The Problem of Being Human

By Djinn

Chapter 1: Ashes, Ashes We All Fall Down

Part 1

Amanda sat in her study in the embassy, staring at her son, trying to take in his words. "You're doing what?"

"I am going to Vulcan—to Gol, Mother. To study the Kolinahr discipline." He could barely meet her eyes, as if he knew how absurd he sounded.

"Darling, if this is your idea of a joke, it's not funny."

"I am most serious. I feel that it is imperative that I undertake this study.

"This study—don't you mean this purge? Everything emotional. Everything human—and Vulcan—about you. To become some kind of..." She swallowed heavily. "Why would you ever do this? You've been happy aboard the ship. I saw how happy you were."

"That was some time ago."

There was something in his voice, in his eyes. Something broken. "And a captain ago? Kirk's been promoted, Spock. He's busy—that doesn't mean he's forsaken you."

"You have not heard, then?"

"Heard...?"

"He married a colleague in the admiralty. Lori Ciani." The way he said the name—the pain in his voice. She wanted to go to him, to comfort him, but he would no doubt push her away.

"Married? Are you sure?" It seemed so unlikely given the reputation Kirk had.

"Quite. They are both rising stars. The match is quite logical, when assessed without emotion."

"I see." This made no sense. Forget Kirk's reputation—she'd seen the devotion he had for her son. The humor, the warmth. She'd seen Spock fairly basking in it.

"He has not told me himself about this. I heard it from Doctor McCoy."

That bothered her even more. Since when couldn't the great James T. Kirk handle his own messy business? "That doesn't mean he's forgotten you."

"We have both been on Earth for sixty-seven days. We have barely spoken."

"Oh, Spock. He's probably just getting used to being one of the big brass. This is no reason to run off to Gol."

"It is every reason, Mother. You have no idea what I have endured these last years. The things I have done. The emotion I have...suffered."

She tried not to think that was a slap at her. "Your father has emotions as all Vulcans do. He simply finds a way to manage them."

"He has the luxury of being a full Vulcan."

This time the slap was unmistakable; did he think it was her fault he was facing this? How dare he? His human part was half of what made him so remarkable. "Sybok was a full Vulcan, but he embraced his goddamn emotions."

"Anger. So typical." His tone was full of the haughty condemnation she'd endured from T'Pau and others when she first took up with Sarek—while he was still bonded to Sybok's mother T'Mela. But Spock's eyes were all too human in the way they were pleading. As if he wanted her approval—to what? Forget he ever loved her? Throw everything good and human about himself away?

"Spock, please." She did get up, did try to hold him, but he stepped back. "My dearest, dearest boy, please talk to your father if I can't convince you. He's no advocate of Gol."

"I have already told him."

And Sarek hadn't told her? She might have stopped this before Spock had put too much emotion—too much intention—into this. But her husband hadn't even warned her.

"I do not think he thought I was serious, but you are right: he opposed my going."

Which would only make her obstinate son all the more determined to go. Damn Sarek for not telling her.

She pushed down her fear, her panic, and even her love, channeling every bit of logic she could draw on. "This is a drastic step, Spock. There are other ways. Retreats where you can refresh and meditate. Where you can move on without discarding everything you've worked for. It doesn't have to be all or nothing. There are others who would welcome a relationship with you. That nice Nurse Chapel, for instance. It was clear she cared for you."

A look she couldn't read crossed his face. "Christine is...a woman of fine character. But I do not—she is not..."

"Jim. She's not Jim. Did you tell him? Did you tell him how you feel?" She tried to cup his cheek, to let him feel her regret and her probably too-desperate love, but he jerked away.

"Yes, I took your advice. I told him. Just before he left. So he would have time to think without my presence influencing his decision. This, then, was his answer—to marry another. It is a rebuke, Mother. It is exactly that. And I was foolish to think it would be different. He has never... I have made overtures—subtle, but if he had wanted..."

"Then he's the fool, Spock, not you."

"That is not comforting. Not at all." He moved closer and touched her arm gently, but on the fabric of her robe, not her flesh. No feelings to overwhelm him. "Of all the emotions I have encountered, yours were the most pure. If I forget—if I cannot return them—it is not because I do not care for you now. I do. I will just...be different."

"Spock, please don't do this."

"I must, Mother. I must." He leaned in, laying his lips on her cheek the way he used to, when he was a child. "I love you."

Then he was gone.

She stood frozen for a moment, then pulled out her communicator, ordered one of the embassy's official flitters, and drew whatever dignity around her that she could before she hurried—in a way befitting the wife of the ambassador—out of their personal quarters and past Sarek's assistant.

The flitter was waiting outside and she told the onboard nav system, "Starfleet Command," then sat motionless on the ride over, afraid if she didn't contain her rage and panic and anguish with absolute stillness, it would overwhelm her.

She flashed her credentials at the guard, and could see his surprise, but she was on the approved visitor list from some prior meeting she'd attended with Sarek, and he finally waved her through. But once she got inside, she was lost.

Where the hell was James T. Kirk's office? She could feel herself panicking and fought for control. "Excuse me," she said to a passing woman.

The brunette turned and smiled. "Amanda?"

For a moment, Amanda didn't recognize her. Then she thanked whatever God looked out for desperate mothers. "Nurse Chapel—Christine, how wonderful that it's you. I need to find Captain—Admiral Kirk. It's really quite an emergency." She could hear the near hysteria in her voice and tried to dial it down.

"Okay, come on. I uh...I don't know where his office is exactly, but I know the general area, and we'll figure out the rest as we go." She was gentle as she touched Amanda's elbow, steering her in the opposite direction she'd been headed—gentle and wonderfully incapable of reading what she was feeling. "Can you tell me what's wrong? It's not Sarek, is it?"

"No, it's Spock. Darling, please, no more questions. Just help me." Why couldn't her son have fallen in love with this gentle woman instead of Kirk? He never would have had to wonder if he was cared for. "Am I taking you away from something important?"

"I was just grabbing some food for home. We residents live on take-out. No one wants to cook after a shift."

"Oh, you're a doctor now?"

"Yep. Newly minted."

"Congratulations." They stepped into a lift and she closed her eyes for a moment, then said, "He's leaving."

"Kirk is?"

"No, Spock. It's why I have to find Kirk. He can stop him. Only he can."

"Okayyy." Christine sounded confused, but led her quickly down a new hallway as soon as the doors opened.

The corridors were a maze, but Christine kept saying "Admiral Kirk?" at the officers they passed and following the direction they pointed. Finally one of the people she asked, a young man with a New England accent that reminded Amanda of home, said, "I'll take you. But I don't think he's here."

No. He had to be here.

Another officer shook her head at the young man when they finally made it to Jim's office. "He's on his honeymoon."

"His honeymoon?" Christine frowned. "Who the hell did he marry?"

"Admiral Ciani, Doctor. Not that it's any of your business." The woman looked at Amanda. "And you are?"

"Too late." She could barely breathe.

"Is she all right?" The woman was rising.

Christine motioned her back. "I've got it. Sorry to have bothered you." She asked Amanda softly, "Can anyone else help? I can take you to them."

"No," she said as she followed Christine and the young man who'd helped them out of the room. "It's all ruined."

"Ma'am, can I call someone for you?" The young man was as gentle as Christine. Such sweet people in this place that had destroyed her son. That killed the best parts of him: the parts that could feel, both human and Vulcan.

"I'll take her. It's fine. Thank you." Christine led her back to the lobby. "I don't understand anything except that you're hurting."

"So human of me to do that." Spock might blame her for his human tendencies, but it was as likely he'd have fallen in love with Kirk if he'd been a full Vulcan. After all, Sarek had fallen in love with her. She wondered if that was what Spock was thinking, that being human or Vulcan was a life sentence for the kind of pain that only loving someone could bring. So he would become neither. The Kolinahr masters, with their machine-like serenity, gave her the creeps and now her son would be one of them.

Christine sat with her. "How can I help?"

She gave a helpless shrug, then a nearly hysterical laugh started to come out of her. "Can you go seduce my son? I mean now, right now."

Christine turned red. "I'm sure I could try, but he doesn't want me. So it won't do any good." Her eyes were full of compassion. "Please, let me help you."

"I need to go back to the Embassy." But the idea of that—to have to hide how much pain she was in—undid her.

"I can go with you, if you want—make sure you get there, to Sarek."

"You don't have to." Shit, she was crying. She dashed the tears away, trying to make sure no one saw her breaking down. "And Sarek won't be available. He's in meetings. They last forever."

"Is there anyone else there who you can cry with? Because you're shaking and I think you need to let go."

"No. I'm the wife of the Vulcan ambassador. My behavior has to be above reproach. My...control." She could hear her voice, how distant she sounded. "My control—I hate it." She closed her eyes, trying to slow her breathing, trying to reach for the control she really did hate at this moment.

But it was useless. "I need a fucking drink. Now."

Christine laughed softly, a bittersweet note in the sound, as if she understood how close Amanda was to breaking down. "My place, then. I have lots to drink. And no one to judge."

"You don't have to. Sarek will worry once he gets out of his meetings and doesn't find me there."

"I'll comm him. He'll come."

How did this woman know that? Her husband would come—might already be feeling that she needed him—but most humans would never understand his love for her. How much he cared. The lengths he would go to make her happy.

Except for telling her that their son was throwing everything away. Had he really thought Spock was...joking? Being dramatic?

Damn him!

"Unless this is about the two of them. I remember he and Spock..."

She laughed. "For once Spock's actions have very little to do with his father." She sighed heavily. "I have a flitter. You won't have to walk."

"That's great but can you wait while I grab some food?"

"Of course." She looked, really looked at Christine. How tired she seemed. How this must be the time of day she looked forward to. No one at her, needing her. "Oh, darling, no. I can go back to the embassy. I'm ruining your—"

"Amanda, stop. You're coming back with me. All right?" She was fierce, her hand tight on her shoulder. So comforting, so free with her emotions.

"Yes, dear. Yes."

"I'll be right back. Do you want anything?"

"No." Amanda leaned back in the chair, exhausted now that nothing more could be done. "I'll just wait here. Take your time, my dear. There's no rush anymore."

No rush at all. She could sit here, heart breaking slowly with each passing minute, all goddamned night.

Her Spock was gone.

##

Sarek was trying and failing to focus on the status reports the members of his team were relaying because Amanda's distress was pounding at him through the bond. As soon as all sections were accounted for, he stood, and said, "We will table the rest until tomorrow."

It was unlike him to cut a meeting short, and the others looked surprised but not overly concerned. They would no doubt think he had been called to Federation Headquarters or had an important comm scheduled with Vulcan. It would never occur to them he might shirk his duty for purely personal reasons.

He found his assistant and said softly, "Where is my wife, T'Sanya?"

"She left, sir. Right after your son did."

"My son was here?" He held back a sigh. "Is he still here?"

"No, sir. He asked me to give you this."

It was written on the most simple of Vulcan papers, in script Spock had once struggled to master. I know you do not approve. Nevertheless I have proceeded and been accepted to petition for mastery of Kolinahr. I begin my journey now. Live long and prosper, Father.

Sarek again had to bite back a sigh. One born of both pain that his son had said goodbye to his mother in person but had not paid him the same courtesy, and of frustration that he had gone ahead with this. Always so obstinate.

Gol was no place for him, no solution for what ailed him. Sarek was no stranger to romantic discord—his first wife and he had enjoyed little peace. But seeking to purge his emotions over one man's defection—even if Spock had not couched it in that manner—was ill advised and impulsive.

Always he had been this way. Say to go right and he jumped left. Generally without looking.

Sarek had been a fool to think that telling him Gol was an inappropriate choice would be the end of it.

And he had not told Amanda what Spock had in mind. He could feel anger mixing with the distress. Anger that felt more like fury than simply aggravation.

He had not thought Spock would go through with it. So few Vulcans did. Why would his son be one of them?

But Spock was gone and he could do nothing more for him. Amanda, however, was a different matter.

"Do you know where my wife went?" he asked T'Sanya.

"She took a flitter." She pulled up the records. "Starfleet Command and now...it appears to be a residential building."

"The Visiting Officer's Quarters?" Perhaps she had gone after Spock. One last effort to change his mind. Amanda was nothing if not persistent.

"No, sir. And I can't get more for you—she's prevented it from being logged." There was disapproval in her voice.

It was not her place to pass judgment on his wife even if this was worrying. "Thank you," he said brusquely, as if he was unconcerned with his wife's actions.

Then he made his way to their quarters and pulled out his private communicator, hitting the key combo that would dial Amanda.

A moment later, a woman whose voice he did not recognize answered. "Hello?"

"Who is this? Why are you on my wife's communicator?"

"Ambassador, it's Christine Chapel. I'm not sure if you remember me. I served with your son on the Enterprise."

"And took most excellent care of me, Nurse Chapel." Why would Amanda be with her?

"I'm flattered you remember. And it's Doctor Chapel now, actually."

"Doctor." He felt a moment of panic that a doctor had been needed. "My wife—is she ill? Injured?"

"Not exactly. Can you come to my place?" An address appeared on the text screen. "I've set the outside door for you so you won't have to bother buzzing to get in."

"Can you not tell me what this is about?"

"A broken heart, I think. Please just come." She cut the connection with no further comment, a move that surprised him. It was so...Vulcan.

He walked back out to T'Sanya and said, "Please clear my calendar." It was a light day fortunately. "I do not know when I will be back."

"Do you wish me to order a flitter for you?"

"No, I will walk." Chapel's apartment was very close to the embassy. The walk took him no time and he passed several people who stared at him. The city was full of tourists who had probably never seen a Vulcan outside of photos or vids. And certainly not one hurrying as he was, his robe billowing slightly as he strode, his face set in a stern mask that said as clearly as he could without words: "Get out of my way."

He turned at Chapel's apartment, palmed his way into the building, then took the elevator to the third floor. The building was modest, no doorman, no concierge. He realized that even as a doctor she was still at best a lieutenant, and San Francisco was an expensive city for junior officers.

She was waiting at the door to her apartment, and he realized he must have triggered an alert of some sort when he palmed the door. She gestured for him to come in, and he did, walking slowly now, unsure what he would see.

He did not expect it to be his wife asleep on the couch, a light blanket covering her. He took in the empty wineglass and nearly empty bottle in front of her, another glass half full in front of a chair where Chapel had no doubt been sitting. "Please explain."

"I ran into her at Command. She was looking for Admiral Kirk. Something about Spock leaving. She...she didn't tell me much. But Kirk is out of town, and she was so upset, and she said she needed a drink, and well, that's a really tasty wine." She had the grace to look chagrined.

"Do you not have antitox?"

She met his eyes. "I do. But why disturb her? Let her have some peace. I can give her antitox when she wakes up."

He exhaled—loudly, to his dismay.

"Do you need a drink, Ambassador?"

"I do not." He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling as if his son had once again made the footing under his feet less secure. It would no doubt shock Spock to know he had that much power over him. "Please, call me Sarek. It seems odd to stand on ceremony when my wife is not even on her feet."

Chapel laughed softly. "All right, Sarek. Would you like something less alcoholic to drink?"

"Tea perhaps—if you have it."

"I have lots of it. I spent time in the Far East when I was a kid. I learned to love tea. But I'm afraid most of mine has caffeine. No herbal tisanes in this kitchen."

He shrugged, not caring at this point.

"I have a lovely oolong. Very soothing. Please, sit. And you can call me Christine if you're comfortable being as informal as you said I could be." She went into the kitchen and he sat at the counter, glancing over at Amanda occasionally, who did look quite peaceful.

He expected efficiency, but Christine pulled out some kind of mesh basket that hooked over the side of the mug and put loose tea in it, then added water that was cooler than what he normally saw humans use, more the temperature of water for the Vulcan tea ceremony. "You take your tea quite seriously."

She laughed. "I do. You're lucky I didn't pull out the gongfu-cha set." The tea did not steep long and she handed it to him. "Baozhong. Used to be you could hardly find it outside Taiwan. It's one of my favorites."

"Most kind." He was not sure what more to say. He was used to commanding a negotiation; this...this he was not certain how to play.

She broke the silence. "Sarek, it's none of my business what's going on but...what's going on?"

He made a great show of taking in the aroma of the tea, which was lovely, as he decided how much he would tell her. Finally, he said, "My son has elected to pursue a Vulcan discipline that will purge him of all emotion. His mother and I are opposed to this course of action. I, for more intellectual reasons. She—she takes it more personally, as you have no doubt seen."

"And she needed Kirk to stop him?" She suddenly laughed, but it was a bitter sound. "Well, I guess that old question is finally answered. Were they or weren't they?" She frowned. "And why is he now on his honeymoon? Or is that why Spock wants to ditch his emotions?"

He did not expect her to grasp the situation so fully. "I have perhaps already said too much."

"Maybe." She took a long breath and let it out slowly, as if she was releasing something. "Kinda makes me feel better. Who can compete with the golden boy?" She laughed—again a bitter puff of air rather than true amusement.

He was unsure how to follow that.

She finally asked, "You like the tea?"

He sipped it. "It is delicious. Thank you."

She yawned and he wondered how long she had been up—new doctors often worked punishing hours. "We are intruding. It is time for me to take my wife home."

Although this reprieve from her emotional distress was agreeable.

"I'll wake her for you." She walked to the couch, kneeling, her voice low and kind—he remembered that from his time in sickbay.

Amanda came awake slowly and didn't appear to notice him. "You're such a sweet girl. My son's an idiot to not want you." She grinned and cupped Christine's cheek, their faces very close. "I don't know what I would have done without you."

Christine seemed uncertain what to do, so Sarek said, "I am here, my wife."

Immediately he could feel the anger rise—strong enough to come through the connection they had from the bond. But she did not show the anger to Christine.

"So you are, my husband. He's a fine figure of a man, isn't he, darling? Striking, really. Especially that beautiful noble nose."

Chapel grinned at him in an apologetic way he found charming. "Yes, an excellent nose."

"Don't you think she's nice, darling? Shouldn't Spock have chosen her? Isn't our son an idiot?"

He did not think it wise to agree with anything except the first part of her declarations. "Christine is, indeed, most kind."

"Awww, you called her by her name. He must feel comfortable with you." Her words were light; the emotion he was feeling through the bond was anything but.

"I made him tea."

Amanda laughed. "I seriously doubt that's why he's comfortable with you, my darling." She sat up. "Okay, who's going to give me some antitox?"

"I am." Christine got up and pulled a bottle out of a desk drawer. A very large bottle. As his eyebrow went up, she glared at him and said, "What? Med school was stressful. Residency still is." Then she shook out a pill and handed it to Amanda. "Fast acting. Just put it under your tongue."

"You think I don't know how antitox works? I know it's hard to believe, but I've been a naughty girl once or twice in my life, haven't I, Sarek?"

He was debating whether to answer when her expression changed. The alcohol-induced good humor fell from her, and she was left where she had started: in grief. A grief that pounded at him far more than her anger had.

She closed her eyes, swaying a little, and Christine was quick to reach out and steady her.

"Go slow. It's okay."

Amanda clutched her for a moment, whispering something he could not make out. Christine looked at him almost helplessly.

"I will take her." He finished his tea—it was, indeed, delicious, and gave him a moment to compose himself before what would no doubt be an emotional barrage as soon as he touched his wife—and walked to her, taking her arm, easing her toward the door. "If you ever have need of me, Christine, I am at your service. Please forgive us for disturbing you."

"It was no bother, Sarek. Honestly, it was nice to be needed."

He met her eyes, struck by what a brilliant blue they were. "Your desire to help speaks volumes about your character."

Amanda turned to look at her. "I wouldn't have made it through the day without you. Maybe...we could have lunch sometime?"

"I don't really get much time off during the day." Her tone made it sound like the truth, not a polite evasion.

"Then dinner. I feel...close to you, Christine. You made me feel safe."

He knew his wife rarely admitted weakness. Clearly, Christine's assistance did mean much to her. "At the embassy, even," he said. "Perhaps you could bring more of that tea?"

She grinned. "I could do that. Happy to have made a convert." She yawned, then immediately apologized.

"Get some rest, darling. We've taken enough of your time." Amanda smiled gently, then pulled away from Sarek, somehow drawing the grace and serenity she always presented to the world around her despite the anguish and rage he could feel growing though the bond.

##

Amanda followed Sarek into the flitter she'd never sent back to the embassy, not looking at him as he told the nav system where to take them.

She stared out the window once he sat back, eased her hand away so there would be no skin-to-skin contact.

The silence was horrible, but she refused to be the one to break it. Blinking back tears, she tried to take her mind to some calm, blank spot.

But all she could see was Spock.

But perhaps he wouldn't be accepted. This was just the petitioning stage. Many were deemed unacceptable and turned away. It might kill Spock to be designated that way, but it would be the best thing—the right thing. She closed her eyes and concentrated on that, on making it happen. Reject him. Reject him. Reject him.

Sarek's voice startled her out of the near trance she was in. "I am perplexed, my wife."

She didn't answer.

"Why go to Doctor Chapel's apartment? Why involve her in this?" He reached over, touching her chin gently, forcing her to look at him. "And why did you not involve me?"

"Oh, that's rich." She didn't try to hold back her anger and saw him recoil at the surge of rage that no doubt reached him through his fingers, through the bond, through the fact that they just knew each other too damn well for him not to feel it. "Sharing information would have been a great idea for you too. But no. Why in God's name wouldn't you have told me Spock was considering Gol? You know I hate those...automatons."

"That is precisely why I did not tell you. I did not believe he was serious and did not wish to spark a conflict between you and him based on how you view the practitioners of Kolinahr."

"So this is my fault?"

He actually sighed. "I did not say that, Amanda. It is no one's fault—except perhaps Spock's."

"No, it's that damned admiral's fault, that's whose it is. I hate Kirk. I hate him for not having the balls to just tell Spock he didn't want him. They served together for so long. Why couldn't he at least have talked to him?" She touched his hand. "Why couldn't he have loved our son?"

"I do not know." He squeezed her hand, his gaze so full of pain and compassion she wanted to pull him to her, but her anger kept her from doing it. "I regret I did not tell you. Perhaps—perhaps if I had, you could have stopped him."

"We'll never know now." She swallowed hard and went back to looking out the window. Taking up her silent chant—trying to make it a spell, even if she didn't believe in such things.

Reject him. Reject him. Reject him.

##

A few weeks after she'd helped Amanda, Chapel was in the officer's lounge with several other doctors, celebrating that they were all about to have a couple days off, when she felt a gentle tap on her shoulder.

She turned and saw Kirk. "Oh, hello, sir."

"Call me Jim, Christine. Jeez." He sounded like he'd been drinking. He wasn't loudmouthed "Do something crazy" drunk but well past his first drink.

Then again she wasn't exactly sober herself, so who was she to judge? "Okay. Jim."

"Word is you were looking for me."

"Actually I wasn't. Amanda was."

His expression changed immediately and became less open. Wary, even. "Ah, so that's who the woman my aide couldn't recognize was."

She waited, not sure what to do with that.

Finally he leaned in, having to talk louder as a group two tables down got increasingly raucous. "So what did she want?"

"Can we go outside for a sec?" She gestured toward the balcony where it was quieter, and he nodded and followed her out.

"Congrats, by the way. On your M.D." He sounded sincere; he'd given her a great recommendation when she'd left the ship.

"Thank you." She led him toward a quiet spot and said, "It was about Spock."

"Well, I didn't think she came to ask me how I was." He sounded on edge, in a way Chapel hadn't seen before. Other than when he'd been split into two people. Snappy, almost vicious.

Or maybe she was just reading into it. It wasn't like she and this man were friends, despite how long she'd served with him.

"So how is Spock?" His tone was sarcastic "Let me guess—he's with you?"

"No, he's not with me. He's not with anyone. Do you not know?" She watched what seemed like honest bafflement play out on his face.

"Know what?"

"He's gone. He went to some place where Vulcans purge all emotions. The Spock we know..." She didn't understand any of this. Had pieced together what she could from what Amanda had told her—or more accurately mumbled while she was transitioning from drunk to passed out.

But she did know the rumors. How close this man and Spock were. How much they'd do for each other. The obvious bond.

And yet Kirk was married to some Admiral.

And Spock had...fled.

Was this man to blame for that? She'd seen how many women he'd been with over the years. Knew his reputation.

But she also knew a little of the real man. The guy who clearly...loved Spock.

Nothing made any sense, and she just wanted to go back to her group and finish celebrating and then go sleep for fifteen hours. "Maybe you should go see Amanda."

"Yeah." He turned.

"Maybe you should sober up first." She dug in her pocket, but he laughed bitterly and pulled out a container of antitox.

"Not fast enough, Doctor. And I need this way too often." He studied her. "But then you don't care how much I hate my life right now, do you?"

She had no idea how to answer that. "I'm sorry," she finally settled on saying.

"Yeah, you and me both." He slipped a tablet under his tongue then hurried off.

She stood a moment, watching him leave, then heard a voice behind her. "Do I want to know why my husband fled right after coming out here to be alone with you?" The words were accusatory, but the tone amused. "He tells me to meet him here then leaves before I can even say hello. Men."

Chapel turned and saw a petite brunette studying her. "Admiral Ciani?"

"Right in one. Buy that girl a drink." She sat in one of the deck chairs, crossed one leg over the other, and sipped her drink—something clear with a lime. "So... Where'd Jim go?"

Chapel was too tired to try to lie to this woman. "The Vulcan embassy. Something to do with the ambassador—his family."

"That's discretion of the first order. I like you." She laughed softly, her smile almost as charming as Kirk's could be. "You can call me Lori, and you are...?"

"Chapel. Doctor. Christine. I uh, I was a nurse on the Enterprise." She was stammering like some rank ensign. "Sorry. It's been a long day."

"Not so long you can't still lie with distinction. Or misdirect, rather. Did Jim go to see Spock? He is, after all, part of the ambassador's family."

"No. Spock's not there."

Lori's lips went up on one side. "Not lying to me now, are you? We both know Spock is far, far away. Jim doesn't, though." She took a deep breath. "He's going to be no fun to live with when he comes back. Have you ever deeply regretted a marriage, Christine?"

"No, but I've deeply regretted throwing my career away by chasing after a fiancé who turned out to be not what I thought."

Lori laughed again, a truly amused sound that made Chapel smile. "I really like you. Why has he never mentioned you to me? I hear about all his crew when he gets nostalgic drunk. But not you."

That didn't surprise her. "I left."

"Ah. Cardinal sin."

It was Chapel's turn to laugh. "It was for med school, not because I was unhappy. He understood."

"I'm sure he did. Probably gave you a glowing recommendation. Doesn't mean he'll ever forget you didn't want to stay." She leaned in. "He's a walking contradiction, our Jim. Wants to progress. Wants to stay on the ship. Thinks his crew should stay together. Wants them promoted despite them doing the same thing for fucking ever. And the amazing thing is so many of them are staying on for Decker." She seemed to be studying Chapel. "You know him?"

"I do. He's a good man."

"He is. We like him, up where the brass live." She smiled in a way Chapel couldn't read. "Can I buy you a drink?"

"Oh, my friends have—" She looked into the room. Her friends were gone and the table had been cleared. "Uh, yeah. I guess you can."

"I want to know all about you." Lori took her arm. "And I want to hear stories about Jim no one else knows."

Chapel laughed as if she was going to comply—she had a feeling no one ever told this woman "No" successfully—but she didn't think she was going to tell her anything she didn't already know about Kirk. She hadn't been that close to him, and she still felt loyalty to him, even if he had been her competition for Spock's heart.

##

Amanda steeled herself as she walked down the stairs and to her office. Normally, she would have invited Kirk into the salon Sarek and she used with personal friends and acquaintances where they could relax, but she didn't want Sarek to hear, or worse jump into this conversation. They might be united in thinking Spock had made a mistake in going to Gol, but that was about all they agreed on right now.

She didn't want him even knowing about it until she told him—just like she hadn't known about Spock.

She slowed her breath, trying to bite back the anger that seemed to fill her more and more. She could feel Sarek's aggravation through the bond. Their connection had been such a comfort to her before Spock left. Would it be again?

Did she care if it wouldn't—if her anger destroyed it?

Her office—all the offices—were extraordinarily well soundproofed to give embassy personnel privacy from each other's keen ears. She would be safe here. Safe to be as human as she wanted. She took a deep steadying breath, then opened the door.

Kirk stood when she entered. She decided not to tell him to sit—let him wait for her to get comfortable before he took his seat again. The rage—or maybe it was hatred at this point—she felt for this man was manageable only if she let it out in small ways, took petty victories. And for once she could take them out on him, not on her husband and those around her.

"What can I do for you, Admiral?" She sounded Vulcan. God knew she'd worked hard at that over the years.

"Spock."

She cocked her head and studied him. Did he really think one word—her lost son's name—would move her now?

Now that he was well and truly gone. He'd commed four days after she'd gone to Starfleet Command. He'd been accepted into the initial level of instruction, the first steps taken into the discipline. He'd already sounded so distant. He hadn't apologized, hadn't tried to make her feel better.

He wasn't Human—or Vulcan anymore really. He might as well be a computer. Inputs and outputs and logic with nothing to temper it.

Now this man wanted to...what? Fix it? Two weeks later? Spock still might be rejected during the process, but he would never leave of his own accord. She knew her son too well to hope that he might change his mind.

Kirk began to shift a little, and she felt a mean little thrill of victory at making the great captain uncomfortable. She finally asked, "What about Spock?"

"Christine said he was...gone? That you needed me—how can I help?" He leaned in, smiling gently, and she knew he was turning on his famous Kirk charm.

She used to feel warmed by it, by him. Now...now despite the white-hot rage that seemed to fill her all the time, she felt as if she were freezing inside. As if she, too, were at Gol. "He's gone, I understand I have you to thank for that."

The charm died, and he sat back and studied her the same way she had him. "You understand nothing."

"He loved you." She fairly spat it at him, her voice raised and she could see the surprise in his face. "This room is soundproofed. We can speak plainly, Admiral. He loved you and you—"

"And I loved him. He was like my brother. My best friend. My trusted second. My touchstone. But lover? He sprang that on me, Amanda. One moment he's my first officer and the next he's talking about forever. About...loving me. About plans he'd made—and I had no say. He got there in his solitary logical way and never thought to make it less...unilateral. To let me..." He sighed and shook his head as he trailed off. "He just sprang it on me."

She wanted to tell him to go to hell, but there was something in his voice. Lost and defeated. But not guilty. He believed what he said. "You couldn't have grown to love him? We both know Vulcans are impetuous at times. They process things outside of the partnership. It may seem sudden, but they've been considering options for some time."

"He was also adrift. No ship. No familiar crew. He didn't like his assignment—or his new boss. I wasn't sure how much was really about me and how much was him grabbing for something familiar because he was unhappy." He closed his eyes.

"So you went and married someone else just in case it was the latter?"

He leaned forward, took her hands, and she wished she was Vulcan, so she could read him. "My relationships haven't worked in the past. I have a son I'm not allowed to see because of that. His mother was a woman I considered my other half, my soulmate—physically and mentally. But it...ended. They all end. And the friendships end with the romance. Spock was too important to me to risk it. I thought if I just gave him time..."

She let her eyebrow go up in a perfect imitation of a Vulcan. "You mean your marriage isn't real?"

"It's...strategic. For both of us. But I doubt either of us will renew after the year is out."

"And they say romance is dead." She tried to stare at him the way Vulcans used to stare at her, as if she was lower than the bugs that crawled beneath their feet.

"I do miss him, Amanda. I just wanted to give us all time."

"You fool. You fucking fool."

He looked as shocked as she'd ever seen him. Did he think she didn't swear? In private, in her head, in her dreams even? "I did what I thought best." Now he sounded angry—but guilt did that. Sarek often sounded angry with her when he couldn't explain why he hadn't told her about Spock's plans and she wouldn't let it go.

"He's gone, Admiral. The man you love is gone. The son I love is gone. He's never coming back."

"I could go there."

"They won't let you in. They wouldn't even let me in, if I went. And what would you do if you did get in?"

"Try to explain. He never let me explain."

"Well, no, when the man you loves marries someone else after finding out the truth of your feelings, one tends not to stick around." She got up, suddenly unable to stay still, and frustrated because it had been easier to hate this man—to channel all her anger at him—before he came to talk to her.

Now she could see how much he cared.

Now she could see the panic growing in his eyes.

She walked to him and touched his cheek—his oh-so-human skin. "He's gone, Jim. He's not coming back. There's nothing any of us can do."

He shook his head. "He just needs time—we just needed time."

"Time's up." She turned on her heel and left him sitting there. He was a capable Starfleet officer; he could find his own damn way to the exit.

She pulled out her communicator, called for a flitter, and had it go to Christine's apartment, but she didn't answer the intercom.

"Instructions?" the flitter's nav system asked when she climbed back in.

"Golden Gate Park."

"More specificity is required. Please state desired activity so optimum disembarkation site may be calculated.

She closed her eyes. "Just take me to the fucking park."

There was no response as the nav system searched. "I do not understand that activity. Please restate."

She had to fight the urge to beat on the console. It would not do for the wife of the ambassador to be seen exercising undo emotion. She wanted to drink—to get rollicking drunk and have Christine take care of her again—but that wasn't going to happen. She could go to a bar, but someone might recognize her. It might be embarrassing for Sarek if she got too drunk, if she said something untoward. She hadn't felt this constricted since she'd first gone to live on Vulcan.

She had nowhere to turn. "Take me back to the embassy."

"Affirmative."