Conduct Unbecoming

By Djinn

1. Presumption of Guilt

Chapel woke up in the holding cell with the feeling she was being watched—or at least observed beyond the normal surveillance in the detention facility. She sat up slowly and saw Spock standing on the other side of the force field, his posture Vulcan perfect, his expression unreadable.

There had been a time, just before he died, that she could read him well. A time when, had she woken up alone and afraid, he would have been someone she could ask for help.

Now she crossed her arms over her chest and slid back until she hit the wall. "What do you want?"

He'd spent the day yesterday "observing" her questioning. His eyes had held something dark and very alive—rage, she thought. Only she didn't know why.

"Do you know why you're here?" If his voice held any emotion, it was distaste.

"Because I'm one of Cartwright's protégés?" Cartwright, who she'd seen in the corridor yesterday on the way to questioning. Who'd given her a smile she couldn't read and mouthed, "Sorry," as they passed. Cartwright who'd betrayed Starfleet and the Federation, who'd disgraced the uniform.

Who'd taken Spock's lover down with him.

She closed her eyes and tried to gather whatever power used to let her cow planetary administrators into granting her access during emergencies. But she couldn't find that strength this time, not when she was sitting in this uncomfortable bed, waking up for the fourth day in a row in custody, not charged with a damned thing, and now with Spock staring daggers at her through a force field he could drop with a flick of his wrist.

She'd heard from Ny what he'd done to Valeris. If he could hurt a Vulcan with a meld, what could he do to her?

She wanted to appeal to their long association, the shared years on the ship, anything to make him add just a bit of warmth to his expression, but something in the way he was standing told her to tread carefully, so she stayed still and tried to wipe any trace of a confrontational expression from her face.

Finally he said, "Admiral Cartwright will not agree to a meld."

She nodded, unsure what he wanted her to say.

"His agreement may not be necessary, given his guilt."

Guilt ascertained by another meld. The one on Valeris. Chapel knew all this. "Okay."

"You can make this easier."

"I can? How?"

"For yourself, I mean. Agree to a meld now. Do not wait for the Federation to give me permission."

"You?"

"Yes. I. I am in charge of the investigation. Did you not realize that?"

"It explains why you were in the room yesterday." She eased off the bed and walked to him. "Why am I here? Cartwright mentored hundreds of us. Are we all here?"

"No." His eyes seemed to burn into her, as if he was trying to find a secret—or just have her admit to it without him finding it.

"Why am I here?"

"You are an excellent actress." He turned and headed for the door.

"Spock, I deserve to know."

He whirled. "That is Captain Spock, Commander."

She took a step back and tried to wipe off any trace of how much he was pissing her off. She went for the helpless woman shtick she occasionally used during an ops mission, letting her voice rise and her eyes soften. Cartwright used to tell her she was scarily good at changing to fit the occasion. "Captain Spock, what is it you think I've done? Please, just tell me."

He didn't seem the least bit mollified by her tone, and he narrowed his eyes as he took a step closer. "You transferred Cadet Valeris to Admiral Cartwright during her interim assignment in her last year at the Academy. She was assigned to Emergency Operations until you sent her to serve in the CINC's office with the admiral."

"He asked me to." This was why she was here? His fucking traitor of a girlfriend's career progression?

"Via official channels? I find that unlikely. There is no record."

"No, not official. He and I served together forever. We did things informally."

"Informally or covertly? It is a matter of degree, is it not, Commander?"

She wanted to close her eyes, wanted to yell at him for even thinking she might be part of the conspiracy. He knew her. Or he used to, before he came back to life, before... No. It was irrelevant. "You think I handed her over to him...for this? To be involved—you think I'm involved?"

"I do. But if you are not, a simple meld will settle this and I will release you."

"With an apology?" She could see by the way his jaw tightened that there was no way he was saying he was sorry. "A meld? With you? You're angry. You want it to be me." She felt a sense of panic overcome her and wanted to rush the field and beat her fists on it, but she knew how senseless—and painful—that would be. "You melded with Valeris. I know you did. Did you find me in her mind?"

"No. But it is not uncommon for the leaders of such a plot to maintain operational security by keeping cells ignorant of the identities of their co-conspirators."

"You can't be serious? You think I'm part of this?" She started to pace, then realized who could help her. "Where's Jim. He'll listen to me."

Spock looked down, and she had the sense he was trying desperately to get control of himself. "Captain Kirk was lost during the launch of the Enterprise-B."

She took a step back, then another, her backward progress stopped when she ran into the bed and sat down heavily. "What? How?" Her voice squeaked and she could feel tears starting, tears she didn't try to fight. Jim was dead and Spock hadn't even fucking told her?

"I am not going to discuss him with you." He turned and this time she didn't try to stop him.

She took a breath, felt it catch, and tried to calm herself. Spock thought she was guilty, Jim was gone, and she was stuck in here with Cartwright, who might just be throwing her under the bus—for something she hadn't done. Was that what his "Sorry" had meant?

She scooted back on the bed, leaned heavily against the wall, and tried to find some semblance of calm.

One meld would solve this. She'd had nothing to do with the conspiracy. But she was afraid of Spock. Afraid to let him do it. He was so angry—how much had he loved Valeris?

Forget Valeris. How much did he hate her?

And for what? She'd done nothing, she'd walked away from him after his rebirth the way he clearly wanted her to. She'd never made a fuss.

This wasn't getting her anywhere. Options. Jim would be asking her for options. So would Cartwright, if they were still in ops together.

Options were what she excelled at. Why was she letting Spock make her panic? There was more than one goddamned Vulcan on this planet. And she knew one that actually liked her enough to come quickly. She got up and hit the comm button, praying to whatever deity protected the unjustly accused that Spock wouldn't be the one to answer it.

He wasn't. Her normal guard walked in. A lieutenant who didn't look at her like she was three-week old bread. "Ma'am?" she asked.

"I need to talk to Ambassador Sarek. Sooner rather than later."

The woman didn't ask why; she just nodded and hurried out. Chapel had the sense that she'd be discreet.

Maybe not everyone was against her. Even if Spock was running the show, others could make real differences—she knew that from all her missions. It wasn't always those in charge who were the best allies.

Sarek came sooner than she expected. She looked up and almost cried in relief.

He seemed annoyed to find her in a cell. "What is this?"

She said, "Please, help me" at the same time she saw Spock walk through the door and say, "Father?"

Sarek turned. "What is she doing in here?"

"She is under suspicion. There are...irregularities in how she handled Valeris's transfer."

She stood up, sick of his goddamn suppositions. "There was nothing irreg—"

Sarek motioned for her to stop talking. "Christine, why did you want me here?"

"Spock will let me go if a meld proves me innocent. I believe, with the betrayal of Lieutenant Valeris and the loss of Captain Kirk, that he is emotionally compromised, and I don't feel safe melding with him. I don't trust his control." She saw the comment hit as hard as she meant it to—for both men. "I prefer to meld with you, Sarek. If you will?" She knew panic was starting to show and didn't care.

"Father, she is under suspicion and I—"

This time it was Spock that Sarek hushed with a gesture. "Leave us, my son. I will ascertain the truth. I take it you believe Christine is involved in some way with the conspiracy?"

"I do. She transferred Valeris to Admiral Cartwright."

"I do not need you to tell me what you expect me to find. I will meld with her and find it myself."

Chapel wanted to laugh. He was taking control back; Spock couldn't fight him. She sat and dug her fingers into the blanket, taking a deep, wavering breath while trying to fight off what felt like hysteria.

She was too goddamn old for this. She could have retired last year. If she got free of this place, she was turning in her uniform and getting the hell away from Spock.

Because even when Sarek cleared her, she didn't think it would matter much to his son.

##

Spock watched Valeris as she walked slowly around the detention cell. She seemed unconcerned that he was watching her. Unlike with Christine's quite apparent panic, he could discern nothing from her.

"Why didn't you want to tell me I was being extradited, Spock? Do you lack the courage?" She took a deep breath, held it, then let it out slowly. The most basic of Vulcan meditations.

"It was a given, under the circumstances."

"Do you think one gets used to the stink?" The way she was speaking of Rura Penthe, as if they were still together, as if they could share a private...joke about the things they could smell and their colleagues could not. She had always understood it was a way to cement their relationship. Establish common ground, then ensure that the common ground allowed no one else in.

She stopped and turned to look at him, her head cocked, her expression pure Vulcan. "Will you miss me, Spock?"

He nodded. He would give her that. She had done what she'd done thinking he would approve. Somehow he had let her think he would condone the methods she took, that he would accept the wrongs she had committed as necessary.

But it had been Cartwright who had molded her into this...traitor. Cartwright and, he wanted to believe, Christine. But she was in with his father even as he watched Valeris.

He knew his father would be thorough. It was not in his nature to be anything but. Even if he had a fondness for Christine that Spock had never shared.

Valeris began to pace, and Spock closed his eyes. It was not entirely true that he and Christine had not shared something. Before he died saving the ship from the Genesis device, he and Christine had been forging some kind of...relationship. They had not become lovers, but they had been spending time together—a great deal of time.

Time he had enjoyed. But also time he had forgotten upon his rebirth. The memories had been lost in the fires of the refusion. Lost for some time.

And in the meantime, Valeris had been at his side. A girl about to enter the Academy. A girl who looked up to him despite being a full Vulcan and he only half. A girl just a step away from womanhood.

He had not touched her until she graduated the Academy. But she had moved him, touching his emotions—and his pride—from the moment he met her.

And Christine...by the time he remembered what they had been building, he and Valeris had built something he wanted more. It was easier to pretend he never recalled his burgeoning rapport with Christine than to explain why he no longer desired it.

Spock thought he heard a laugh and looked in on Valeris. She was staring at him and she smiled—the expression jarring. Then the laugh came from her again, deep and amused and...cruel.

"Do you really think you can send us there? To that Klingon hellhole?"

He saw too late the shining pellet she was holding, that she slipped into her mouth.

"I loved you, Spock. I will couch it in human terms since, at your core, you are governed by emotions, not logic. I know you loved me. And now you will lose me. Your precious Kirk is dead. You have nothing left." Her voice was crueler than he could ever have imagined it being. He did not think he was the one being propelled by emotion.

He hit the force field control, but she fell and began convulsing before he could get to her. She was dead a few moments later.

The door opened and a guard came in. "Sir, Admiral Cart—"

"Is dead. Of course. Commander Chapel?"

"I did not check on her."

"Please go do that." Did he have to think for all of them?

The guard hurried out, and Spock sat down near Valeris, not touching her, just watching as her skin seemed to lose all semblance of life.

The door opened again. "She was with your father, sir. He's just outside. I asked him to wait."

Spock rose, trying to put some measure of Vulcan dignity back into his posture, trying not to show how this loss—after Jim's—was affecting him. "I will talk to my father in my office. Please escort him there. And send a med team for the bodies of Lieutenant Valeris and Admiral Cartwright. A postmortem is required." He wanted to know who might have made the poison they took. Who helped them—someone brought the pellets in. Perhaps the man he was talking to.

The guard left, and Spock took a deep breath. He took one last look at Valeris, then headed for his office.

Sarek was looking out the window, no doubt not wanting to give Spock the advantage of standing over him if he was seated. "Ah, Spock, has something happened? The guards seem quite—"

"Admiral Cartwright and Valeris have committed suicide."

Sarek evidenced very little surprise, but more than a bit of disapproval, probably at the way Spock was running this operation. "Before you could meld with him, I take it?"

"Yes." He saw a padd on his desk, his authorization had arrived, giving him permission to force the meld. Had someone seen this? Was that why Cartwright had killed himself now?

He imagined Valeris did it now because she enjoyed doing it in front of him. She always relished the control she had over him, the impact. Seeing her die, after Jim—he'd told her about Jim, why had he told her?

He mentally shook himself. He must not show weakness in front of his father. Not now. "Your meld with Commander Chapel?"

"Showed that she was innocent. I was quite thorough, as I imagine you expected. Christine was most cooperative. She put aside embarrassment and the requirements any being would have for the privacy of their own thoughts to let me have unprecedented access."

"Christine. You say her name so easily."

"It is an easy name to say, Spock, as she is a family friend."

"Is she? Or is she your friend? You came with such alacrity, Father. I wonder at the depths of your friendship with Commander Chapel. She has shown a proclivity for Vulcan males, after all. Does my mother know you are here?"

Sarek turned, no evidence of anger when he said, "She does. I realize you were unable to ascertain Valeris's deception despite being in a relationship with her, but do not suppose that your mother would not know if I was unfaithful to her. She interrupted a meeting I was in to let me know Christine needed my help. As I said, Christine is our friend."

Spock turned away, hating that his father could make him feel like a child again so effortlessly.

"Moreover, Spock, at one time Christine was your friend. She accompanied you to more than one embassy function."

"I will not discuss her with you." He tried to sound like an adult and not some rejected boy. "If you saw nothing, she is free to go."

"Spock, what I am trying to say is she is planning to retire and...flee. You once felt something for her. You could urge her to stay."

"Urge her yourself."

"I did. On both my and your mother's behalf. But she is afraid of you. Of what you will do to her."

Spock turned. "I will do nothing to her."

"You have frightened her, Spock. Your meld with Valeris was...violent."

"You would condemn me for that? The Federation considers me a hero. As do the Klingons."

"But they perhaps do not realize that restraint is not only commendable but crucial."

Spock closed his eyes, hating the feeling of never being able to win with this man. For so many years, he was never good enough, never made the right decisions.

Meanwhile, his father wanted him to urge a woman he detested to remain on Earth? Why? Let her flee. Let her go wherever she wanted, and prosper or not. He did not care. He simply did not want to see her.

Ever again.

2. Bad Blood

Chapel was packing the last of her things for storage when the chime sounded. "Come," she said, "I'm back here, Ny."

"It is I," Sarek said gently, and she turned to look at him. He was surveying the emptiness of her apartment with something like dismay. "You are leaving as you said?"

She nodded.

"What will you do?"

"Not sure yet. Just don't want to be on the same planet as Spock."

"He is often away."

"You know what I mean." A pulse of exhaustion rushed through her, and she sat on the hearth of the fireplace she'd chosen the apartment for. That and the view.

"Christine, there is room on my staff. I would welcome your assistance. Amanda would welcome your company."

"What part of staying away from Spock doesn't compute for you, Sarek?" She closed her eyes, hating how bitter she sounded. He was trying to help; he didn't deserve this. "But thank you."

He sat next to her. "You must not let him dictate your future."

"He hates me."

"If he hates anyone, Christine, it is himself. For not seeing what was right in front of him."

"Well, to be fair, none of us saw that."

"None of us were melding with her." Sarek raised an eyebrow as if to punctuate Spock's shortcomings, and she laughed, the sound coming out mean, but he didn't seem to mind. "What will you do, Christine? You cannot just wander, avoiding Spock for the rest of your life."

"Sure I can." She leaned against him to take the sting out of her tone, smiled gently, and closed her eyes, enjoying the solidity of him. Spock used to feel this way, the short time they were together—and she didn't care that they'd never had sex or that he couldn't remember anything about those times. They had been together. She'd felt it and he'd spoken of things...down the road the way a person did when they envisioned a joined future.

Reluctantly, she eased away from Sarek. "When I was in ops, we often called in a contract team of medical personnel. I've got a call in to the two we used most. People I met." People who'd told her: "If you ever quit Starfleet..."

"That is a logical solution."

"Yep, I can be logical. It'll be a new job but familiar, all at once." And far, far away from Spock, please God.

"Perhaps our paths will cross."

She took his hand for the briefest of moments. "I hope so. You and Amanda—you're so special to me. I...I love you." She said that so rarely anymore. Who had been the last person she'd told that to? She couldn't even remember.

"We care for you deeply, as well."

It consoled her to imagine Sarek might care for her more deeply than he did for Spock. Amanda, on the other hand, would always love her boy the best no matter how fond she was of Chapel, which she knew was how it should be.

Sarek stood. "I will let you get back to your packing."

"Thank you for saving me."

His expression changed, becoming almost sorrowful. "I regret that my son did not pursue a relationship with you, Christine. I would have welcomed you as a daughter."

"What? Over a proper Vulcan wife for him?"

"I married a human, Christine." Again the punctuation of the eyebrow, this time poking fun at her.

"Did you like Valeris?"

He did not give her a quick answer. Instead, he took a deep breath and seemed to hold it, then slowly exhaled. "I admired her accomplishments. Her intellect, naturally. But there was something...calculated about the way she pursued Spock."

"I thought he pursued her?"

"No. From the moment Kirk brought him back for the refusion, she inserted herself into his life. I wonder now if she and Cartwright had already started to work together."

Chapel did him the credit of considering it, but she couldn't see how Cartwright could get to a Valeris that young. "I think she just loved him, Sarek. The short time I worked with her, she seemed to worship him."

"It must have been difficult. Given what I saw of your feelings for him in the meld." He looked uncomfortable—she knew it wasn't because she had feelings, but that he'd had to rifle through them.

She nodded. "I wasn't sorry to see her leave ops, I can tell you that. She was a constant reminder of what should have been mine." She looked down and took a shaky breath. "He doesn't even remember me, Sarek. How does he not even remember spending time with me?"

"It is not logical, given that his other memories seem to have been recovered. He certainly shows no sign of forgetting the many grievances he has against me." He cocked his head. "It is possible he does remember. And that in those memories lies guilt. There is a phenomena not unique to humans called cognitive dissonance."

"I'm familiar. He knew he treated me badly, and he would never treat a good person badly."

"Indeed. So he makes you—"

"The villain. It explains things, but it doesn't help me at all. At the end of the day, guilt-ridden or no, he doesn't like me. And I don't trust him. Especially not without Jim's influence to temper him. I know you weren't always a Kirk fan, but he made Spock softer, more reasonable."

"I realize that. Amanda has commented on the change in Spock of late."

"Which is just another reason to get the hell out of Dodge." She grinned at him, trying to make it as carefree as possible but pretty sure she failed. "I'll miss you. Give Amanda my love."

He nodded, as if she was not asking him an extremely emotional thing. "Live long and prosper, Christine."

"You as well."

##

Spock walked through the very full mess at Command, trying to find an empty table. He did not normally eat an afternoon meal, but he had a late meeting and did not want hunger to interfere with his ability to fully focus.

Valeris was gone. The conspiracy was dead—or at least the search for it. He had to accept that. He had spent a week analyzing every second of the surveillance tapes, seeing who went in and out of the holding cells, who might have given Valeris and Cartwright the pellets, but had come up empty. The guards maintained the distance mandated by procedure to give no prisoner the chance to disable them when moving from cell to interrogation room, and at other times the force fields were up and precluded contact. There was no instance of a surreptitious drop of anything.

Whoever had done it was skilled. And, for all he knew, it had happened during the trial. They'd been marched past a significant number of people, all vetted of course, but that didn't mean they weren't part of this.

Spock refused to waste any more energy on worrying about how many people who were part of this might be left. Starfleet Security would continue the hunt. It was what they specialized in. He would go back to diplomatic where he belonged.

"Mister Spock." A voice he felt happy to hear—true happiness, for the first time in days. He, of course, gave no sign of the emotion, as he turned.

Nyota was motioning to the chair across from her and he joined her with something he realized was eagerness. "Crowded today. Crazy." She smiled and went back to her salad. "Got a meeting in fifteen minutes so I'm going to be lousy company. But you looked a little lost—thought I could help you find a table." She beamed at him. The beautiful, sweet smile he had always found attractive—and somewhat sensual.

"I regret that we will not have a chance to talk."

"Me, too." She shook her head. "Doesn't seem right without the captain here, Spock."

"I agree." Jim's absence was a constant weight. But, sitting here with Nyota, he felt that weight lifted slightly. "If you wish to talk about it, I would be amenable."

"No. I'm good. Jan and I spent a couple of days while Excelsior was in for upgrades drinking and bemoaning the loss of that fine man." She sighed. "Had the hangover to prove it, but I think I got out all I needed to say. She did, too." She smiled breezily, as if not realizing Spock had been trying to gain personal time with her. "But if you want to talk about him, I'm game." Her words were punctuated with a stab of her food.

"Perhaps tomorrow night. There is a restaurant I've been told is quite good. It is called Ambrosia."

She frowned. "Ambrosia is a date place."

He let a rising eyebrow be his answer.

"Are you asking me on a date?" She put her fork down and pushed the tray to the side. "Please, for the love of God, tell me you are not asking me out on a date."

He almost frowned. "I am interested in spending time with you. Why does that upset you?"

"You really know nothing about the girl code, do you? I'm not poaching someone one of my best friends liked. Moreover, you're on the rebound, which is strike two against you. And strike three—which in case you weren't paying attention during all our shore-leave baseball games, means you're out—you locked up Christine and scared the crap out of her. She left the planet, Spock. To get away from you. What the hell is wrong with you?" She stood up, kicking her chair away with quite a bit of vigor. "So yeah, let's go paint the town red." With a dramatic eye-roll, she turned and left him.

And left her tray for him to throw away.

She had always been a master of dramatic exits.

He looked around to see if anyone was paying attention to him, but no one seemed interested—or was pretending to not be interested with too much vigor. He had learned to recognize that over the years.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, seeking control. Annoyance, even anger, still sat so near the surface. It had been weeks since Valeris died, since he'd lost Jim. How long would this volatility last? It was worse than what he'd experienced with V'ger because that he could blame on the meld, on the influence of a startling and unique intellect. This...he had only himself to blame.

"My son." His father's voice, behind him. "Do you desire company or is your dining companion coming back?"

Spock realized Sarek was looking at Nyota's tray. "They are coming back, Father," he wanted to say. He wanted more than anything to lie to Sarek, to see him walk off and leave him in peace. But Sarek had no office to retreat to. He would choose another table—probably within sight of this one—and know that Spock had not spoken true. "Please. Sit." He tried to make his tone gracious as he moved Nyota's tray to the side.

Sarek sat and busied himself with fixing his food the way he wanted it, then he said, "Where is your next mission?"

"Delex IV. Both sides are finally ready to talk now that they have had to join forces fighting the virus that has killed so many on the planet."

Sarek seemed to freeze for a moment, then he nodded and went back to eating.

"Father?"

"It is nothing."

"It is something. You reacted. I saw it quite clearly."

Sarek put down his fork, took a deep breath, and then said, "Christine is there. Working for a private medical contractor."

Spock could feel his face freezing in what he hoped was merely disapproval and not anger. "I see. And you know this how?"

"I know this because she told your mother and your mother told me. Are you going to persist with this assumption that I am in some kind of illicit relationship with her? It is most tiresome." He pushed his plate aside, letting it come to rest next to Nyota's. "You know, Spock, it was you who treated Christine badly, not the reverse. She has been astoundingly reticent to speak ill of you—she has even defended you to me upon occasion. I have no idea why."

Spock let an eyebrow rise, afraid that if he spoke it would only be to lose control, which was what his father wanted. He'd lived through this too many times over the years not to know what would follow any kind of outburst. Finally, after chewing his food far longer than necessary, he said softly, "She has left the planet. As I'm sure my human associates would say: good riddance."

Sarek leaned in, and there was anger in his face, anger that it shocked Spock to see. "You will treat her with the respect she is due. She had nothing to do with the conspiracy. Admiral Cartwright did request Valeris from her; she did not volunteer her to leave. You are being quite illogical to carry so much negative emotion toward her."

"Well, Father, you did not have to live with her unrelenting interest."

"You would be fortunate to have her—and at one point you did not find her interest so distasteful. I saw much in her memories." Sarek looked at his tray. "I am no longer hungry. Enjoy your meal, my son." And with that he was up and gone.

And one more tray waited for Spock to take care of. It was probably an accurate metaphor for his life right now.

"Well, Spock. As I live and breathe. I saw your dad just leave—he coming back or do you want some company?" McCoy actually sounded happy to see him.

"I would love some company, Doctor." He made sure to let his eyebrow rise on the word "love."

"Now you're just being mean." But McCoy laughed and tucked into his meal. "So, tell me what's new with you."

Spock waited for the heavy silence that his father would employ, one that would mean no matter what he said, it would not be a good answer. But McCoy just grinned and asked him to pass the salt.

So Spock told him what was new—or as much of it as he could without mentioning Christine.

Perhaps she would have cycled off world by the time he got to Delex IV. Perhaps he could make that happen before he got there. With an uptick of his lips that he could not control, he resolved to check into that once he and Leonard finished lunch.

3. Repercussions of Guilt

Spock walked through the tent city that had been erected when the hospitals became too full. The Delexians were generally a hardy people, but the virus felling them by the thousands was like nothing they had faced before. The sickness had brought the planet together rather than push it further apart, which was why he and his delegation were here.

But the discussions had for now been suspended, his role reduced to support until the medical crisis, which had worsened just before his arrival, was resolved. A medical crisis so widespread he had abandoned any idea of getting Christine somehow removed from this mission—the planet needed all the medical personnel it could get.

He regretted that his time was so free now. He had hoped to bury himself in work, to use it to forget everything that had happened—that had left him alone at a time that he'd thought would be his brightest years with a good friend retired close enough to visit and a mate of his own. A mate who might be away on a ship but still bonded to him. Never and always touching and touched.

He breathed out slowly, the sound just short of a sigh. Nothing was as he'd thought it would be.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in." A voice he had been waiting to hear—not in any kind of positive anticipation but with some measure of dread. Not that he would ever tell Christine that.

He turned and saw her and felt the rage rising against his will, not wanting to be contained any longer, not when she stood before him.

"My father said you would be here."

"And you came anyway. You have no shame." Her expression was a mocking one she had not used on him when she was in the holding cell.

He should have forced the meld. He did not like having to take his father's word for her innocence.

He would have rather ripped through her mind himself.

Her expression slipped, and he saw a trace of fear replace the mocking. Could she read how angry he was? A slip into such transparent emotions was one he should not indulge.

He put his hands behind his back, clasping them to stop the trembling that had started despite his attempt at control. A trembling he was not sure was entirely of rage but of helplessness—or of guilt. This woman had done him no wrong. Not knowingly if at all and yet he felt such animosity toward her.

He wanted her to be to blame. He did not want Valeris to have found the fatal path she took alone.

And Christine was jealous. He knew she was—or had been; perhaps now there was only fear and dislike.

He studied her in silence and she turned as if to leave. Without thinking, he said, "You were not dismissed, Commander."

He realized his mistake immediately.

"I'm retired, or didn't you get the memo?" She moved closer. "I say this with all due respect, Spock. Go fuck yourself."

"I will put you on report."

"To whom? I'm in charge of the medical team. And I answer to the chancellor. So go tell her how disrespectful the person saving her people was to you. I'm sure she'll give an enormous shit."

He had met the chancellor, a woman much less unyielding than her counterpart on the other side of the negotiations. "Saving? People are dying."

"Not as many as were. We're making a difference. Your inability to see that—or read data since I know you get the sitreps—is your problem, not mine." She turned again.

He still felt compelled to try to intimidate her. "Tread carefully, Doctor."

"And again I say fuck you, Spock." This time she did leave, her walk one of a predator, not of a chastened subordinate, but he had the distinct impression she was putting on an act, that she did not feel as confident as she was letting on.

##

Chapel could feel her face turning red and her hands starting to shake, and tried to fight off the burning combination of fear and anger she felt at seeing Spock. She bypassed the tent city once she was out of his sight and headed for Dilar's residence.

The chancellor was in, and she waved away her security as Chapel stormed down the hallway. "Christine, what is it?"

"Nothing."

Dilar rolled her eyes the way she always did when she knew Chapel was lying. "You're angry but not at me." Dilar eased her into her private chambers behind the receiving quarters. "What is it?"

"I knew I'd run into him eventually. Sarek warned me."

"Ah. So this is about Spock. I am surprised you managed to avoid him as long as you have." She stroked her hair the way Chapel loved.

"He makes me so angry."

"Anger is not what I'm sensing." Dilar tipped her chin up, calm eyes appraising, leaving no room for secrets. "Why are you so afraid of him? You've told me nothing about what happened to you, Christine. I can sense it—the past, something bad. But I'm not a mind-reader." She sighed. "Tell me. Trust me."

Chapel took a ragged breath. She'd told no one but Ny and Jan what she'd been put through in the facility. What Spock would have done to her if she'd let him. But Dilar had let her in; she deserved to know the truth.

"He believes I corrupted his fuc—his girlfriend." Dilar didn't like it when she swore—the Delexians found it crass—so she tried to moderate her language, but after so many years in ops, it was hard. "I was in a detention facility because of him."

"What do you want me to do, Christine?" Dilar pulled her close, nuzzling. "How can I make it better?"

Even though she was being physical, Chapel knew she didn't mean to make it better with sex. She was just using the closeness Chapel craved to make her settle.

"Tell the Federation to send another diplomat."

"Short of that." Dilar laughed as she kissed down her neck.

Chapel let her do it, even if she knew she was being manipulated. Dilar hadn't become Chancellor without learning how to play people. But it was a goodhearted manipulation that reminded Chapel of Jim.

"I know what he was to you—this is more than just the detention center, isn't it?" Dilar whispered.

Chapel nodded but said, "You have a meeting. This will take a while."

"Then give me the short version."

So she did, elaborating on her time in the detention center—how frightened she'd been by someone who at one point she would have bet her life would never hurt her—and how he was treating her now.

Dilar's expression grew harder and harder. Anger, but not at her. "Christine—what can I do?"

"Fire his ass—I know you can't. But you would if you could, right? Just tell me that."

"I would if I could."

They both knew it was a lie. Spock was instrumental in helping Dilar achieve a dream—and a promise to her people. With peace would come Federation membership and all the privileges and protection that came with it.

Chapel had no illusions that Dilar's ambition and loyalty to her own kind wouldn't trump any hold their no-strings affair might have. Still, it was nice to go to sleep at night feeling safe, being held, and knowing there were guards outside the door to keep the bad guys at bay.

She'd received threats once she was released. Anonymous. Horrible. Calling her a traitor.

All because she'd been associated with a good man who'd lost his goddamned mind.

"Christine?"

She realized Dilar had asked her something. "What?"

"Do you want to come with me to Lorla Province tomorrow? The medics there tell me they are understaffed and under-resourced, but everyone always says that. I trust you to tell me if they're really in need of more or just trying to take advantage of the emergency."

"Would they do that?"

"The administrator of that province has integrity...challenges, shall we say?"

"Understood. And yes, I'm happy to."

"My hero." Dilar pulled her closer and kissed her soundly.

Chapel kissed her back with as much passion as she could give. She loved that Dilar could turn keeping her away from Spock into some kind of altruistic act on Chapel's part.

"I still have time before my next meeting. If you want to..." Dilar eyed the door that connected to the bedroom.

Chapel laughed and let her lead her in, the heavy thud of the door closing behind them a comforting sound.

##

Spock was sitting near a fountain, finalizing his latest report to the Federation leadership when he heard a soft cough.

He turned to see the chancellor, her guards standing behind her out of earshot but close enough to protect her if needed. Since not everyone was in favor of peace, Dilar had significantly increased the security around her.

Then again he would not put it past her to want to send a message to the other side and her own people. At how high the stakes were—at what she was risking to give them peace. At heart, she was a politician, and he had learned not to trust them, no matter what the species. Few people went into the field with no ego, especially not those who played the game as well as this woman.

Or maybe he just wanted to believe the worst about Dilar now that he knew she was involved with Christine.

He did not want to analyze where his anger stemmed from, was content to simply indulge it in small ways that would not interfere with the mission.

"Chancellor," he said with a slight nod.

"Ambassador. Walk with me." She did not wait for him to acquiesce, merely set off down the path without him and he had to hurry slightly to catch off.

She was normally the soul of courtesy, a master of allowing an opponent to lose but still save face. She was deliberately making him hurry, making him look less dignified than he preferred. But why?

"Have I offended you, Chancellor?" Sometimes it was best to be direct.

"No, you've offended a friend of mine." Her smile was the same brilliant one he'd grown used to during the preliminary talks, but there was a glint of steel in her eye.

"I regret that. I was not aware I had offended any Delexian."

She smiled as if she knew he was being deliberately obtuse. "Not one of my people."

"Ah, you are referring to Doctor Chapel. I believe the two of you are quite close."

"As I said."

"Perhaps you do not know her as well as you think. Perhaps she is not worthy of your...protection."

She smiled serenely. "Many years ago, we had a very bad earthquake. It leveled the largest city in my province. I was the administrator. There was a Starfleet officer newly assigned to emergency operations."

He closed his eyes, anticipating the conversational path she would take; he would not win this one.

"Ah, I see you take my meaning. Suffice it to say that I am extraordinarily fond of this woman." She lifted her head, a move of defiance, of just the slightest bit of anger, given what he had learned of her people. Then she sniffed in a way meant to bring attention to the act. "You are angry. You think it is with her. I think it is with yourself."

"This is none of your affair, Chancellor."

She laughed. "Affair. That's the very word for it, I think. The way humans think of these things."

"Whatever she has said—"

"Is between her and me. Because as I understand it, you abandoned any relationship you might have had with her." As he began to speak, she deftly cut him off. "I will not have her...bullied by you, Ambassador. Am I clear?"

"Perfectly." His voice held no trace of emotion; a fact that made him far too happy. Dilar was risking much in order to shield Christine from him. He could not afford to make this worse—Delex IV would give Starfleet a base in a sector previously not open to them, one very close to the Neutral Zone.

Dilar sighed next to him, as if taking him to task had been some kind of chore. "I will leave you now, Ambassador. I regret that our talks have gone off track. Christine tells me that we are out of the crisis phase of the disease. We will be able to start negotiations again very soon."

"I look forward to that."

"As do I. Good day, Ambassador."

She moved off, her back straight, the picture of elegance. She was younger than Christine by at least a decade. He tried to stop his mind from imagining them together.

Tried and failed. He took a deep breath and held it, letting it out slowly, angry that he had to resort to such a basic tool just to gain control.

Christine had said it right in the detention facility when she'd told his father he was emotionally compromised. Not that he would ever give her the satisfaction of knowing he agreed.

He heard soft footfalls, then the voice of Lieutenant Maxell, his primary aide. He turned and saw her hurrying to him. "What is it?"

She handed him a padd. "For your eyes, sir. Command was quite specific."

"I will listen to it in the shuttle." Where prying eyes and ears could not intrude; Starfleet made sure to have the latest security measures in place to provide at least one safe place to communicate during what was often extended stays on sometimes hostile worlds.

"Very good, sir." She walked back with him toward the shuttleport. "It's beautiful here. It'll make one heck of a good tourist spot once they demilitarize. I wish I could explore more."

He knew she had not seen much of the planet; she had volunteered with the sick when it was clear the diplomatic effort was on hold. Fortunately for those who were helping, the disease seemed to target only Delexians. Minimal containment procedures were needed for any non-native medical teams.

"It is indeed lovely here, Lieutenant." He wondered if Christine would stay once the medical crisis was over. Was she in love with Dilar?

He felt surge of annoyance that such a useless thought would intrude when he had work to do.

Did he care because he didn't want to envision her being happy when he was not, or was it simply a natural reaction to having been rebuked, if privately and quite gently, by the leader of this world on her behalf? Some part of him—the rational observer who was always there—noted there could be a third reason: that he was jealous. He decided to not ponder the underlying cause of his feelings.

##

Chapel was curled up in the window seat that looked over the lake behind the Chancellor's residence, when Dilar came in, looking very smug. "What did you do?"

She'd learned what that look meant when she first met Dilar, back when she'd been hurting worse than she thought she could hurt. She'd only been in ops a few months when Spock had given his life to save the Enterprise. Jim had come to her when they'd gotten back to tell her what had happened.

He'd known she and Spock had been spending time together when Spock was an instructor at the Academy and she was newly at ops. He'd known they'd been on the verge of something. And then Spock died.

And later, when she'd gone to Vulcan, after Spock had been reborn, Jim had been there for her again, a constant friend. When Spock didn't know her, didn't seem to want to get to know her again, and was constantly attended to by a young Vulcan girl.

To say that Chapel had hated Valeris on sight would be an exaggeration. It had taken at least a day for her to realize that somewhere in the refusion she'd been lost. Anything she and Spock had forged was gone. It shouldn't have been a surprise that she was forgotten. Spock hadn't remembered his friendship with Jim, the most important relationship in his life—why would he remember some burgeoning rapport with her?

And this girl she'd only heard of as a protégé was joined at the hip with him. Spock wasn't wrong in thinking that she hadn't been thrilled to see Valeris on the assignment list when the Academy interims were announced, but she'd gone out of her way to treat her fairly. She'd been only too happy to get rid of her, though, when Cartwright had wanted her.

But that day on Vulcan, when Spock stared at her as coldly as he ever had and asked her why she had come, she'd had her heart shredded with that whip-smart girl watching. After the whale probe, she'd started travelling more than she stayed on Earth. She'd buried herself in work. The consummate professional. Until she met Dilar, someone she couldn't fool no matter how much she tried.

Dilar knew what Spock had meant to her. Dilar also knew that was in the past. Or had been until Spock decided that his precious little traitor wouldn't have gone bad without a push from Chapel. And then showed up on this goddamn planet once she thought she was free of him.

She took a deep breath. "Dilar?"

"I ran into Spock. I made it clear you were important to me. That he should...take care."

Chapel had worked too many emergencies where it had been vital to have the head of state behind her not to know how key Dilar's championship would be with Spock. She just wished she didn't need it. "Thanks—but you shouldn't have and you know that."

Dilar shrugged and sat next to her, leaning against the opposite wall, her feet tucked under Chapel's legs. "When I spoke of you, he had an interesting reaction."

"Yes, unfettered disgust."

"No disgust. Anger, yes. But some of it was at himself, I think. But...well, it was complicated. I believe his feelings for you are complex."

"Oh, yeah, real complex. He hates me."

"Not really."

"Dilar, don't do this. Unless you're sick of me. Are you? I can go back to the dorms. You don't need to try to pretend Spock is interested in me for anything other than payback just to get me to break up with you."

"Fine, but I wanted to set the stage going forward. To let him know how he will treat you. Because both of you are performing tasks I consider vital and it is illogical for you to avoid him and for him to resent you when there is nothing to resent you for. And no, I'm not tired of you." She pulled Chapel's legs over and began giving her a foot massage. "But, Christine, when you can read people the way my species can, we learn to be realistic. People have feelings and urges and needs, and what we want is not always what we can have. You and I are friends. We have a wonderful time in bed. I love you dearly. But I am not the love of your life and you are not mine."

Chapel frowned—but less in pain at what Dilar was saying than at annoyance that she couldn't figure out who it was who held her friend's heart. Maybe she should stop trying to sleuth it and just ask? "Who's yours?"

Dilar's mouth tilted but she shook her head.

"But there is someone?"

"Oh, yes. It is...complicated. As all relationships are." Dilar sighed. "You need to talk to Spock, Christine. Really talk, not trade barbed insults—do not look at me with that hurt look. I know you."

"I need to not talk to him. I need to stay in here and have incredible sex with you."

"You can talk to him and have incredible sex with me, the two are not mutually exclusive. These rooms will close in on you if you never leave them other than to work. He hurt you. Multiple times. But you're one of the strongest women I know. This hiding and moping is beneath you."

Chapel closed her eyes and exhaled loudly. Primarily because Dilar was right. She could feel movement on the cushion, then the warmth of Dilar's breath on her cheek.

"You don't have to talk to him right this minute though," Dilar said with a laugh as she pushed Chapel to her back and reminded her why she'd come back to Delex IV in the first place.

Well, the other reason. Her first reason was that Dilar represented safety.

And Dilar was right. Chapel had lived her life in emergencies. Stubborn bureaucrats had trembled before her. She had to grow back the pair of balls she used to be known for.

She had to face Spock.