Title: A Door Once Opened [Part 7] Series: Star Trek TOS

Type: Fanfiction Pairing: Spock/Christine

Rating: 12

Summary: After the Platonious mission, Spock finds it necessary to compensate Christine for his actions while he was under duress. A mind-meld while she is suffering must be the easiest solution... but a door once opened can move in either direction...

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Star Trek characters or anything from the universe of Star Trek. I am just taking the characters and playing with them a while – promising to restore them whole and unblemished! Thanks to Gene Roddenberry for creating these toys for me to enjoy. Please don't take any of my playing as having any bearing on the actual franchise. Enjoy.

()()()()()

It had been three days since the ambassadorial party had taken residence aboard Enterprise… almost a week since Spock had sat across the table from Christine in the warm arboretum air.

He found himself dwelling on this thought as he completed his duties on the bridge and headed to the Ambassadorial suite to meet with his parents.

As usual, he found his father in meditation, his mother making herself busy with some task or other… until she noticed him at the door and graced him with a warm and welcome smile, reaching out and embracing him as she always had.

Amanda Grayson had always been overly affectionate; it was a trait which made her bonding with the stoic Sarek all the more curious. Perhaps, Spock surmised, Amanda showed more affection as a compensation for her husband's controlled resolve.

As she began the customary, human, questions and conversations regarding Spocks duty-shift, Spock pondered the thought of two opposites attracting in such a manner. It was a scientific rationale in regards to love… but love, an emotion steadfastly controlled, was clearly at work between his parents as Sarek joined them at the table to listen in on the day's events.

When the family moved to take lunch, Spock was surprised to find his mother had made her own brand of Plomeek soup.

"Nurse Chapel supplied me with the ingredients," Amanda explained, a light twinkling in her eye. "It surprised me she knew what I needed…"

Spock felt his head bob, "Christine is a nurse. I have often heard her suggest chicken soup to ailing crew mates as a cure. Knowing I am Vulcan, Plomeek is a viable alternative…"

Sarek rose a brow, but accepted this and went back to his bowl.

Amanda regarded her son, a smile forming, "I see. And has she made you Plomeek soup?"

The question created an illogical knot in Spocks chest, "Yes. Once."

The smile on his mothers lips faltered slightly, as though she had realised she should not press Spock on the subject.

It amazed him how humans could read their loved ones almost as accurately as any telepath. His mother was so attuned to him that she knew, simply from his tone and slight expression, the subject was not to be discussed at that moment.

"We have a tour of the ships gallery this evening," Amanda said, a little quieter.

Spock nodded, "A project led by the humanities division of the academy."

"Art amongst the stars…" Amanda sighed, "simply a wonderful notion."

"A romantic idea, mother."

"There has been great debate," Sarek interjected, "over the benefits of such stimuli on deep space missions. Art is an outlet and an inspiration, son."

"Several of the ships main conference rooms were converted to house the installations," Spock informed them, "on a star ship; space is a premium."

"Have you been to see the exhibition?" Amanda asked.

Spock blinked, "I had considered visiting in a few days."

"Were you thinking of going with someone in particular?"

Spock felt his eyes tighten on his mother, who now wore a grin as bright as the fuchsia dress she had chosen that evening...

Sarek looked between his wife and son, somehow lost as to the communication occurring between the two.

"I had not considered..."

"Nurse Chapel," his mother suggested, "perhaps..?"

Spock saw his fathers full attention turn toward him and he gulped back the irrational panic trying to leap up his throat by reminding himself that there was no need for alarm and his mother knew very few crew members onboard Enterprise.

Spock rose a brow; hoping that was enough to curtail the conversation.

And, for reasons that confirmed how much his mother loved him, she remained silent.

"I noticed you had called her Christine, earlier Spock…" Sarek said, now leaning forward into the conversation. "An officers given name is not the usual designation you attribute to your subordinates."

"It is her name," Spock reasoned, noticing his father nod and look toward his wife.

Amanda was visibly holding back her smile. "Mother, may I ask you the source of your amusement?"

"Nothing at all," the human chuckled. "In fact… Sarek, I should like to see the gallery… I should also like a personal attaché for my visit."

The Ambassador nodded his head, slowly, "Reasonable."

Spock felt his heart flip in his side, "I can escort you, mother…"

Amanda's grey eyes widened, "Oh no… I wouldn't want you to neglect your duties…" then she leaned across and cradled his face; the look in her eye softened.

Spock felt his insides melt; he loved both his parents, but his connection to his mother was deep and beyond his logical upbringing… and as much as he felt a bond with his father, he knew it was not the same.

"It is no chore to escort you," he admitted, "It would be a pleasure."

Sarek rose a brow.

Spock had meant the human term to express his appreciation for his mother's affection, but was surprised to hear her response.

"Take your father," she suggested, "I can request another to escort me…"

And, to please his mother, Spock could not refuse…

()()()

The opening night of the ships gallery appeared to be a resounding success… Jim, looking noble in his dress uniform, smiled and joyfully introduced the exploration of artistic expression from across the federation and then adjourned to the buffet and bar while the esteemed guests made their way about the maze of paintings and sculptures.

He and his father stopped before a large installation, hues of blues and greens washed over a cascade of crystals from a thousand planets falling from a whitened mannequin…

Vulcans were able to observe and reflect in silence; this was something he enjoyed sharing with his father… it made him feel their minds were alike.

Silent meditation, however, was a state of being most humans were unable to maintain for long…

"Waste of perfectly good dilitheum, if you ask me…"

Arran laughed and took a tighter hold on Mr Scotts arm, "Monty… there's no denying the crystals usefulness, but, perhaps recognising their beauty is allowed, on occasion…" she reached up so her lips almost brushed his ear, "sometimes it's worth more than even a starship…"

The engineer sniffed, "I dinnea know which ships you have travelled upon, hen… but this ship is worth more than most mining colonies…"

Arran flicked her hair and cuddled into Scotts side, "Whatever you say… she's a lovely ship."

Scott beamed.

"I think it's beautiful," a familiar voice breathed in wonder…

Spock felt his insides clench.

"I like the way the colours pay off the stones," Christine said as she approached the statue with her guest…

"It is lovely," Amanda agreed, "all of those stones, from across the stars have an equal beauty in their uniqueness…" and she looked to her husband.

As naturally as the night follows the day, Sarek held out his hand to his wife; neither of them looked to the movement, but both hands met perfectly, drawn by the other.

Spock was always astounded by the demonstrations his father would make, in such perfect counter-balance to the taught state of emotionless control…

He looked to Christine and wondered if he was so obvious in his affection…

"It reminds me of home," an ensign added, as a crowd gathered about the installation, "the blues are like the sea…"

"I think someone wanted to get paid," another added.

"It's about what's inside us," someone said.

"What I derive from the piece is a universe in turmoil, wishing to understand it's variety and unity," Sarek said, his deep, strong voice commanding attention from all those in the area… "The artistic revelation within this piece is the transcendence of the soul and common peculiarity amongst all beings in the cosmos that their differences are but similarities and their reflections are windows to theirs and others states of being…"

Spock observed, with a barely tolerable note of amusement, all those within earshot of his father's review were almost dumbstruck…

Then his mother sighed, a far-away look in her eye, "Such a romantic…"

Sarek rose his brow, "A perfectly logical review…"

And Spock realised, with a degree of alarm, they were flirting!

"Excuse us," his father said, a smile dangerously close to erupting as he led Amanda away down the hall.

Spock felt Christine at his side before she sighed, "They really do love each other, don't they?"

How could he reply?

"Yes they do," Arran answered, dropping her hold on Scott and moving to the Chief Nurse.

"They have been married for many years," Spock stated.

Christine and Arran both rolled their eyes.

"Are you here with Mr Spock, Christine?"

The two commanders and the nurse all tensed when Arran asked the question… the alien eyed the humans and half-vulcan… "Not the right time to ask?"

Spock opened his mouth to speak and found nothing to say…

He looked to Christine, who seemed in a similar state…

"I believe Christine was escorting the lady ambassador," Scott explained, crossing to whisper in his intendeds ear, "And the situation is a wee bit delicate, hen…"

Aaron rolled her eyes, "Tedious…" and with a flick of her long hair, took a hold of Christines arm, "Come on Christie," she pouted, "let's you and I leave the boys to exchange notes…"

Christine's ocean eyes widened to the point Spock felt the need to apologise, but the blonde was pulled away by the alien before the chance.

He heard the engineer at his side chuckled, "Think it's the lasses who will be exchanging notes…" then he headed back toward the buffet and bar…

Spock felt a note of concern and confusion, so followed, "How so?"

Scott poured a generous drink for himself, angling the decanter at Spock, who declined, "Ah well… you know what women talk about…"

Spock frowned, "No… what do they talk about?"

Scott gulped back his drink and coughed a little, "Well… the same thing we talk about…"

"Mr Scott," Spock shook his head, "we discuss engineering performance and modifications to ships systems and procedures."

The engineer rolled his eyes and poured himself a larger helping of scotch, "No, Sir… I meant…" he rolled the glass around awkwardly, "well… I suppose they do discuss performance, modification and procedures… just… more about…"

There was a silence as the human looked, pleadingly, at him…

Spock was clearly missing something…

"Agh!" The man intoned, "For pities sake, fine…" and he finished his drink, "Fine! Sir, they are almost definitely comparing-"

The revelation was cut short by the siren of red alert…

Training took over, and Spock followed Jim out of the function and to the bridge.

Red alert; highest emergency.

There would be time for everything else later.