jim. It's nothing you did. I'm just...it's just a bad day, okay?"

"Okay." He didn't look convinced.

"I'll let you have the stars in peace."

"I could share them with you." He seemed to realize how that sounded and laughed a little nervously. "I mean—"

"I know what you meant, Jim. It's sweet. You're sweet." But still, Spock's best friend.

She turned and left before he could use that sweetness to cajole her into opening up. Something else she'd found out since she'd been with Spock that he was way too good at doing.

##

Spock sat in the crowded mess, trying to tune the sounds of others out with the success he had enjoyed during his previous assignment on the Enterprise. Since his meld with V'Ger, he had found it difficult to achieve the level of stillness and peace that he sought.

"You want company?"

Jim. Spock felt a surge of contentment flow through him. Being back with his friend—allowing him to be a friend—refreshed him in ways that nothing else did. "Please."

Jim sat and began to eat, their morning routine built from so many meals eaten during their first mission together. After a bit, Jim met his eyes. "You and Chris okay?"

"I am...unsure."

"Hmmm." He went back to eating, to Spock's disappointment. At this point, he thought he would welcome Jim's assistance.

"I believe I disappoint her."

Jim looked unsure where to go with that.

"Not sexually."

Jim started to laugh. "Okay, then. Good to know. So how are you disappointing her?"

"She has certain expectations."

"Everyone does. It's how we're wired. Even you, my friend." Jim took a bite of his pancakes and seemed to enjoy them more than usual. At Spock's look, he shrugged. "It's possible that Bones will put me on a diet after my physical this afternoon. So I'm going to enjoy these while I can."

"A sound policy." Spock pushed his plate away. "She wishes to celebrate Valentine's Day."

Jim shot him the look Spock disliked immensely. The one that said he was being stubborn for no reason. "Then buy her some roses. Problem solved."

"I would be buying them merely to ease her discontent. I would not be entering into the spirit of the holiday. I do not care about the holiday."

"You care about Chris, right?"

Spock nodded. "But it is the principle of the thing."

"So hurting her is worth some principle?" Jim sighed as if very disappointed with him. "Buy her some chocolates, too. You've got the credits."

Spock sighed, and Jim took a break from the pancakes, studying him as if trying to figure out why this was so difficult.

"Spock, all I'm saying is that no matter what you think of the holiday, you ignore it at your peril. Got it?"

Spock took a deep breath, leaning back, trying to find the repose he once found so effortless.

"Is this really about some holiday?"

"My quarters are too warm for her."

"Your quarters are a goddamn blast furnace, Spock. Why do you think we play chess in my quarters or the lounge?" He smiled gently. "What's really wrong?"

Spock shook his head and was silent, long enough for Jim to abandon waiting and go back to his pancakes. Finally, Spock said, "She is more volatile than I anticipated."

"Is 'volatile' a highly charged way of saying 'emotional'?"

"No. She is human. Emotions are part of being human. To expect otherwise would be illogical."

"So she's too emotional?"

"I am not able to anticipate what will please her and what will make her unhappy. We have been together three months: should I not be more accomplished at making my mate...happy?"

"Mate? Wow. Did you...?"

Spock could tell Jim was speaking of the bond. He shook his head. "It is how I consider her."

"Ah. Yours."

"Yes. Mine." He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, trying to impede the slow gnawing feeling that he thought might be unhappiness. "What would you do?"

Kirk pursed his lips and leaned back. "I lived with a highly volatile woman. You met her: she tried to execute you while she was in my body."

Spock could feel his lips turning up slightly and didn't fight it, content to let Jim see he was amused. "Indeed. Christine is not unstable to that degree."

"Unstable?" Jim put his fork down. "How is she volatile?"

"I compare her to women I have known. My mother. Leila. T'Pring."

"T'Pring? The wacky gal who tried to have one of us kill the other?"

"T'Pring, for all her faults, is not volatile."

Jim frowned. "Are you saying you'd prefer her to Chris?"

"I am not. I am merely noting that the Christine I remember from our first posting was more serene than the one with whom I am now dealing."

Jim pursed his lips again, but this time Spock could tell it was in impatience. "She's been through a lot since then. She double-timed it through med school. Had no life while she was doing that. Then everything that's happened here—losing Decker who was her friend, losing her posting, having to make accommodations to a new role—and me, back in the center seat rather than the man who chose her for CMO. She's not the same woman—a woman who frankly was more than a little stuck in a comfortable rut. Maybe this is the real Christine Chapel?"

"That is my fear."

Jim made a face and shook his head, going back to his breakfast.

"I have said the wrong thing."

"Has it occurred to you that you're oversensitive right now, going from Gol to a mega-meld with V'Ger, and that it's unfair to compare her to other women. You chose her, not Leila. Frankly, I think you made the right choice. Not a fan of your Doctor Kalomi."

"You did not see her at her best. She was under the influence of the spores."

"So was I. I broke away."

"Perhaps you would not have if a woman you loved had been there. What if it had been Doctor Marcus? Would you not have been distracted by having a chance to address your choices with regard to her?"

"There was no choice with her, Spock. That was the problem. Carol wasn't volatile: she was unswerving in her demands." He rubbed his eyes. "Sorry, don't mean to snap. Yesterday was David's birthday. It's why I threw the party, so I could forget about a milestone I'm not allowed to celebrate with a son I'm not allowed to see."

Spock felt regret, hot and urgent, fill him and he closed his eyes. "I did not mean to—"

"It's all right. Just...leave my love life out of this, okay?"

"Very well."

"And talk to Chris. I know you two love each other. I've seen that."

Spock nodded, but he thought Jim might have missed a very important point. Spock did love Christine. He knew she loved him. Love was not the issue. And they were intensely compatible in bed, so desire was also not the problem.

Liking each other, on the other hand, might prove far more challenging.

##

Kirk watched the landing party as they interacted with their Danivian counterparts. He'd slotted Chris as the medical rep but after his conversation with Spock at breakfast, he'd considered replacing her with Bones.

He'd opted not to. He had to hope they could be professional about this, whatever was really going on. Because he knew if push came to shove, Chris would be the one he'd put on beta shift, not Spock.

Kirk needed him. Chris was a key officer, but she wasn't as essential to him.

He sighed and pushed on his forehead; he had the beginning of a nasty headache. He hated this time of year, when his son turned another year older, thinking no doubt that Kirk didn't want to be in his life, that he was a bad father—that he hadn't even given him his name.

He could have. If Carol had let him. There were plenty of fleet officers who were out on ships while their families were home. He'd been in Starfleet when Carol met him; this should not have turned out this way.

A situation he couldn't finesse—a woman he couldn't charm. His detractors would love to know there was actually a scenario the great James T. couldn't control, couldn't make come out his way.

"Are you okay?" Chris's soft voice. He turned, saw she was smiling gently. "They'd like to give us a tour of their emergency operations center. They really want you to come."

"Okay." He rubbed his eyes again; they felt like someone had scrubbed sand under his eyelids.

"Hold on." She scanned him. "Nothing in the atmosphere to cause this type of reaction. They're really red."

"I didn't sleep well last night."

"I'm sorry. I hope it wasn't Spock and my problems keeping you awake." She didn't have the probing sound of someone who knew what was keeping him awake. Spock hadn't shared—good.

"It's a long story, but it's not the two of you. Just a bad day."

"Oh, sure, use that tired excuse." She winked and took his arm just long enough to get him moving toward where the group touring the facility was gathering. "I'm sorry, by the way."

"For what?"

"For not asking why you were in the observation lounge when your party was going on without you. Not like you to throw a big hootenanny, booze on you—or your super-duper morale fund—and then ditch it? And you looked...grim."

He tried a shrug, and she laughed softly.

"Fine, don't tell me. But I wanted you to know I noticed. I'm not solely into my own petty problems. No matter how it might have seemed." Another gentle smile and she moved away a little.

Kirk studied her as they walked with their hosts, played back his latest interactions with her. She seemed pretty much like he remembered. Sweet. Concerned. Competent. Funny, when she wanted to be.

What the hell had Spock's knickers in such a knot? Was Valentine's Day a stupid holiday? Yes. But how hard was it to make her happy? Just buy her some damn candy and flowers already.

"Something wrong? You're staring at me." She started to laugh.

"No. I was thinking about my stuff. Sorry, did it while I was looking your way."

"Okay." She smiled, but it was a confused smile.

Damn it all. Why was he even worrying about this? He put on his best "Show me all your amazing sights" expression and engaged with their hosts, like he should have been doing all along.

##

Chapel palmed open Spock's quarters, was met with a blast of air that seemed hotter than it ever had before. She closed her eyes and prayed for strength to whatever deity looked after couples as different as she and Spock seemed to be.

He was meditating, candles going all around him, because why not add fire to heat that was already blasting?

She stood in front of him. "I need to say something."

He ignored her, but the expression on his face changed enough to let her know he'd heard her.

"Computer lower temperature to twenty-two degrees."

That got his attention. His eyes snapped open, and the look he gave her could only be called annoyed.

More annoyed than he would normally show, now that V'ger had worn off. She noticed his terminal was on, walked over and saw a receipt for travel booked to Vulcan. For one. "What—what is this?"

"It is unfortunate timing." He pinched the candles out and rose. "I am cold."

"And I am too fucking hot. But that is not what I wanted to say."

He reached around her and cleared the screen. "What did you want to say?"

"That I'm sorry if I made a big deal about Valentine's Day. I think...I think it's better if we agree now that you don't have to worry about it." She swallowed. "Or my birthday, or Christmas, or any other celebration that requires gifts." She sat down on the bed and took out her scanner, checking him as he stood at the terminal, his back still turned to her.

Shit. The levels were ones she was not likely to forget. She realized he'd turned around, could see what she was doing—so much for stealth. "Were you going to tell me?"

"Eventually." He studied her. "I would like to return to what you said. You seemed to feel strongly about my marking occasions with appropriate efforts. Why give me this graceful exit?"

Because she was pretty sure he was going to screw up the presents—or resent her for needing him to do this. She didn't say that though. She'd give him the more noble reason. "You're Vulcan: presents aren't your way. I need to accept that."

He touched her hair, moving his hand to her cheek—his skin was so hot. Why were they talking about presents when this was back?

"Are you going to Vulcan?" She moved closer.

"I am. I leave tomorrow. The ship is, fortunately, quite close to Vulcan, and there is a shuttle leaving that I—"

"Am I going with you?"

He moved away, but the look in his eyes was helpless. "No."

"It's the Pon Farr."

He swallowed hard. "Yes."

"Aren't you with me?"

"I am."

She got up, moved to him, taking him by the hand, and he pulled her in and held her close. "I don't understand, Spock. You love me, don't you?"

"I do."

"Then who are you going to be with?"

"There are priestesses. Trained to help. There will be no emotional connection, I assure you." He held her more tightly, almost painfully.

"But we have an emotional connection—and a physical one. A good physical one. And I'm strong. If you're worried about hurting me, then it's a silly fear."

"I am worried that I will bond with you in the heat of the burning, and that you will let me." He eased her away from him. "And we are not ready for that."

She backed away and sat down on the bed. "Explain this to me. Is it because I complain that I'm too warm in this room, or because I'd prefer that you want to celebrate holidays with me? I'm trying to get better on the holiday thing. We're going to have to find a new compromise on the heat, but that's no reason to leave me here when you're going through this."

"It is every reason, Christine. If we bonded, you would be trapped. Bound to me for the rest of your—or more accurately my—life. I remember how I reacted around you the first time I endured the burning. We were not involved then, yet I wanted you. It will be much harder to not take what I want, to not make this permanent."

"I've wanted you for so long, Spock. I think I've proven what I feel is lasting given how long I've waited. Permanent doesn't sound bad to me. Not if deep down you think you want it, too."

"I am not ready for it. And if you were not hurt by the fact I am leaving you here, you would realize you are not ready, either." The expression on his face was one of deep regret. "I love you, Christine."

She glanced into the bathroom, saw that his carryall was in there, half packed, open for him to put in—what? Who the hell knew what he traveled with? Not her, that was for sure. "I think I'd take more comfort in that declaration if you weren't packing for a solo trip." She stood.

"I am leaving in an hour. You can stay here with me and of course when I am gone. This is your space, too."

A space that until today she'd never had the balls to adjust the temperature of without asking him first. "I have quarters. I think I'll use them. Let me know when you're back." She hurried to the door.

He caught her before she could leave, eased her away, toward the bed, trying to pull her clothes off as they went. "I do not want us to part in this way. With coldness between us."

She stopped him. "You can't have sex with me and then leave for Vulcan without me."

He kissed her, tenderly, sweetly. "I will be careful. I do not wish to leave with you angry." His voice was ragged, the emotion surging out of him.

"How can you ask me this and then leave me behind?" She shoved him onto the bed, and hurried to the door, saying, "I'll see you when you get back."

She slammed her palm down, and the door flew open. She practically ran out, glancing back to make sure he wasn't following her. She knew if she went back to him, he might lose himself in her. He might miss his shuttle, and they'd be locked in his room, and he might want to bond with her, and she might let him. And she needed to wake up—she'd fallen once for him when his emotions were surging, but his feelings hadn't lasted at that intensity. They wouldn't this time, either. He'd come back from Vulcan calmer—saner.

And not bonded to her. Something she hadn't really thought about wanting, not realizing the Pon Farr was so close.

But now that she knew he didn't want it, didn't think she was—what, exactly? Respectable? Controlled enough?

Why didn't he want her?

She went to her quarters and suspended his access on the door. If he came looking for her, she wanted to have the choice to let him in or not.

He didn't come looking for her. And he was off the ship by the time she went to dinner, forcing down a meal she didn't feel like eating.

"You want company?" Jim's voice, behind her—he was giving her the chance to nod or shake her head without having to look at him. Sparing her from having to put on a brave face.

"I don't know."

He sat down next to her. "He told me he needed to go, and why."

She nodded.

"What I don't understand is why he didn't take you."

"Join the crowd." She stabbed a piece of meat, chewed it, and found it tasteless. She pushed the tray away. "He's your best friend. I'm not going to talk to you about this. I know I'm only in your life because of him."

"Chris, that's not true."

"Right, because I called you 'Jim' so often before I was sleeping with Spock." She rolled her eyes.

"If you want to take it out on me, that's fine. I imagine you're hurting a great deal."

"Don't be gracious and logical. Tell me I'm a bitch. Tell me I don't measure up. Tell me why I wasn't good enough to risk bonding with." Damn—she had not meant to let that much slip.

"Is that why he didn't take you?" His tone was so gentle, so inviting, she found her resolution to not involve him in this desert her.

"He was afraid he'd lose control and bond with me. And he doesn't think we're ready for that."

Jim reached over, took her hand, squeezed it gently. "You've only been together a few months, Chris. You're still new. I think he was wise."

"Because you don't think I measure up, either?"

"Because the way I understand it, that bond is forever. That's a long time to be unhappy if things don't work out. Being called back every seven years or however it works for him. Do you really want that? He can bond with you any time. Wouldn't you rather it be when he's in his right mind?"

"Pffffffff." She pulled the tray back, speared a vegetable with less energy than she'd attacked the meat. "Fine. Make sense. See if I care."

He laughed. "He did the right thing, Chris. I know it hurts, but he's thinking of you both here, not just himself."

She ate a few more bites than pushed the tray away again. "He's with some other woman. He's cheating on me in order to spare me. How am I supposed to feel about that? About us?"

Jim looked down. "This has to hurt. I get that. I do."

"But you think he was right?"

"I do. I'm sorry if that hurts you."

"The truth hurts. That seems to be the theme for the day." She pushed her chair back and grabbed her tray. "Have a good evening, sir."

"Chris. Don't sir me." He reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her back gently. "I mean it. I am your friend, too."

"Okay." She pulled her hand from his grasp. "Goodnight, Jim."

He gave her the sweetest smile she'd ever gotten from him. "That's better."

##

Spock woke, the incense of the mating room suddenly smelling sour to him—or perhaps that was his own odor. This was his first consummated Pon Farr and it had lasted far longer than he'd expected.

He sat up, pulling the sheet over his lower body, even though it was illogical to cover himself from T'Ferra. She had seen everything there was to see.

She was in the corner, curled up like a cat, and he could see dark green bruises on her cheek where the meld points were. He closed his eyes and held back a sigh.

Not wanting to wake her, he made his way into the bathing room, skipping the bath she had run for him, that the tub had been keeping warm, and using the shower instead.

He had the irrational urge to scrub the nights and days he'd spent with T'Ferra off his body, to somehow make himself clean again for Christine. He cut the shower short, found his robe and slipped it on.

T'Ferra was up and drinking water. "Your burning lasted longer than normal."

"Being half human..." He looked down; why, after all these years, did that fact have to bring him such shame on his home planet?

"Ah, of course." T'Ferra stretched, a sinuous move but an innocent one Spock thought, nothing intended to arouse him. "I would not know you were human to look at you."

He let an eyebrow be her answer.

"I am serious. You appear Vulcan. Your strength seemed full Vulcan. Your reactions normal Vulcan male in rut."

He felt something inside him—some deep sense of insecurity—settle down at her words. "Most kind."

"It is not kind to speak truth, Spock. Surely you know this." She touched her cheek. "I will speak another truth. I do not normally assist men who are as emotionally tied as you are to your Christine."

"I hurt you?"

"You were looking for her. Over and over."

"Would I have bonded with her had she been here."

"Most assuredly." T'Ferra studied him. "Why omit her from this process?"

"We are a new couple. And our compatibility is still to be determined."

"And the passion you feel for her cannot be everything in a relationship." She yawned, prettily. Priestesses such as herself did all things gracefully. "You were wise, then, to leave her on your ship—I assume that is where she is."

He nodded.

She walked over to him. "Our time is done. Live long and prosper, Spock."

"You as well, T'Ferra. I thank you most humbly for your assistance." He turned and left her, as the ritual words required. Taking his bag, he made his way to a transport that would take him up the mountains to his parents' house.

He opened the door and saw his mother sitting in the living room.

She beamed at him. "Spock. What a surprise. Did you bring Christine?"

Sarek came out from the back of the house, from his office no doubt. There was, as always, a hint of disapproval in his look. Spock was not sure, however, if it was because Spock was involved with a human or that he had not brought her with him. He did not feel emotionally resilient enough to deal with his father's censure.

"I am here on a most personal matter." It was the way to say what was not spoken of.

His mother's expression changed. "Ah. So my question applies even more. Is she coming along later? Was she hurt?"

"Christine did not accompany me, Mother." He could feel Sarek's eyes on him, could imagine them judging him. Whether his father approved of Christine as a possible mate for Spock or not, Spock knew Sarek would not like the reason he had left her on the ship, that he did not feel capable of controlling himself, that an inadvertent bond was a possibility.

"You were with a priestess?" Sarek moved into the living room, went to sit by Spock's mother.

"I was."

Sarek looked even more dissatisfied. "Those are for men without mates. I was given to understand that you and Doctor Chapel had forged an understanding."

Spock forced himself not to react. If only understanding was the primary thing he and Christine had forged. But it was not: it was passion and desire and yes, he would call it love. But understanding, compatibility, the kind of ease he felt with Jim or Leonard? The kind his mother and father appeared to enjoy? No. He said none of these things to Sarek, though, settled for, "My relationship with Christine is my concern, Father, not yours."

To Spock's surprise, his father seemed to take the rebuke with good grace. "I will let the subject rest now. How long are you staying?"

"A few days. I require rest."

"Of course, my son. I will leave you to that." His father shared a look with Amanda that Spock could not read, then rose and left them alone.

She stood and took his arm. "I think you've made a mistake Spock. Christine is a lovely woman."

"She is. I care for her. I was not, however, ready to tie us to each other forever. I was unsure, given that my first Pon Farr was...interrupted, if I would be able to control my desire for permanence with her."

"If you desire permanence, Spock, why isn't she here?"

"Desire does not always last. Passion fades. True rapport on the other hand endures—she and I have not had time to build it." He yawned, tried to hide it, but of course his mother saw it.

"Come on, Spock. I'll tuck you in like when you were my little boy."

"That will not be necessary."

She laughed, and he felt a surge of contentment at their old game and the joy it seemed to give her. "Well, all I can say, my boy, is that you better get some very nice Valentine's gifts for her."

"She has told me she understands my position. That presents for any occasion are not necessary."

Amanda laughed. "And she was lying through her teeth."

He sighed, then realized what he'd done. So self indulgent. "I am unsure what to make of your statement."

"If she was letting you off the hook, it's for reasons that don't bode well for you: either she thinks you'll give horrible gifts or she knows your heart won't be in it."

He nodded, giving up to his mother's logic. "But you have let my father off the hook, have you not?"

She laughed softly. "Just because you do not see him giving me gifts, does not mean he doesn't."

He knew he was frowning in confusion.

She rubbed his temple gently. "My poor boy. When you wake up, we'll go shopping. I'll show you things a woman likes. You can take it from there—I hope." She leaned up and kissed his cheek as they arrived at his bedroom door. "Go get some sleep. We'll be here when you wake up."

##

Kirk headed into sickbay, happy to see it was empty of patients. Bones was long gone—Kirk had seen him earlier in the lounge—but Chris was still working in her office and had clearly not heard him come in.

"Hello there."

She looked up and started to laugh, no doubt at the two plates he was holding.

"I nearly got mugged for these, so no laughing." He took the seat opposite her and handed her a plate of key lime pie. "I believe there is very little that this stuff can't make better."

"What if I tell you I don't like pie?" But she put the plate down, point facing her, as any true pie lover would do.

"Everyone loves pie. I mean I could understand not loving two-crust pies. Those can get a bit much. But this is essentially lime pudding on a giant squashed graham cracker. With real whipped cream." Just to screw with her, he reached over and turned her plate so the point of the pie was facing away from her.

She started to laugh as she shrugged and slid her fork down one of the sides.

"You surprise me. Most people have to turn it back."

"Do you?"

"If it's been a bad day and I want to control things, then it feels good to have the pie pointing the way I prefer. Otherwise, I'm flexible. It eats the same, as my grandmother used to say."

"It does. And it's very yummy." Her smile was sweet. "What's the occasion?"

"Well, since Spock's held up until tomorrow, I figured you could use a treat."

Her expression changed, and she put her fork down.

"He commed you, didn't he? His shuttle was supposed to leave tonight but now can't depart until tomorrow. Waiting on a part or something."

"No. He didn't comm me." She leaned back and sighed.

"Check your messages. I can't see him not letting you know that he would be late."

"There's nothing there, Jim." She met his eyes, seemed to see something in his that made her turn to her terminal and bring up the message queue. "Nope. Nothing." She carved off another bite of pie with more restraint than he expected. "Thank you for this. It was sweet of you."

He nodded.

"I don't...I don't really understand him, Jim. I mean I wanted this for so long, and parts of it are really good—I mean really good."

He laughed gently and looked down.

"Aww, am I embarrassing the great Casanova?" Her teasing had a gentle edge, so he didn't mind it the way he did when others brought up his reputation.

He took a bite of pie, thought about how far he wanted to delve into her relationship with Spock. She looked like she needed to talk, so he asked, "But the parts that aren't good...?"

"They're stupid things. They're little things." She seemed to be blinking back tears and stabbed a bite of pie more viciously this time. "Well, except the whole 'my boyfriend went home to Vulcan to have sex with a hooker.' That's not a little thing."

"I think they call them priestesses."

"Tomato, tomahto, toots." She stood up. "I like coffee with my pie. Cuts the sweet. I have a pot of decaf on. You want some?"

"Sure. Black."

"I know how you take your coffee, Jim."

He smiled. He knew how she took hers, too. Extra dark roast with so much milk and sugar it nearly negated the whole dark part of the coffee.

And Spock stuck with water. Or juice if he was living on the edge.

Spock, the idiot who hadn't thought to tell the woman he loved that he'd be delayed after spending days—and nights—with another woman. He understood Spock's reasoning on why he'd left Chris behind but still, this was just stupid. Or was he afraid to face Chris? Was he ashamed of what he'd done? Even if it was for the right reason?

"Here you go." She put a mug down for him, then sat down with her mug, her coffee a much lighter color than his. He hoped she'd left out the sugar if she wanted to cut the sweet.

They ate in silence for a bit, then she said very softly, "The hell of it is I understand why he did it. I've been thinking about it—plenty of time to think—and he's right. We're too new to walk into a 'forever' arrangement. I just wish I'd been included more in the planning. He was packing when I got to his quarters. Was he just going to leave and not say goodbye?"

Kirk wasn't sure, but felt compelled to defend his friend. "I don't think so."

"But you thought he'd have let me know he was delayed and he didn't. So how well do you really know him?"

"Pretty damn well." He didn't like the tone in his voice, how hard that came out, so he made his voice gentler as he said, "He doesn't do things without a reason." Even if at times Spock was more impulsive and unilateral than any person Kirk knew. Going out to meld with V'ger, leaving for Gol in the first place—that decision had hit Kirk like a bolt. Made worse that he'd found out after Spock had left for Vulcan, and in a memo—Spock hadn't wanted to talk to him about it in person. Maybe avoidance was his preferred way. Kirk met Chris's eyes and shrugged, could tell the gesture came off a bit helpless by the way her expression changed.

"I shouldn't be complaining about him to you."

He reached across the desk and took her hand in his. "You're my friend, too, Chris. You need to believe that. I don't bring key lime pie to just anyone."

He heard the hiss of the sickbay door opening, then Rand's voice saying, "Chapel, you bored with sitting around being a big grump because Spock's a moron?"

Chris started to laugh but also turned a charming shade of red.

"In here, Jan," Kirk said, smiling at Rand as she stopped in the doorway. "I brought her pie."

"I see that. Cameron hates key lime. In a sharing mood?" She took the other chair in front of Chris's desk, didn't seem the least bit embarrassed over what she'd said, and looked pointedly at his piece of pie.

He put the plate down so they could share. "Mi pie es su pie."

Chris grabbed another fork out of her desk drawer and handed it to her. "What's on the schedule for tonight, Jan?" She looked at Kirk. "She's in love."

"I am. It's wonderful." Jan pointed her fork at Kirk. "You lost your chance, big guy. I am head over heels."

He grinned, pleased to see her so happy, and with a good guy, an officer Kirk had brought on board after Decker's head of security had opted to find a new posting. "Cam's good people."

"That he is. But enough about me. Christine is mopey. But Spock's coming back tonight right?"

Both Kirk and Chris shook their heads.

"Well, shit." She seemed to realize she was eating most of the pie. "Did you want some of this?"

"My waistline says no."

"Nothing wrong with your waistline, Captain. Nothing at all." But she happily pulled the plate closer to her.

"We're alone, Jan. Call me Jim." Something he'd never told her she could do before, but she was happy and with someone else, and he loved this sassy new ease she had.

"Jim." She didn't seem overly impressed with the informality, appeared too fixated on the pie. "I skipped lunch." She looked at Chris. "So why is Spock not coming home?"

Chris shrugged, her expression unhappy, so Jan stared at him with the look that used to make him eat his salads and do his reports on time. "Jim?"

"Shuttle problems."

She made a disparaging sound. "Likely story." She seemed to catch his frown, turned to Chris, and said, "I'm kidding. Of course he wants to come home to you. He's missing you, I'm sure."

"Your pep talks need so much work, Jan."

Jan handed Kirk back the pie with a few pieces still left on it and stood. "Okay, you're here with Christine, so I'm going to stop worrying about her. But if the two of you want to join Cam and me, we'll be in the lounge. There's a scotch tasting."

Chris looked at him. "You like scotch."

"I do indeed." He shrugged. "It's up to you."

Jan stood and when he looked up, he caught her mouthing something to Chris while pointing at him. Then she hurried out.

"What did she just say?"

Chris laughed and shook her head. "You don't want to know."

"I do, actually. She's over me, right?"

"Oh, she's over you."

"Good." He smiled and tucked into what was left of his pie. "I like the new Jan."

"Me, too."

"So what did she say?"

"You're not going to let it go, are you?"

"Nope." He gave her the grin that had been known to bring alien warrior princesses to their knees. "And if we go to the tasting and you get drunk, I'll worm it out of you."

"I have antitox."

"You always do. Just one of the many reasons I'm happy Spock is with you. Now, what did Jan just say?"

She sighed. "If you must know, it was 'Dump Spock. Go for him.'"

He laughed. "For me?"

She nodded.

"She doesn't know you very well." Spock was everything to Chris, and Kirk knew it. "You're pretty much the 'long-haul' girl. First Korby, now Spock."

"Actually she does know me. Maybe I should listen to her." She smiled, a strange, very sad smile, but her tone was teasing. "I'm going to skip the tasting. I have reports to finish up."

"You're allowed to have fun, Chris. Leave the reports. I know the captain—I can have a word with him." He winked at her. "He won't bug you about them."

"And what about my boss?"

"I know him, too." He stood up, and took his plate to the recycler. "Come with me. Please?" He almost held out his hand, decided that would be too much, would push her the wrong way.

She finally shook her head in clear capitulation, stood, and took her plate to the recycler. "What's the old saying? You could sell ice to eskimos."

"I've been told worse things."

##

Chapel was mid shift when she heard familiar footsteps and looked up to see Spock. He stood in the doorway of her office, seeming unsure of his reception.

As he should be. "Look who's back."

"You knew I would return."

"Is that really the answer you're going to give after you couldn't be bothered to let me know you were delayed?"

"I told Jim. I knew he would tell you. I was...occupied."

She could feel her face turning red, hated that it did that when she was angry. "What? You decided to buy the woman you fucked for days dinner?"

Her words came out too loud, and she was immediately sorry. He stepped into the room and hit the button to close the door.

"I'm sorry, Spock. Making a scene is the last thing I want to do." She turned back to her terminal. "I'm glad you're home. Go back to the bridge—or did you go there first?" Although she couldn't see him reporting in only to leave immediately to come see her. Not that Jim would say no. Hell, Jim would probably give him the whole day off if he thought Spock would use it with her, making up.

"I have something for you." He sat down. "I was occupied finding these." He handed her a small box.

She opened it to find earrings, obviously expensive, and made of some kind of metal twined together, a dark bronze and a lighter, more golden color. "For me?"

He nodded. "I am late for your birthday and early for Valentine's Day." He leaned in. "Do you not like them, Christine? My mother thought they would appeal to you."

Had his mother said he should get them for her, too? Couldn't he have done it just because it would have made her happy?

No, she had to stop finding fault. He'd tried. She reached over and took his hand. "Thank you."

He seemed to relax. Did he think she'd forget he'd been with someone else because he'd finally given her a gift?

"Got that out of the way, huh? Well, don't get too comfortable." Her tone was acid, and she flinched a little inside. She was mad at him, but she didn't need to be a bitch about this.

He was staring at her in obvious confusion—and possibly some hurt.

"We're not okay yet, Spock, don't you get that? I understand why you didn't want me with you. In theory. But the practical aspect of it is hard for me to deal with. You were with someone else. You should have been with me. And I know it's illogical for me to think both things. But there you go: I'm illogical, I guess."

"I have hurt you. I realize that." He took a breath and it wasn't terribly steady. He clutched her hand in a way that let her know he was aware they were on shaky ground at the moment. "Come to our quarters after your shift. We need to reconnect."

She almost said, "Yes," almost let what happened go, the sincerity in his voice making her weak. She forced herself to ask again, "Why didn't you comm me?"

"I did not know what to say, Christine. When the Pon Farr was over, the priestess had bruises on her cheek. She told me I had been trying to find you in the meld. Repeatedly. I know leaving you here was logical, but I think also it may have been wrong." He let go of her hand.

She thought he might be saying that for her benefit, not because he really believed it. With his hormones so out of whack, he was probably more emotional than when he'd left; he just might lie to make her feel better. "I don't know if it was wrong, Spock. I just know you've hurt me." She handed him the earrings. "Give these to me again after shift. I'll put them on. And I'll take everything else off."

He looked even more confused.

"That's not a test or me kidding. I'm trying to move forward." Even if it felt like they were moving backwards. Even if she didn't think it would have been this hard with the Spock she was first with, right after V'ger.

"You are generous." He rose and walked around, easing her up, pulling her close, almost painfully so. "I love you."

"I know." That was the hell of it all. She pushed that thought away, felt herself melting into him, the way he touched her, his kiss. Everything she'd ever wanted.

But not without its problems.

##

Spock woke and reached for Christine, but she was not in bed. He turned and saw she had pulled a chair closer to the viewport and was watching the star stream. "Are you all right?"

She had been all right—or he had thought she was—when they'd been making love earlier. He'd done as she asked, had given her the earrings again, had even helped her put them on and take everything else off.

She'd seemed to welcome him, joined with him, the same as always. Albeit with perhaps a more concerted effort to rake his back in the throes of passion, which he accepted as some human need for payback. It was illogical to seek reprisal if she accepted the wisdom of what he'd done, as she claimed to do, but he would not point that out.

"Christine?" He sat up and she looked over at him, her expression cold. She had her robe on, and he felt suddenly exposed and pulled the covers over him.

"Was she good?"

He took a deep, steadying breath. This conversation, which he suspected was inevitable, was laden with potential minefields. "She was...a professional."

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning it was emotionless."

"Well, she's Vulcan, ergo..."

"Come back to bed. We can talk here."

She laughed, but it was not a pleasant sound. "I don't think so. I lose my ability to be rational when you're touching me. Maybe you're counting on that?"

"Perhaps it is not that at all. Perhaps I have missed you. I want you to be close to me. Not over there." He held his hand out. "Christine, please?"

"Was she good, Spock?"

He let his hand drop. "There is no good or not good during the Pon Farr. There is only mindless rutting while the fever burns and then exhaustion after. Some part of me knew she was not you and was not pleased."

"Are you saying you don't remember what she was like in bed?" Christine finally stood up and walked over, but she stopped just shy of where he could touch her. "Did you pick her? From some kind of line-up? Available priestesses and all that? What did she look like? Was she blonde and wispy like Leila and Zarabeth?"

"She was not. She had dark hair, as do most Vulcans. She was attractive, as are most Vulcan women. She reminded me of no one. And I did not choose her: the temple she serves at selected who would pair most effectively with me." He rolled over and stared at the ceiling. "I cannot make this better for you, Christine. Are you not picking at scabs as the saying goes?"

"This is more than a scab, Spock. It's a raw wound—sometimes you have to abrade the dead tissue for the wound to heal."

Is that what this was? Dead tissue that would be rubbed off and vacuumed away, leaving healthy skin behind? Or would this always be between them?

He noticed she no longer had the earrings in, and she seemed to realize where his gaze was focused. "They hurt to sleep in. I took them out."

He felt a vague sense of dissatisfaction at them not being in her ears. "Do you like them?"

"They're beautiful."

He thought of the other things he had seen her wear; these were not similar and he had noted that at the jeweler's, which is why his mother had suggested he get them, to give her something different, something uniquely theirs. "That is not precisely what I asked."

"They're from you. They're a present from you. Of course I like them."

He could not read her expression and decided not to dig any further. He had tried; he had gone out of his way. He preferred to think his gift was appreciated.

Would the roses he had ordered for Valentine's Day, following Jim's suggestion of what color to get, please her more? Did Jim know her better than Spock and his mother had?

"Christine, I feel..." What? What was he going to tell her?

She moved closer, sat down on the bed, perched, though, as if she would jump away at any moment. "You feel what?"

"Lost."

She frowned. Clearly this was not the answer she'd expected. "Lost?"

He nodded. "Before V'ger, my way was clear. I would purge my emotions. I would become the perfect Vulcan. After V'ger, my way was also clear. I would embrace my emotions. And you with them. And I do not regret that. But..." He reached for her hand, needed her to stay where she was, to hear him out here on their bed. "I am somewhere in between those states now. I struggle to find where I fit between the man who threw everything in his past away and the man who thought emotion would be the answer he sought." He'd thought he could be like Sybok. After V'ger, when he'd tried to tell Jim what the machine was missing. "This simple feeling" applied not just to how much he cared for Jim but how he saw his brother's path in a new light.

"And where do I fit in all this?"

"I am not sure." He let go of her hand and reached up to touch her face, was gratified when she did not pull away. "I may not make you happy, Christine. Some percentage of the time, I may make you actively unhappy. I cannot be all there is for you."

She jerked away. "Who says you are?" She stood and began to pace. "You think I have nothing else in my life just because I have issues with you going off unilaterally to Vulcan, with possibly no warning for me if I hadn't caught you packing. You slept with another woman. You didn't call to tell me you'd be a day late after you slept with a goddamn other woman." She turned to stare at him, then pointed her finger, thrusting it at him in a most damning way. "You think that you're all that I have? I have a job here—not the one I thought I'd have but still, it's a plum position, and I'm damned good at it. I have friends. Hell, I have family here—this crew has seen me through more than my own family ever has. And yes, now I have you, but you came to me. I didn't chase you down. You seduced me."

She turned to the door, walking in a way that told him she was trying to get out of the room before she started to cry. At the door, she turned. "And the earrings? I don't like them, Spock. They're not me. They're beautiful and I'm sure they'd look pretty on someone else, but they're not me. I don't even wear earrings most of the time. You notice everything—you couldn't remember that?"

And then she was gone.

Spock looked over at the nightstand on her side of the bed. The earrings were there; she'd placed them carefully back in the box.

He sighed, an indulgence but one he thought he'd earned. A part of him wanted to cancel the roses he'd ordered, but he told himself to let that thought go. She was angry. She might be lying about not liking the earrings.

Although she was right. He had not seen her wear earrings—or any jewelry—very often. His mother had been so sure she would like them that he had not wanted to argue that some other type of gift would be better. It was possible he was trying to make something up to his mother as well; she had not been happy at his decision to go to Gol.

He knew Christine was not coming back to his bed so he got up, pulled on a robe, lit his favorite incense and several firepots, and tried to meditate his way to some modicum of inner peace.

He failed, a not unexpected outcome.