A Friend in Need

Part 2

"You seem happy," Montenegro said as she passed Chapel some padds to sign off on before the latest team headed off.

"Do I not normally seem happy?"

"You normally seem efficient."

"Ouch." Chapel laughed. Was that how her staff saw her? All work and no life? And how funny would they find it if they knew a Vulcan was the source of her happiness? "Does that mean I'm not efficient now?"

Montenegro laughed. "No. Of course not. You just...your smile is different."

"Is there a pool on this?"

Montenegro blushed.

"Really? Really?" She handed back the padd. "Give me the details."

"The question is who."

Chapel laughed. "Who have you picked?"

"I haven't picked anyone. You're my mentor. It would be bad taste to engage in an office pool."

"And gambling on the job is illegal." Chapel rolled her eyes at that one—they'd all be in the brig if anyone enforced it. Pools were a way of life in emergency ops. "I think you're waiting till you see me with someone."

Montenegro gave her the most innocent expression possible and then laughed. "Possibly. He has to show up eventually."

"But by then all the names will be gone. The waiting game is not without risk. What if that person—and what makes you think it's a he?—shows up while you're away?"

"Is it a woman? Some people, who shall remain a mystery, said it might be a woman, but I think it's a guy."

"I'm not saying anything." She tried not to laugh. She was actually glad Sarek hadn't stopped in to see her—she wanted these suckers to work for that prize.

Not that she wasn't seeing him. She was, frequently and at very nice places. But he was taking his sweet time getting them anywhere private. She knew why he was doing that, though, and she appreciated it. When they did come together, it would no longer be about Amanda or a biological imperative. It would be about them.

"You've got that look again. Damn it, Captain, I'm your protégé, aren't I? Couldn't you toss me a clue? The team's having to travel out with Harriman. I can't stand him."

"My condolences. Truly. Although it is my duty to remind you that he is still an officer and a superior one."

"I'll be good. He's just so..." Montenegro shook her head and scrunched up her face, like she'd just caught a whiff of a bad smell. "I wish I'd known Kirk."

"I wish you had, too." She took a deep breath and then said, "He's not human."

"Kirk?"

Chapel made an impatient face.

"Ohhhhhh. Not even a little bit?"

"Not even a little bit." Shit—had someone picked Spock? "That's all I'm giving you. Now, enough time wasted on that. Say hello to Demora for me. And once you're on Kelesta, keep your head down and your eyes open." The old ops goodbye.

"Aye aye, ma'am." Montenegro stopped to say something to someone Chapel couldn't see, pointed back toward her, then she headed right for Murphy's desk at comms. Since he generally ran the pools, it looked like the waiting game was over. Had Chapel done something to tip her off?

She got up and saw Sarek walking around the back of ops toward her office. His expression gave nothing away, but Montenegro glanced at him, then at Chapel, and gave her a big smile.

Chapel rolled her eyes at her, then gestured for Sarek to come into her office. "To what do I owe this visit, Ambassador?" She pitched her voice lower, just for them. "You don't usually visit."

"I have been called away. I do not know how long I will be gone. I wanted to...tell you in person."

She grinned. "I like that. I don't like that you'll be gone, but such is your life."

"Indeed."

"Amanda went with you."

He nodded.

"I won't be able to."

"I know. We will create our own way."

She felt a surge of relief. They hadn't talked about this. But he sounded sincere and unconcerned. "Are you going somewhere dangerous?"

"No. Tedious, I fear." He met her eyes. "I will think about you often."

"When things get extra boring? And who said romance was dead?"

His lips ticked up more than normal—he was always susceptible to her stealth hits of humor. "I will see you when I return."

"Damn well better." She stood, told the office computer, "Privacy." Her door slid shut. "Can I kiss you goodbye?"

"Yes." He moved to her and took her into his arms, kissing her before she could kiss him. Typical Vulcan—not that she was going to complain since she liked how he kissed.

Very, very much.

"When I get back, perhaps it is time we ate in? " He met her eyes, and she saw a host of emotions in his.

"I'm game." This time she leaned in and kissed him, just a short one, then she patted him on the rear and laughed at his expression. "Not Amanda, sorry."

"You think she never did that?" His eyebrow went up and he said, "Computer, open door."

"Safe trip, Ambassador," she said, a little more loudly than necessary, once the door was open.

He glanced into the bay, then said, "That young woman who directed me to your office—"

"Just put your name in a pool on who I'm dating. Apparently I look happy so they know something's up."

"How did they think you appeared before?"

"Efficient."

"I would take that as a compliment, although I find it satisfying to know I make you happy. What will she win?"

"A bottle of expensive hooch, usually. We're not very creative—use all that energy on the emergencies."

"Logical." He took a deep breath. "I find it difficult to leave."

"Shall I walk you out?"

"Do not trouble yourself. I would find it just as difficult to leave you at the door to ops as here."

"Wow, you are hitting those right out of the park, Mister."

He looked pleased. "Romance is much like diplomacy."

She made a face, a joke between them about how she viewed diplomacy, "Then you are doing it wrong, Sarek."

"I think not. Witness your happiness." At that he nodded gently and walked out.

She waited a few minutes, then wandered over to where Montenegro was working. "Did you get your pick in?"

"Oh, yeah." Montenegro looked up at her. "Wow. Impressive."

"Yeah?"

"Smart—well, I guess that goes without saying because they all are. Powerful. Handsome." She sighed happily. "And it's eighteen-year-old scotch this time. I'm so going to enjoy winning."

"You were just lucky he walked in when he did."

"Luck is our friend." Another ops saying. Montenegro stood up. "Well, we're off. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"Me? Miss Efficient?" She laughed and headed back to her office. She realized she was smiling, a silly grin that Sarek brought out of her more and more. Ironic that a Vulcan made her more...what? Human? Ironic, but nice.

##

Chapel hit the comms going off at the station she'd commandeered. Others around her were doing the same, trying to get answers as the situation on Kelesta went further to shit and took three moons and a neighboring planet, Sarga V, with it.

"Give me a status on our team," she said to no one in particular as she closed down her last comm and turned to the room. There were more than her team, of course, working on the planet, but she wasn't responsible for them the same way as the five-person team she'd sent.

Cassat looked pale. "Two dead, ma'am, one critically injured. Two uninjured."

"Damn it." She waited as he listened to more info, saw his expression change, a look of deep sorrow coming over his face.

"Cale and D'Lthr are dead." He met her eyes. He and D'Lthr were close, possibly in a relationship—Chapel had never been sure.

"I'm sorry," she mouthed to him, and he nodded.

"Montenegro is the one in critical condition. Largent and Liu are working from Excelsior. Our people are in sickbay on the ship."

"Let me know if you get updates," Chapel said, her eyes falling on Montenegro's station before she turned back to the comms, which were on fire again. She took a moment to thank the fates that Harriman had moved on and Sulu was managing the situation, then she let it all go and went back to doing what she did: handling things.

She was pulled away for several meetings in the CINC's office—Kelesta was part of a cluster of strategically placed planets and there was considerable interest in how things went.

When she got back, she passed Cassat, who said, "Do you want anything to eat, ma'am? I'm making a run to the cafeteria."

"I've got energy bars in my office. Thanks, though." She kept going, stopped to pour herself more coffee, then headed to her office to eat and pop some stims.

Not recommended, but she had no idea how long this crisis was going to last, and her people needed her awake and leading.

Her comm went off and she saw it was a message from Jan. She hurried to open it.

Jan looked harried on the recording. "I've only got a sec. Your girl's fine—out of danger. Though it was close—they thought they lost her, but she's made of strong stuff, just like us. Thought you'd want to know."

Chapel blinked back tears she didn't have time for. Wrote a quick text-only to Jan that just said "Thank you," then leaned back.

Montenegro wasn't just like them. Emilia had started in Emergency Ops. She'd never gotten a chance to be on a ship the way Chapel and Jan had, to see what other possibilities were out there for a young officer. She'd spent the last two years risking her life and emulating Chapel.

And nearly dying for it.

But she was out of danger so Chapel had to let that go and move on. Deal with this. The way she always did. God help her but it felt like this place was in her blood. Most of the people who'd been in Ops when she'd started had moved on. Should she have done the same?

Shit, this was not the time to wonder about her career choices. She got up and went out to the bay, where the noise and the energy and managed chaos would put her back in the state she needed to be in—the state her people needed her to be in.

She got called away multiple times for updates and status reports, was ready to drop as she walked back from the latest one. She was pondering diverting for some of the espresso in the cafeteria when she saw Sarek in the hallway. "You're back?"

He moved to her, seemed to be able to read how tired she was. "How many stims have you taken?"

"It's immaterial. What are you doing back?"

"The meetings were wrapped up expeditiously to all partys' surprise. The crisis on Kelesta was on every channel as I traveled back. I thought of you."

"I lost two people. Almost another." She took a deep breath. "And there are a lot more casualties than that." But not on the Excelsior. Not yet and hopefully not at all.

He surprised her by reaching for her arm, lifting it and studying her hand, which was shaking. "I may be able to help you."

"I have coffee. And I have pills, Sarek. It's the Ops way."

"As is alcohol. I am aware of that. But if I have a better method of helping you, would it not be prudent to try?"

"Will it take long?"

"It will not."

"Here?" She looked around the corridor.

"Your office." He was already turning her. For once he let her lead, following her without comment into her office, then waiting as she told the computer to give them privacy.

"What are you going to do? A meld?"

"Sometimes, when there is true resonance between partners, one can buoy another."

"Resonance? Do you mean a bond? Because I don't have time for that, Sa—"

His hand over her lips shut her up. "You are human and lack the requisite psi capability. There can be no bond between us."

She pushed his hand away. "I didn't realize that." She found that idea a relief, had been worried about sharing more than she should if they were bonded.

"Our ability to meld is unaffected, which is fortunate because it allows me to do this..." He put his fingers on her face and was inside her mind.

She could feel his dismay at how chaotic her energy was, but she could also feel his pride that she was handling this, that nothing would stop her. He moved closer, and while it would have been sensual normally, this time, she felt as if someone had thrown her into a cool lake on a hot summer day. Time stopped for a moment, and she felt a shiver and the sensation of her cares being slipped away from her. Then he withdrew slowly, and everything came back.

But her hands no longer shook, and she didn't feel as if she'd been living on caffeine and stims. "Thank you."

"You will need to sleep when this is over. Your body may resist with all the stimulants in your system. I can ensure you sleep despite that. Come to the residence. I do not care what time you are finally finished. Come to me. Do you understand?"

She leaned in and kissed him. As she pulled away, she meant to tell him thank you again, but it came out, "I love you."

His eyes were very gentle as he pushed a tendril of her hair back into place. "As I do you. I could not have helped you were it not so. Now, I will let you get back to work."

She smiled and gestured toward the ceiling, the general direction everyone thought of for the computer.

"Open door," he said, with a look of satisfaction.

"I know you like to lead," she said, feeling light enough to joke even if what lay out in the bay would not be a joking matter. She felt as if he'd given her more than energy: he'd given her perspective and distance.

"I am a Vulcan male. It is what you are signing up for."

"Well aware, dear." She grinned. "Now, git. Someone—probably a hundred someones—wants me to fix this." Or help to do so. This wasn't all on her.

"And you will handle the requests to the best of your considerable abilities. It is what you do." His expression turned graver. "I am sorry for your casualties."

"Me, too." She sighed, hating the idea of the comms she would have to make to their family—comms she made far too often in this job. Then she pushed that thought aside and followed him out, heading to her station, not bothering to watch him walk out, although she thought she could sense his eyes on her as she went back to work.

##

Chapel felt like she was going to fall down as she made her way to the Vulcan embassy. The calm energy that Sarek had given her was long gone and more caffeine and stims had kept her going, but now she felt like she was going to shake apart.

She was getting too goddamn old for this. Running on empty was a game for the young.

Then she thought of Montenegro, sleeping away in an induced healing coma in Excelsior's sickbay, of Cale and D'Lthr in that same sickbay's morgue facilities, and decided maybe it wasn't a game for anyone.

She stumbled up the embassy stairs, wishing she'd worn sunglasses—why the hell was it such a bright damn day? The guards waved her through, and she sighed in relief as the cool and slightly dark interior of the embassy welcomed her. She walked slowly down to Semek's desk, and he nodded at her before she got all the way, standing and coming to her.

"Captain Chapel. The ambassador is in meetings for the next hour, but he told me to tell you to make yourself at home in his private chambers." His eyes narrowed slightly. "Are you all right?"

"I've been working for too long. Emergencies: not something you can take a break from."

"Indeed not. I admire what you do, Captain. I am not sure I would want to work at that pace for such a sustained period."

She smiled. "Sarek keeps you running."

"It is not the same, and we both know it." His eyebrow went up, but it was in a good-natured way. "Please, go up. Everything you need is there."

"Everything but the ambassador." Shit, had she said that out loud?

"He will be there shortly." Semek's expression and tone didn't change—he must not think her comment strange, then. But if she was going to Sarek's rooms by Sarek's wish, why would he? It was probably only logical to deduce what was going on. Besides, Semek had probably made the reservations for all their dinners.

"Thank you." She smiled and turned, having to stop and muster her energy to go up the massive staircase to Sarek's rooms. She walked in and saw a note on the table near the door. In exquisite handwriting it was addressed to her, so she opened it and read, "There are refreshments if you are hungry or thirsty. If you wish to take a shower, you will find towels in the bathroom. If you can sleep on your own, the bed is turned down."

She peeked into his bedroom. The bed was turned down with the precision she'd expect from a Vulcan.

She picked at the fruit and cheese that had been set out for her. Cut a piece of bread from a loaf still warm from the stasis board it sat on. She eyed the wine—it was her favorite—but opted for water. She had enough chemicals in her as it was.

Then, not able to stand another moment in her uniform, she took it off and went into the bathroom, peeling off her underwear and bra. She saw a robe reflected in the mirror. She turned, took it off the hook on the back of the door, and realized it was a thing of beauty. Silk, very soft, of a royal blue and navy pattern with gold. Almost a paisley. It tied in the front. Had he had this made for her? It would have been far too long for Amanda, so she knew it wasn't hers.

She put the robe back on the door and got in the shower, letting the hot water cascade over her, using the fragrant soap—some kind of citrus. Had he gotten this for her, too? She didn't remember him smelling of this scent—and Amanda had always preferred florals. Chapel had told him she loved fragrances with lemon, especially the ones that reminded her of the Amalfi Coast. He might have picked this up on one of his missions.

However he got it, the smell took her back to Sorrento and Capri and Naples. Times she'd spent with Roger during a vacation. Happy times.

God, that girl she had been would never believe where she'd end up. So far away from science and with no Roger.

She rinsed her hair with shampoo that had been put in a little niche in the shower stall. It didn't have any scent, nothing to compete with the lovely soap, which she used again and again, trying to wash the crisis—and all her worries—off her.

Finally, she got out of the shower and dried off. She finger combed her hair into some semblance of order, then slipped on the lovely robe. It was a little too big, but in that good way, when a robe felt like something you could cuddle up in forever, not something you'd drown in and was obviously the wrong size. She studied her reflection, the dark circles under her eyes, the flush to her skin from too many stims.

Turning away, she went into the main room and ate a few more grapes, then curled up in the armchair that had been Amanda's favorite. It still smelled vaguely of her perfume if Chapel laid her face just so against the fabric. She found the scent comforting.

She knew lying down would be a losing proposition. Despite how tired she was, the stims were rushing through her. If she'd gone home, she had meds to counteract them. Was it wise to have come here instead? Could Sarek help her better than her handy stock of drugs?

Why wasn't she more worried that she had such a handy stock of drugs?

She swallowed hard, then got up, walking to the comm panel, debating trying to use it to call Jan, to check on Montenegro.

Jan was probably sleeping. Unless she too had been running on stims. Or maybe she was with Sulu, using all that energy for other purposes. They were involved now. Finally. Sulu had waited forever.

Sometimes dreams did come true. Chapel closed her eyes, remembering what an ass she had made of herself over Spock. What was he going to think of her relationship with his father? Had Sarek told him anything about this?

She left the comm panel and began to pace, trying to outrun the annoying energy zinging through her. She wanted to lie down more than anything, felt as if she might fall down if she remained standing too much longer.

Where the hell was Sarek?

No. This wasn't Sarek's fault. He didn't tell her to pump herself full of stims. He'd been appalled that she had to some extent. She'd felt that in the meld, even if she knew he would never say it. Unless she did it all the time, then he might.

The door opened and he walked in. He closed the door without turning, staring at her, a look of satisfaction and...possession clear on his face. "The robe suits you."

"You had it made for me?"

He nodded. "I estimated your proportions based on our time during the Pon Farr."

She smiled. "And added some inches I hope to compensate for how well you pamper me with good food and wine."

"I did not need to add inches. You do not eat well at work usually." He said it more as a fact than a criticism.

Since he was right, she chose not to argue. "It's beautiful. Thank you. And the soap?"

He moved to her, pulled her close, and leaned in, obviously smelling her skin. "You like it?"

"I do, do you?"

"Very much. I would not have bought it for you if I had not."

She laughed. "Logical." Then her smile faded. "I'm so tired, Sarek. I have meds at home."

"Let me help you instead."

"They may be more efficacious."

"Your lack of faith in me is disconcerting." He put his arm around her, urged her into the bedroom. "Take off the robe, beautiful as it is. This will be better accomplished skin to skin." He pulled off his robe, then his undergarments.

She slipped out of the robe, laid it over the bench at the end of the bed, then got under the covers. He slid in next to her and pulled her close, running his hands up and down her skin, the feeling half soothing, half sexual and arousing. She could feel him against her: he wanted her.

"Make love to me," she murmured.

"I will. But not right now. You need sleep, not sex."

"Sex is nice."

He brushed her hair back. "I will do what is right for you, Christine. What is best for you. And satisfying our desires is not what is best for you. You have been awake too long. Now, close your eyes."

She did what he said, and he set his fingers on the meld point and was inside her mind with seemingly no effort. She smiled, loving that each meld was easier.

Then he started to do something she didn't understand, pulling parts of her consciousness away, filling her with his own presence, calming and so very safe. "Sleep," he said or maybe thought.

She was conscious of his body both from how it felt pressed against her and from his perspective, how she felt pressed against him.

"You once told me you would do anything for me, Christine. Now I will tell you the same thing. Sleep. Let me bear your burdens for a time."

The jittery feeling was gone. All she felt were the waves of exhaustion, pulling her down and down, as if she had jumped off a cliff into the sea. It felt like warm water was pulling her further out, peace filling her. The smell of Sorrento was all around her, and Sarek's voice saying, "We will go there someday. I have never been," making her smile.

"I love you so," she murmured as she let go and fell fast asleep.

She woke hours later, feeling more refreshed than she could remember. Sarek was curled up against her, his hands no longer on the meld points and she wondered how long he'd had to bear her burdens. She rubbed his arm, enjoying the heat of him, the solidity.

She'd slept alone for so long. Even when the friends she had sex with stayed over, she'd still felt alone in the bed. But this was different. He was...hers.

She realized he was awake and watching her, the sweetest look on his face. "Good morning."

"Good morning." He touched her face, clearly reading what she was feeling—how she was feeling. "You need more sleep."

"I'm fine. And I have to get back to work. The after-action reports are going to be hell." She snuggled closer. "But I have time, if you want to...?" She smiled as seductively as she could.

"I want to."

"Good." She let her hand slide down his chest, to his stomach and then lower, finding him, holding him, squeezing and moving, and he closed his eyes and murmured, "Christine. Yes."

Then he was pulling her onto him, and she eased down and moaned at the feel of him. He stroked her as she rode him, clearly using his touch telepathy to figure out exactly where she was and what would get her the rest of the way. The rest of the way was amazing, and she cried out as she came, then bit back the sound when she realized he was making very little noise as he followed her home.

"There is no need to restrain yourself. This walls are quite soundproof." He almost smiled. "I may be silent but that is my way outside of the Pon Farr. Amanda too enjoyed expressing her pleasure, and I did not mind."

"If you didn't like giving pleasure so much, there would be no need to spring for all that extra baffling material in the walls."

"I find the reward worth the expense." He pulled her down and kissed her. "I would have you here always. In this bed, naked, with me this way."

"Always. Never leave?"

He nodded. "I believe you have no idea of the level of desire I have for you."

"I like that." She nuzzled his neck, moving to his ear, finding what moved him and what did not. "I hate to leave you now that you've expressed your wish to never get out of this bed. But I have to."

"You could return to this bed at your earliest convenience."

She laughed. "I could and will. It's time we ate in."

His lips turned up, and his eyes were amused. "Yes. It is." He kissed her, a very long, very passionate kiss, and then let go of her. "Go."

She picked up her uniform and made a face—it was wrinkled and none too fresh. "I have to get another uniform at my apartment."

"Take the flitter back to your apartment."

"Rather an indulgence, isn't it? "

He gave the Vulcan equivalent of a shrug.

She rubbed her back. "Besides, I could use the walk. Been lying down for too long."

He motioned toward the immense closet that Chapel had always lusted after. "If you wish, you are welcome to keep any personal items you might need here."

"You're giving me a drawer?"

"I will give you an entire wardrobe. There are several not in use."

She laughed. "Deal. And you can keep some things at my place too. I don't have as copious a selection of furniture but we can squeeze you some space in the closet and dresser. A change of venue is nice—adds variety, right?"

"Indeed. And it will be efficient to have items there. It will allow more time for making love."

She smiled. "Such a human term."

"But apt. I see no harm in speaking in terms that accurately describe what is occurring—even if the terms are exceedingly human."

She moved over to him, wanting to touch his face, feeling a wave of tenderness for him that she needed to express. "Making love is also a very emotional way to put it."

"Yes." His tone was mock severe and disapproving. "Most unseemly." Then he pulled her down onto the bed and kissed her again. He moved over and into her, and she closed her eyes and let him do whatever he wanted as he made love to her again. For a very long time.

She ended up using the flitter since he'd kept her in bed so long, both to get to her apartment and then to Starfleet Command. It was an indulgence, and she loved every minute of it.

##

Chapel looked through her notes on the padd she was holding as her team stood around her in the main bay. "All right, we've got mudslides on Cenac. I need four. Who feels like slogging through that?"

Eight hands went up, Montenegro's was one of them. "Fine, Wainwright, Cassat, Liu and M'Tak. And I know you're all doing this for the free booze they serve us whenever we're there."

There were some murmurs of "Got that right" and "Love that place" and she laughed softly.

"Okay, next. Clean-up from an ion storm on Vega Omega Seven. Borrrring. Two, please."

Four hands went up. Not the same people as before, except for Montenegro. "Sulek and Carr. Thanks, folks. That's it for today." She watched them go back to their stations—all except Montenegro. "Something wrong, Lieutenant?"

"Yep. Can we talk privately?"

"Sure." She walked to her office, could hear how angry Montenegro's footsteps sounded. "Privacy," she said, as soon as they were clear of the door.

"Why did you ignore me just now?"

"I didn't ignore you. I simply didn't choose you."

"Why? Since when am I not capable of slogging through mud or cleaning shit up?"

"You're recovering." She sat down and motioned for Montenegro to take the chair on the other side of her desk but the woman stayed standing.

"I'm recovered. And I'm bored shitless. You have me on the most crap tasks possible. I'm used to doing five things at once—I learned that from you." She stopped and took a deep breath. "I have a doctor and you're not her. She cleared me two days ago. Why are you doing this to me?"

"Emilia, I don't know if you understand this but you were dead. On the table. They had to resuscitate you."

"So what? You've been dead on a table three times."

Chapel could feel her expression freeze into an angry one. "How did you get into my medical file?"

"I didn't." Montenegro finally sat, and Chapel thought it was an attempt to placate her. "Your medical file is close hold. Our ops reports, on the other hand, aren't. I just went through all the ones you've been on."

"All of them?"

"What the hell else do I have to do? You died three times. Once shot. Once drowned in a flash flood. Once smoke inhalation. And yet here you still are." She leaned forward. "You taught me to be like you. Why hold me back?"

"But you're not like me, Emilia. You came to us straight out of the Academy. You've never served on a ship or on a starbase. There are other jobs out there. You can't become a lifer if you haven't lived yet."

"Why not? Helping people isn't a good way to live a life? I don't want to be on a ship. I'm so bored when we're in transit. I watch what the crew on the ships do, and I think it looks excruciating."

"It's not dull."

"Maybe not. But I believe I'd be bored. And I can't live from one red alert to another. This is what I want to do." She studied Chapel. "Send me with the others to do clean-up."

"No."

She expected Montenegro to protest or get angry, but she just leaned back and looked down. Then she met her eyes and said, "I know Admiral Cartwright was your mentor."

"Common knowledge."

"Fine. But...if you'd had the opportunity to stop him from going down the path he was on, wouldn't you have taken it?"

"Of course. What does that have to do with anything?"

Montenegro swallowed hard. "I admire you. I'm your friend, not just the junior officer you've mentored, even if you don't maybe realize that. But I think I'm not the one that needs to get out of Ops. I think you are."

"What?"

"You're burned out. You weren't before but these last few months—you've changed. And this thing with me: it's not about me. It's about you and how tired you are and how you're sick of making those comms to our families when we lose someone—do you think we don't know how hard that must be for you?"

Chapel leaned back, swallowing hard. "That's no reason to run away."

"Who said anything about running away? Commander Rand told me you were on the short list for captain of the Hippocrates."

"What?" How the hell did Janice know that? Unless Sulu had heard something and told her.

"You'd be great at that. That crew would be so lucky. You need to get out of here, Christine."

Chapel closed her eyes. "Fine, you can go to the mud or the clean-up. Whichever you want."

"Does that mean you'll think about what I've said? I know I'm out of line, but I had to say it."

Chapel opened her eyes and shook her head. "No, you're my friend, Emilia—I do know that. You're not out of line. I am...tired. But it's just been a bad run."

"It's not going to get better. And we both know that." Montenegro stood. "I hate mud, free booze notwithstanding."

"Have fun with clean-up, then. I'll amend the orders for three."

"Thank you." She walked around the desk and surprised Chapel with an impromptu and slightly awkward hug. "You mean the world to me." Then she let her go, said, "Open door," and hurried out.

Chapel amended the orders and sent them on before she could forget, and then sat—it required too much energy to think very hard about what Montenegro had said, to consider her options.

She was just so damn tired.

##

She lay in bed with Sarek in his chambers, one of the negligees she'd brought over and stored in the enormous wardrobe half off her thanks to his attentions. He seemed to approve of her lingerie selection even if she never seemed to wear it for long.

She shrugged the rest of it off and pushed it off the bed, then picked delicacies off a cart full of food that he'd had sent up from the kitchen. "This is something I could get used to."

"I fully expect you to." He nudged her toward some Spanish cheese, and she laughed and grabbed a piece, holding it to his mouth. He took it delicately and closed his eyes as he chewed.

"It is good." She took a piece for herself, then some more grapes. She never had fresh fruit—or any interesting food, really—at her place. The embassy always had something yummy, shuttled in from all over the planet and beyond. "So my protégé told me today I should get out of Ops. That I'm burnt out."

"Do you believe she is right?"

"Do you?"

He shook his head. "This is not about what I think. It is your career and you must decide. Is she right?"

Chapel took a huge strawberry, putting off answering as she bit into it, enjoying the sweetness. Finally, she finished, and said softly, "Yes."

"Then what are you going to do?" He pointed to the strawberries and like a dutiful serf she fed a small one to him, laughing as he kissed her fingers after he was done eating.

"I'm on the short list for the Hippocrates."

"The flagship of the medical fleet. Quite an honor."

She nodded.

"Yet you are not happy?"

"I don't want to be on a ship. I don't want to leave you."

"Fortunate. I would also prefer that. But you are tired and you should wait until you are rested to make a decision."

She laughed softly. "No, I should wait until they actually offer it to me."

"I stand corrected." His lips tilted slightly, his eyes were soft. "You wish to stay with me?"

"I do. But I'm not Amanda. I can't just follow you around as your..."

"My mate. My wife." He stroked her hair back.

She frowned. "Did you just propose?"

"I believe I did."

"Oh. Okay."

"Is that an acceptance?"

She laughed harder. "Yeah, I guess it was." She leaned in and kissed him. "Least romantic proposal ever."

"Which should come as no surprise since it is I you will marry." He sat up. "What if you were not with me solely as my wife?"

"Go on."

"There are generally two types of individuals drawn to diplomacy. Those with large egos that see glory ahead."

"You hate those types." It was the kind of person he bitched the most about after missions. Even if he would never admit to bitching.

"I do not select them for my staff."

"Same diff." She grabbed the plate of strawberries and put it between them. "And the second type?"

"Those who desire peace and prosperity for all. A sincere, driving need. My staff is full of such individuals, both Vulcan and otherwise."

"Sounds like a good thing."

"They have a tendency to desire the end-state to such a degree that they superimpose it on the present. They see the best in people. At times this has..."

"Bit you in the ass?" She took another strawberry, extra dark and so damn sweet.

"Precisely. I need someone who tends to look at situations as they are. Who expects negativity but is not pessimistic about our chances to change that."

"You need me. Or someone like me."

"You will do nicely."

She fed him another strawberry. "That's because someone like me won't lie in bed with you and pretend you're a Roman emperor, peeling grapes and all."

"You have never peeled a grape for me."

"And I'm not going to start now." She lay back. "Can you make this happen? I don't want to leave Starfleet to try it."

"You will not have to. I am able to finesse just about anything I choose to focus on. If I want another Starfleet billet added, it will happen. The question is do you want me to do it now or do you want to wait to see if you are offered the Hippocrates?"

"If we wait, and I turn it down, I will fuck my career over beyond repair. One does not turn down the Hippocrates."

He showed no surprise at her language, but then they'd been together long enough for him to know she was way too fond of swearing. Fortunately, she could temper it when necessary.

"Do it now, Sarek. Get the ball moving. So I'm taken. They'll be relieved. One less qualified candidate to worry about."

"As you wish. I will get a meeting with the CINC tomorrow."

"You don't just get a meeting with the CINC." She saw his expression change to the one he always wore when she underestimated just how much access he had. "Fine, maybe you do. Go forth and create a billet."

He pulled her down and kissed her. "You will increase my staff's efficiency—and my own. And we will have this."

"And I don't want to lose this. Not now that I finally have it." She ran her fingers through his hair, pressing gently, an impromptu head massage. "You really want to get married?"

"I do. You are mine. And I am yours. I want to formalize that."

She started to laugh. "This will be Spock's worst nightmare."

"That is an exaggeration." He gestured for her to bring the cheese plate over, too. "And even if it is, he is rarely here."

"True. He'll be here next week, though. Or were you not going to tell me?"

He did not look surprised that she knew. "Semek told you I had made reservations for dinner for the three of us?"

"He did. He likes me." Hell, she seemed to be popular with most Vulcans—why the hell did it have to be Spock, the one Vulcan immune to her charms, who had caught her eye so long ago?

"Semek does appear to think highly of you. It will ease your integration into the team, having him on your side. He is my gate-keeper."

She lay back, wondering what it would feel like to not be in Ops after so many years.

"Second thoughts?"

She reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. "Nope. Just contemplating the future."

"It will be with me."

"I love the sound of that." She looked over at him. "Do you think Amanda meant this to happen?"

His face changed, a tenderness that was part for her and part for Amanda "I do. She would know that I would seek you out after the Pon Farr. I have always regarded you highly."

She turned to her side. "And knowing she'd approve of me—of this—that makes it easier to proceed, doesn't it?"

"It does. But even if I thought she would not approve, I would still want you. I care deeply for you."

She loved when he spoke in such sweet terms—more of Amanda's training, no doubt. "I love you, too, Sarek. Thank you for taking care of me."

"It was you who first took care of me. And it is hardly a selfless act." He pointed to a fat strawberry and raised an eyebrow.

"Tyrant," she said and fed him the berry, feeling as if a huge weight had been lifted from her. One she hadn't even been consciously aware was crushing her.

She owed Montenegro a bottle of very good scotch.

##

Chapel followed Sarek out of the flitter and saw Spock waiting for them inside the restaurant. "Are we late? Did you make us late?" He'd been particularly amorous before they'd left.

"Christine, you are nervous."

"No shit, I'm nervous. You try telling the guy you used to stalk that you're going to be his stepmom."

"I will tell him, so you may relax." He nodded to Spock as they walked in. "My son."

"Father. Cap—Christine."

She smiled, tried to make it the least sexual one she could then was afraid it was coming off as some kind of mad-clown grin. "Spock."

"This way," the maître d' said, and they followed him. "Shall I send the sommelier over?"

"Please," Sarek said, before she could answer, and he looked at her, fondness evident.

"Ah," Spock said. "I had heard that you were together."

She was surprised he would tackle this head on. And so calmly. She decided to let Sarek answer him.

"We are. She will be my wife."

"Congratulations." He did not look at Chapel as he said it.

Her nervousness fled, replaced by a low-grade anger. "Who told you?"

"What?"

"Who told you we were togther?" He was rarely at the embassy, and she couldn't see Semek telling him. Would the other Vulcans be gossips?

"Christine, he is aware. Is that not sufficient?" Sarek turned back to Spock. "You are well?"

"I am." He finally looked at her. "You both appear to prosper."

"Christine will be joining my staff." Sarek looked pleased; he'd gotten the billet approved and moved over to his staff in record time.

"I see."

Chapel was getting sick of his short responses. "It's good news all around, huh?"

"Indeed. I am quite..."

"Floored. Appalled. Giddy with anticipation?" She started to laugh. "Could we please just admit this is really strange?"

"Well, to be fair to you, Christine, my father and I rarely have comfortable interactions."

"Indeed," Sarek said. "Dinner out is an uncommon event for us."

"So you're both doing this for me?" She smiled broadly as the sommelier walked up, ordering a glass of some special cabernet rather than a bottle—she wanted to stay clear headed. As he left, she smiled and said, "Saved by the wine."

"My mother used to say that." For a moment, Spock expression became very gentle.

"I can imagine her saying that." Chapel leaned forward. "I respect her place in Sarek's life, Spock. I'm not trying to replace her."

For a moment, Spock's jaw tightened. Then he said, "Before she died, she told me that you and my father might...become involved. And that I should support you."

Sarek looked surprised. "She told you that?"

"Indeed. She was always concerned for our relationship. And your happiness, Father. And yours, too, I imagine, Christine. You were, after all, her friend."

"I was. I loved her."

Spock nodded, acceptance clear even if awkwardness was not far behind. "You are a woman of excellent character. I have always known that."

"Thank you." She glanced at Sarek. He looked...relieved. Had he thought Spock would fight this? Be mean to her? Run in fear? "What are you doing these days?"

Spock seemed to shut down a little. "I am working on a special project."

They waited and he gave them nothing more.

"Okay, then." She glanced at Sarek and his look told her to leave it alone. She leaned back and sighed in relief as her wine arrived.

She would let Sarek do the heavy conversational lifting for a while—she was going to drink.

She felt Sarek's hand on her knee under the tablecloth, a gentle squeeze and then he let go.

They were saved from idle chit chat by the waiter, who detailed the house specialties in excruciating detail. When he finally took their order and left, she started to laugh. "Wow."

"Indeed." Spock's mouth turned up slightly. "Jim used to always find such displays amusing."

"You miss him," she said as gently as she could.

He met her eyes. For once, there wasn't any of the old tension between them. He seemed to accept she'd said that from a place of love—but not romantic love. "I do. Very much."

"I'm sorry he's gone. Harriman..." She put a load of scorn on the name.

"The less said about him the better," Sarek said, earning him looks from both her and Spock. "What is so surprising about my statement? I have had to travel on his ship. He is most...uninspiring."

"Amen." Chapel shook her head. "How that man has a ship is beyond me."

"It was beyond Jim as well." Spock looked down. "And yet he went to the launch."

"And he saved the ship and those on board," Sarek said, far more gently than she thought was his norm when talking to Spock. "He died most bravely, my son."

"Yes." Spock looked down.

"Scant consolation," she murmured, and Spock met her eyes and nodded.

There was a long moment of uneasy silence, but then the salads arrived and they could busy themselves with eating, and she could try to get them to lighter ground by saying, "Len will be in town next week. He's getting together the old crew."

Spock nodded. "I will be there. Will you?"

"Wouldn't miss it."

"And you, father?"

"I was not part of that crew, Spock. My presence would add nothing."

She turned to him and smiled. "You'd be bored by all the 'Remember when?' stories."

"Quite likely." He looked over at Spock. "Saavik is returning to Earth."

Spock finally perked up. "She did not notify me."

"Maybe she wanted to surprise you." Chapel grinned at him. She hadn't met Saavik yet, but she was intrigued.

"Perhaps. Valeris was a...wedge between us."

"Well, Valeris is gone now. So...work that out." She smiled and realized it was a very mom thing to say—could this get any weirder?

"You are no doubt right, Christine. Excellent advice."

Yes, yes it could.

Sarek's hand was back on her knee, again the squeeze. Did he approve or did he want her to quit talking? They were going to have to discuss secret signals and their meanings when they got home.

Home. The embassy. Or her apartment. Maybe a shuttle. But definitely wherever he was. She slipped her hand under the table and put it over his, squeezed and smiled when he looked over at her. "This salad is wonderful."

"Indeed."

"It is quite good," Spock said, apparently wanting to be agreeable. Although he did seem to be enjoying it.

But then she had no idea if that was his norm—if he ate all his salad or left half of it. She was suddenly very glad she had no idea.

Sarek would eat all of his. She knew that well.

He moved his hand off her knee and began to talk of things diplomatic. Spock had opinions, and as they talked the tentativeness of their interaction wore off. She smiled, paying attention this time instead of drifting off to think about Ops things. Diplomacy was going to be her new life.

God help diplomacy.

##

Chapel watched Spock walk back to wherever he was staying, then turned to Sarek. "Well?"

"I was satisfied by how he took the news, how he interacted with us." He urged her into the flitter, then told it to take them to her apartment.

"It was awkward as hell at first."

"That was to be expected. Given your interest in him at one time. And his relationship with me, which colored the interaction far more than anything he thought about you, Christine. I assure you: it would not have been any easier were you not involved."

"That's not really a nice thought. I'm sorry you don't have a better relationship."

"Kaiidth."

"Logical." She leaned against him. "I'm glad I'm with you, not him."

"As am I." His lips turned up more than usual. "I will, however, verify that your sentiment is true with a meld."

"Go nuts," she said with a grin.

The flitter pulled in at her apartment, and she followed him out. He wasted no time getting them upstairs and her undressed and pressed against the wall as he took her with a bit more urgency than usual, working very hard to ensure she was happy before he let go.

"Feeling possessive?" she said as he finished and let her down. "Do you want to pee in the corners now to mark the place as yours?"

He let out his huff of amusement. "That will not be necessary."

"He frustrates you. Over and above anything to do with me."

"Yes. He frustrates me. Our relationship frustrates me. I try...and I believe he does, too. But we do not connect in any way that is not superficial. I thought, after his mother died, that we were building something stronger. But he went away, and then there was you, and I did not seek to sustain it."

"But he went away, so how could you? What is this pet project?"

"I do not know. He was on leave, not on a mission."

"That's weird." She shook her head. "And I don't care. He's a big boy and he can make his own decisions."

Again the huff. "Amanda used to say that. It usually meant she was worried."

"Well, I'm not going to worry. Maybe Saavik will. Are they...involved?" She led him into the bedroom and they undressed the rest of the way and climbed into bed, lounging against the nest of pillows she'd found he liked as much as she did. "Wasn't she his ward?"

"Not precisely. Their relationship is complicated."

"Either they're involved or they're not. How complicated can it be?" She snuggled up against him, and he put his arm around her and drew her closer.

"Kaiidth," he murmured.

"Fine. I'll leave it alone. But I've never met her and now I'm curious."

"You will like her. She is quite personable."

"She may not approve of us."

He kissed her hair. "If Amanda told Spock to support us, I have no doubt she told Saavik the same thing. She would not leave such a thing to chance."

"True." She relaxed. "I owe her so much. And you—she took care of you so well, even not here."

"She did." He rubbed her arm. "She would want me to try harder with Spock."

"You two are like magnets. Try as you might, you're going to push each other away."

"You see that. She never did."

"He's not my son. Makes all the difference." She turned so she could kiss him. "Can we stop talking about Spock now?"

"Most assuredly." He reached for the meld points.

"Really? You weren't kidding about that?"

"You loved him once. I need to know."

"Rifle away, only don't blame me for what you get—and stay away from the work stuff, if you don't mind."

"Soon your work will be the same as mine. There will be no need to worry."

"You know I worry?"

"I do. I would not intrude on anything sensitive from Emergency Operations."

She smiled and kissed him, letting him conduct his big investigatory meld, which didn't last long because she really wanted him to kiss her and he could no doubt tell that. He finally did kiss her, letting the meld go, and she could feel his satisfaction—the sheer possessiveness he felt for her. "Told you. You and only you."

"I am pleased."

She pushed him down, began to kiss down his body. "Let's see if we can get you more than pleased."

He moaned as she worked, cried out more than was his norm, but she was pulling out all the stops. When he pulled her up and kissed her, she said, "Did I get you to happy yet?" She grinned at the slightly dazed expression he was wearing. "How about blissful?"

"Yes," he said, clearly not trying to put up any resistance to admitting to emotions and strong ones, and his almost-smile backed him up.

"I love you," she said, laughing as he eased down her body. "So, so, so much."

Then she couldn't think, much less talk. He was pulling out all the stops, too. He slid up and watched her come down, stroking her cheek, his eyes as tender as she'd ever seen them. "I would like us to marry soon."

"Okay." She felt boneless, closed her eyes and grinned.

"Christine, this is important."

She nodded. "Whenever you want. I'm game." She opened her eyes. "Do we have to do a big wedding? We can just slip away, can't we? Or do it in the embassy?"

"You do not want a traditional ceremony?"

"God, no. I only want you."

"You are a woman of few needs."

"No, I am a woman of many needs. You just happen to fill them." She pulled him down for another kiss.

When they finally pulled away, he murmured very softly, "I stand corrected."

FIN