The BLTS Archive- Twelfth Night
by TMeenie (TMeenie@aol.com)

---

Copyright 1997 by Beth Meenaghan.

This is an original work of amateur fiction based on Star Trek. Its
use of  Star Trek is transformative and entirely noncommercial. It is
intended as "fair use" of the Star Trek property owned by Paramount
and Viacom and is not intended to infringe on the intellectual
property rights of Paramount, Viacom or other owners of copyright in
Star Trek or any of their assignees or licensees. The author's
copyright extends only to the original material in this work.

---

The door signal startles me.  A glance at the clock tells me I've been
dozing in my chair, another at the wine bottle tells me why. The
newscast is still murmuring in the background, though there's been
nothing new added to the report for hours.

Opening the door without an identity check, I'm startled again.

"Nyota!"

My surprise must be evident to her.  She looks uncertain. I'm not sure
why I'd assumed it would be McCoy, alone, to deliver such bad news. 
Nyota has always been my confidant, but Leonard - well, he was always
my shoulder to cry on.

"Christine?  Is this a bad time . . . ?"

"No, I - just expected Leonard, for some reason."

"He's not well, Chris."

More news I don't need.  "What's wrong?  Is he in the hospital?"

"No, he's resting at home.  I don't know what's wrong - they say
exhaustion, but . . . . "  She seems doubtful.

"Come in."

I understand her doubts.  Exhaustion bring down Leonard McCoy?  As he
would say, Poppycock!  I'll have to go see him - tomorrow.

She's looking about my apartment - taking in the newscast, volume low,
the scene in the reactor chamber replaying once more.  (How the *hell*
did they get that tape?)  Picking up the empty bottle of wine, she
turns to me.  "You've known for a while."

"The news got here before *Enterprise* docked."

"The press must have intercepted our messages."

"Maybe, but if they did Starfleet anticipated it.  They've held a
press conference already."

That bit of information earns me a scowl.  "Admiral Kirk will be
angry."

I suppose he will be, and I even understand why, but the world doesn't
care who delivers the bad news.  And it sure doesn't matter to Spock.

I last saw Nyota only two weeks ago, when we had dinner together to
celebrate her birthday.  She looked nowhere near her years, and I had
told her so.  Today, she looks every bit and then some.

The bottle of bourbon that was waiting for Leonard is in her hand. 
She considers it, puts it down.  "Do you have anymore wine?"

We each settle down with a glass to nurse, the bottle between us on
the coffee table.  She drinks her wine and stares into her glass, not
meeting my eyes.  There's that what-can-you-say silence between us.  I
already know he's dead, and that's the news she thought she was
bringing.  "Had you seen him recently?"  She's trying to draw me out. 
I know that I want her to.  There's plenty to tell, plenty she doesn't
know, but - how to begin?

"Here and there."  The news is suddenly intrusive, irritating.  I turn
off the audio.

Nyota looks up at me sharply.  She knows there's something.  I can't
tell if she's always known, but she knows now.  Maybe Hikaru tipped
her off and that's why she's here, tired as she is. Well . . . .

If I close my eyes, I remember everything so clearly.  No.  I'm there
. . .

---


"Doctor Chapel."

I looked up to see Sulu approaching from the tent he shared with
Spock.  I couldn't help but smile when I saw him.  Bare chested,
obviously enjoying the chill fresh air and sunshine, he was probably
not as oblivious as he seemed to the younger crew women who were
equally enjoying the sight of him.   But his expression caused my
smile to fade.  He ushered me into my own tent before speaking again,
quietly so that no one else would hear.

"Have you seen Spock this morning?"

"Not yet.  I just got back from scouting the area.  Actually, I've
barely seen him since we arrived at this site yesterday."  It was my
habit to take a long solitary walk first thing in the morning,
clearing my head of cobwebs and planning the day.  Afterwards, I would
meet briefly with Spock to assure that the day's efforts were
coordinated.

We were planetside with two long range shuttles.  Spock had piloted
one and was the commanding officer of the mission by default, but it
was my mission - an intensive search for plants of particular
medicinal value.  I had a team of fifteen, plus myself and Spock. 
Sulu had piloted the second shuttle and generally seemed happy to be
the only non-scientist to escape *Enterprise's* current diplomatic
mission, no matter what tasks fell his way.  He had proved himself an
able cook, working wonders with both standard rations and native
fruits and vegetables.

It occurred to me now that Spock had never showed up for dinner last
night.  I had not, in fact, seen him at all since we had finalized our
site survey plans late yesterday morning.

"I saw him briefly this morning, " Sulu was saying.  "He spent the
entire night out - "

That seemed doubtful; the nights were cold.  "Are you sure? Maybe he
just didn't wake you when he came in."

Sulu shook his head.  "No way.  Spock is the best tent mate you could
hope for, but no one sneaks up on me on an away mission.  He came in
this morning, looking a little worse for the wear.  I jokingly asked
if he'd gotten lost, and he made it clear he wasn't amused.  Then he
left again, without changing clothes or anything.  I don't even know
why he'd come in, now that I think of it."

Spock behaving irrationally?  I didn't like where this was leading,
and tried to shrug off his concerns.  "Maybe he has a girlfriend."

"Christine, I'm serious.  I think something's wrong."

"Damn.  I know, Hikaru.  I'm sorry.  We just don't need this."

"I know.  I started thinking about it, and I realized he hasn't eaten
for several days, even though he commented about appreciating my
vegetarian fare.  He's been sleeping a lot, too, even during the day -
"

"During the day?  How long has this been going on?  Why didn't you
mention it before now?"

"It started at our last site.  I just thought is was his way of coping
with the climate."

Before moving to our current equatorial location, we had spent five
days in a region near the arctic circle.  Though it was summer, the
temperature hovered near freezing.  Spock had spent most of his time
indoors analyzing data.

"Damn.  I haven't been paying attention.  Has anyone else mentioned
anything?"

Sulu shook his head.  "I think he's been avoiding everybody. He's
delegated most of the command tasks to me."

"Where is he now?"  I put down my field tricorder and started
gathering my medikit.

"He was headed up the ridge when I last saw him."

"How long ago?"

"About twenty minutes.  What are you doing?"

"I'm going after him."

"You shouldn't go alone.  I'll go with you."

"No.  You'll just antagonize him.  Tell everybody to continue the
survey along the usual pattern.  They know what they're supposed to be
doing."

"What makes you think you can find him?  He's got a good head start."

"I doubt he's feeling well enough to go far.  He probably just wanted
to be alone.  Any chance of reaching *Enterprise?*"  I asked as I
stepped through the tent flaps, though I already knew the answer.
*Enterprise* was not expected to be in range of our transmitter for
another three weeks, and we were far from the shipping lanes.

"No.  I already tried, just in case."

"I'll be back in a couple of hours, Sulu.  Don't worry about it."

---

I found Spock on top of the ridge that sheltered our camp.  I had
followed a long winding path to the top, the same one we had taken
yesterday when we first surveyed our demesne.  Spock was there, pacing
slowly, hands laced through his hair.  I could see he was at the
breaking point.  He must have been under iron control for several
days.  I wondered how I'd missed it.

"Spock," I called out to him.  I didn't want to startle him, and I
couldn't count on his hearing my approach.

He stopped his pacing to look up at me, hands dropping to his sides. 
"Go away, Doctor.  I do not want you here."  His voice was hoarse, as
if he'd been screaming.

"You know I can't do that, Spock," I said, closing the distance
between us.  He was unarmed; there were no bowls of soup in sight.  I
tossed him his outer tunic that I'd found on the way up. "You left a
trail a cadet could follow, you know."

He sat down on a rock, looking at his tunic and kneading it between
his hands.

"I'd like to examine you," I said, removing my scanner from my kit. 
I'd already calibrated it for him.

He turned on me viciously, tossing the tunic aside and grabbing my
wrist so that I dropped my scanner.  "So that you can satisfy your
curiosity, Doctor?  What would you like to know that you can't already
see?  How sick I feel?  How aroused I am?  How quickly the condition
is accelerating?"

I held my ground, but only just.  His face was mere centimeters from
my own, his eyes burned with fever.  "Yes, no, and yes."  I was
outwardly calm, but couldn't quite get the tremor out of my voice.  He
let go of my wrist and stepped away a little.  "I can alleviate some
of your symptoms, temporarily anyway.  Make you more comfortable."

"I don't want any of your drugs."

He turned away, resumed his pacing.  I was losing my patience. Is
there anything worse than an irrational Vulcan?

"How about a cold shower, then?  What exactly *do* you intend to do,
Spock?  Jump off the cliff?"

Surprised at my anger, he stopped to look at me.  Our eyes held for a
long time, and finally he looked away.  "No."  I could barely hear
him.  "No, I do not wish to die at all."

He sat wearily on a rock, elbows resting on his thighs, hands dangling
loosely between his knees.  I retrieved my scanner and sat down
opposite, practically knee-to-knee.

"May I?"

He waved a hand in weary capitulation, looking away while I ran the
scanner over him.

"Why don't I give you something for the fever, at least?  That might
help relieve some of the headache pain, and will help with
dehydration.  Are you taking in fluids at all?"

"No."

That explained his voice.

"I'll give you something to rehydrate you as well, but there's only so
much I can do if you're not drinking."

He sat still while I administered the hypospray.  Our location had me
at a disadvantage; I couldn't sneak in a sedative. The only way he was
coming down this hill was to walk.

We sat silently for a time, he with his arms held to himself as if he
were cold, one foot tapping nervously on the ground.  I tried to think
of how to talk to him without setting him off again.

"What do you plan to do, Spock?"  He didn't answer right away. Growing
impatient, I prompted again.  "*Enterprise* is weeks away."

"I know that!" he snapped.  Running a hand through his hair, he said
quietly, "I know."

He finally met my eyes.  It took everything I had to hold that gaze,
and do nothing else.  I'd never seen him look so unguarded.

"I thought I could overcome it, this time.  It is not unknown among
the Kolinahru."

"That must take complete mastery of the body."

"And of the mind.  We are a telepathic species; our needs are
different than yours.  The physical condition is complicated by the
psychic need to bond.  Through total mastery of their emotions, the
Kolinahru have overcome this need.  Many are able to survive the pon
farr on their own."

"But some don't."

Spock looked away and didn't answer.

"You strive so hard to be totally Vulcan - you pride yourself on it.
But in this, you want to be different, to avoid what is simply the
nature of your species."

"How would you like it, Christine, if you were compelled to marry; if
your very life depended on it, whether you wanted it or not.  Freedom
of choice is taken from me not by the customs of my people, but rather
by my own biology."

"You once told me, 'It would be illogical to protest against our
natures.'  And yet you do so yourself.  You knew this would happen. 
You've had the time to find a bondmate, this time one of your own
choosing."

"I chose mastery instead.  The ability to live independent of reliance
on another.  I failed."

"No man is an island, Spock.  No Vulcan is, either.  I don't know why
you think you have to be."

We were silent a long time.  I couldn't figure out what to say next. 
Everything I came up with sounded like a pass.  And besides, it wasn't
as if I was his only option.  There were six other women in the
landing party.  He surprised me by speaking first.

"Are you still in love with me?"

Now it was my turn to be embarrassed.  I looked away, thinking of how
I'd felt when I saw him again for the first time.  Be still, my heart. 
"Yes.  But it's different now.  I know you're not perfect . . . ."  I
stopped abruptly, realizing it was worse than ever.  I knew he wasn't
perfect, but I loved him anyway?  That was more mature than loving him
blindly, I guess, but probably more hopeless as well.

I turned on him, angry with myself, and him, and the universe in
general.  "I can't let you die, Spock.  I'm a doctor, and I'm not
going to let that happen if I can help it.  But I'm not the only woman
in this landing party.  I'm sure you can have your pick -"

"I do not want anyone else - "

"You don't want me, either.  Don't you understand?  I don't want you
any way I can get you.  *I* want it to be your choice, too."

He closed his eyes.  "Under the present circumstances, you are my
choice.  That is the best I can do." He took a deep breath and let it
out slowly before continuing, this time meeting my eyes.  "We have
known one another several years.  And we have shared consciousness
before.  That, at least, is not an unknown."

"So you're saying I'm a logical choice," I said, calmer now.

He raised an eyebrow, almost a shrug.  "Yes.  Is that so bad?"

"It's better than nothing.  In your mind, it's the best reason for
anything, so I suppose I should be flattered."

We fell silent again, until he cleared his throat.  "I . . . it will
be necessary  . . . you must bond with me, Christine."

Now I was speechless.  When I found my voice again, I said, "Spock,
you don't have to - "

"It is necessary to resolve the pon farr."

"No, it's not.  A meld is necessary.  A bond is the usual result, but
it's not necessary."  Vulcan had reluctantly made more information
available to Starfleet Medical.  I knew a lot more than McCoy had
known years before.

Spock was silent a long time.  "Perhaps . . . I mean that it is
necessary for me. I cannot imagine the experience with anything less
than a bondmate.  It is too personal."

"Spock, you don't have to bond with me to have my assurance that it
remains between you and me.  It's personal to me, too."

I felt a little sorry for him, but not enough to bind myself to him
for life; not under these circumstances.  If it had meant so much to
him, he should have done something about it long ago, when he still
had some choices.

"I do not understand.  You said you loved me."

"That's not enough.  I've given up everything for a man before, I'm
not doing it again.  You're feeling vulnerable now, and your desire to
bond is innate, but I'm not bonding with you just because I happen to
be in the right place at the right time.  Why don't you ask me
sometime when you're in your right mind?"

He was quiet for a long time and wouldn't look at me.  When he finally
spoke, I could barely hear him.  "It may be difficult for me to
maintain enough control to prevent a bond.  I have no experience . . .
I don't know if I can do it."  He closed his eyes tightly.  "The
desire to establish a bond is as strong as the desire to mate."

I felt awful.  I was asking him to maintain control, even in this.
"I'm willing to take the chance.  I know you'll do your best, Spock."

He just nodded in reply, wouldn't look at me.  Oh, god, what was I
getting myself in to?

---

We left Sulu in command of the team and took one of the shuttles,
supposedly to survey an isolated island in a large inland sea that
we'd observed on the way in.  We left while most of the team was
scattered over the area working, leaving Sulu to field questions about
why we'd gone alone.  We would not be very far away, but would be
totally isolated.

The island was actually the exposed portion of a large mountain rising
from the bottom of the sea.  Lush vegetation began at waters edge,
covering steep slopes.  We flew over twice before Spock found a rare
break in the treetops, revealing a reasonably level area on which to
land the shuttle.  As we descended, we left bright sunlight and
entered eternal twilight.

Spock secured the shuttlecraft, and we proceeded as if we really were
on a survey mission.  Actually, from the moment we'd decided on our
course of action, neither one of us had spoken of our real reason for
coming here.

As we exited the shuttle, we immediately saw that the forest canopy
concealed the island's true topography.  The mist-shrouded terrain was
more varied than it appeared from the air. We could hear running water
and started towards it with our field tricorders.  Little sunlight
reached the forest floor, and vegetation at ground level was
practically non-existent; foot travel was much easier than in the
brush-choked terrain at our base camp.

Fifty or so meters into the forest, a jagged facade blocked our way,
its top concealed by the treetops.  At the wall's base was the source
of the mists:  a large pool of water, warmed by hot springs, with icy
cold water cascading into it over the cliff face, snow melt from the
mountain's peak.

"Well, that's convenient," I said, noting the readout on my 'corder. 
The water was suitable for drinking and bathing.  I realized it was
too good a coincidence.  "You knew this was here."

Spock raised an eyebrow and flashed one of his non-smiles. "You were
complaining the other day about the lack of bathing facilities."

"It wasn't a complaint.  It was just a comment."  I smiled to myself. 
Maybe Spock had a romantic bent after all.  Or maybe he just wanted a
partner who didn't stink.  Sponge bathing could only be so effective.

We scouted the immediate area and carried a few liters of drinking
water to the shuttle.  Spock contacted Sulu and reported our position,
verifying we had a good comm link with the base camp.  He had almost
seemed himself since we'd made our decision.  Having a plan on which
to act had calmed him, I guess.  But when he ended the transmission
with Sulu, an unease settled over both of us.  The shuttle seemed too
small; neither of us knew what to do, or even where to look.  Before I
could think of anything to say, he stood suddenly and walked out.  I
moved to follow him, but he was disappearing rapidly into the forest. 
I started to call out to him, then thought better of it. He couldn't
go very far, and if necessary I'd track him later with the tricorder. 
If he needed some time alone, so be it.

I prepared a small dinner from standard rations and tried to enjoy it,
reminding myself I should eat while I had the opportunity.  My mind
kept wandering to Spock, and what was about to happen.  What *was*
about to happen?  I had a serious case of the jitters, and finally
admitted my own fear.

He startled me then by appearing at the forest's edge.  He stood
watching me silently, then fixed his eyes on the shuttle behind  me,
walking deliberately towards it.  He was wearing only his trousers,
clinging damply to his body.  Honestly, I don't know why he bothered. 
Water streamed from his hair down his face and neck, slicking the hair
on his chest and arms.

My food stuck in my throat, preventing me from making some inane
comment about forgetting our towels.  I sat frozen in place for
moments after he entered the shuttle behind me.   What now?  Forcing
myself to focus on a task, I cleaned up the remains of my meal, then
turned, almost without thought, into the forest.

At waters edge I began shedding my clothes.  Stepping into water that
was almost too hot, I made my way quickly to the icy cascade.  The
cold water brought all of my senses to heightened awareness, not
affecting the fire he had ignited inside me. Nipples, already tight
with arousal, hardened even more at the waters touch.  Warming myself
in the pool affected them not at all.  My entire body felt as if it
had been plugged in to some  electrical current.  I was tingling with
anticipation, a feeling that started between my thighs and spread
outward throughout my limbs.  Was this simple arousal, caused by the
mere sight of him?  Or was there something more at work; a Vulcan
pheromone effective on humans, or some telepathic current reaching
between us?

Whatever the cause, I couldn't stand to stay away from him any longer. 
Stepping from the pool, I brushed as much excess water from my skin as
I could, wrung my hair between my hands, tying it loosely at the nape
of my neck.  I pulled on my own pants and  the sleeveless undershirt I
wore under my tunic.  Leaving the rest of my things by the pool, as he
had, I made my way back to the shuttle.

He appeared to be asleep, but somehow I knew better.  I sat next to
him on the shuttle's floor, so that I was level with him on the low
bunk. After a time, he opened his eyes to look at me. When he reached
out to me, I expected him to reach for the meld points, but instead
his hands reached behind my head to unfasten my hair, spreading it
across my shoulders when it fell free.

"You are not on duty here, Christine.  I prefer it down."

That got to me; I never expected him to prefer anything at all.

I tried to still my trembling, but couldn't.  This close to him, this
intimate, pon farr or not, I couldn't control my natural reaction to
him any longer.  I wanted to reach out to him so badly, but waited,
determined that he make the first move.  When he did reach for me
again, he settled his hands gently on my face in the meld position. 
Such a feeling of relief washed over him at the mental contact, but it
was still no match for the desire raging within him.  I moved to join
him on his bunk, but he pushed me to the floor without warning.  My
head struck the floor, hard. Fighting a wave of nausea, I opened my
mouth to protest. Instead, my breath escaped in a wordless gasp when
he fell across me, pinning me to the floor.  Needless to say, my
initial arousal and desire for him faded quickly.

That was how it began, and it only got worse from there.  Pon farr has
nothing to do with making love.  It's sex at it's most basic,
instinctive level.  The mind meld adds a component of intimacy, but
even that is driven by instinct.  The experience was none of the
things I'd ever fantasized.  Day after day, he clung to me
desperately.  Even when he slept, it was difficult to get away from
him for a few minutes of privacy.  In a fair amount of pain and tired
beyond belief, I reminded myself again and again that I had consented; 
reminded myself, that without me, he would die.  But I grew to hate
his touch, the sound of him, the feel of him waking next to me so that
we could begin again.

On the seventh day I finally woke up alone, without even the whisper
of his mind in mine.  Solitude had never felt so good.  I stretched
sore muscles, left the shuttle, thinking only of a long, hot bath. 
Spock was nowhere in sight; I was too relieved to worry about him.

I soaked in the pool until darkness forced me out, reluctant to leave
the hot water that soothed bruises and abrasions, the icy cascade that
cleared the fogginess from my head.  I dressed reluctantly and walked
back to the shuttle, found Spock there preparing a meal.  Stopping at
the edge of the clearing, we  regarded one another warily.  Without a
doubt, he was seeing right through me, as he always had; knew what I
was feeling, despite my best efforts to conceal.  I tried to push
aside the distaste at the sight of him, the anger, and forced a smile.

"Hi."

My voice sounded strange to my own ears.  We'd hardly spoken in days.
I forced myself to step closer, though I really wanted to be alone.

"Would you like something to eat?" he asked uncertainly.  "I have
prepared enough for two."

At this point, even standard rations looked and smelled delicious.  He
had added some native fruit, duplicating one of Sulu's tastier
concoctions.

"Sure," I said, trying to push aside my anger, telling myself it was
inappropriate.

We were quiet over our meal.  When I finished, I set aside my plate,
opened my mouth to ask about leaving the next day, but he spoke before
me.

"I have started an extensive survey of the island, beginning with the
immediate area.  With the aid of the shuttle, we should be able to
complete our survey in five days."

"Five days?"  I had expected - counted on - leaving immediately, if
not sooner.

"We have supposedly been conducting a survey.  It would not do to
return without data."

"Oh.  I guess you're right."  I drew a deep, not quiet steady breath. 
"I don't suppose I can show up in this condition, anyway."

He looked away, stung by my words.  My bruised arms and swollen lip
were evidence enough of what the last several days  had been like for
me, without my pointing it out.

"I am sorry."  He was barely whispering, not looking at me.  "If I
could have prevented it - "

"Don't worry about it," I said, feeling sorry for him, while,
perversely, enjoying his pain.  Feeling anything else was beyond me.

I went into the shuttle and fell immediately to sleep, too tired to
stew over it.  When I woke at daybreak, he wasn't there, and I
suspected he'd spent the night outside, perhaps working throughout. 
Over the next several days, we spoke enough to coordinate our survey
efforts, but other than that we worked apart, each preferring to be
alone with our particular pain and anger.  Each night, I had the
shuttle to myself.  It was cold out after dark, and I should've
insisted he come inside.  I knew in my heart that I was at least
partly responsible; by rejecting the bond, I'd set us up for a bad
time.  Not establishing a bond during pon farr was completely against
his Vulcan nature, and I had been aware throughout that it caused him
a considerable amount of pain.  I had saved his life, but had not
satisfied his real need. The thing is, even bonded, I'm not convinced
I would have.  It was never me he wanted.

I noticed, in our logs, we were both referring to our island as
Purgatory.  I honestly could never figure out who used it first.

---

We had been on the island twelve days when we finally completed our
survey efforts, arriving back at our camp site late in the afternoon. 
I don't know why we didn't return to the base immediately; instead, we
sat down together over dinner for the first time in days, our
enthusiasm for our work having got the better of both of us.

"Our efforts here have been worthwhile," Spock said in conclusion,
noting that much of the flora here appeared useful for medicinal
purposes.  Isolated as it was, the island was home to several species
of plants not found elsewhere on the planet. "At least the trip was
not a complete waste of time."

"Spock," I said, suddenly exasperated with him, "it wasn't a waste of
time in any case.  Do you really believe I could think it was?"

"I believe that you regret what has happened."

"I don't - how can I regret saving your life?"  The conversation was
deteriorating rapidly; I should have left well enough alone.

"Perhaps 'regret' is the wrong term.  Your resentment is palpable."

I was growing angrier by the minute.  "How do you expect me to feel
about it?  Happy to have whatever crumbs you're willing to give?  The
fact is, you're able to live your life unbonded, without fear of
death, because you know you've got a fallback.  You know I'd never let
you die, and you don't even have to make a commitment - "

Now he was angry, not bothering to suppress it.  "I offered you a 
commitment.  You rejected it.  I will not bear sole responsibility if
the experience was more difficult than it might otherwise have been."

I was close to tears.  I couldn't believe that after what I'd been
through for him, he would say these things to me - blame me for all
the pain we'd both experienced.  I aimed to cut deep, to hurt him as
much as he was hurting me.

"Actually, it was the worst experience of my life."

His features went to ice, evidence of how strongly my words stung.

"I am not to blame if your fantasies left you with unreasonable
expectations."

I slapped him.

The moment it happened, I was horrified; but it also felt good. Shock
replaced his anger, and my own.   I realized I was about to cry, and
turned away into the forest before he could see.  I ran as fast as I
could, hoped he wasn't following.

I stopped at the pool and found myself quite alone.  Stripping numbly,
I stepped carefully into the warm water, hoping to wash away a days
worth of grime and a weeks worth of hurt, though my earlier attempts
at the latter had been unsuccessful. Immersed in the pool, surrounded
by it's warmth, the splash of the falls, the obscuring mists, I could
remain unaware of the world beyond the pool's boundaries.   When
darkness fell, I stayed, not caring what nocturnal creatures might
appear.

When I was too hot to tolerate the water any longer, I went to stand
under the cold cascade, turning my face up into it so that it stole my
breath.   I remained there until goose bumps rose on my flesh,
thinking of making myself as cold as possible before settling into the
heated water again.

I was startled into outer awareness when warm hands fell on my hips. 
My gasp was lost in the fall's cacophony; he steadied my body against
his until my surprise had passed.  When I turned to face him, he
pulled me tightly against him again, pinning his erection between us. 
How long had he been watching?

Opening my mouth to speak, my lips were covered with his before I
could say anything.  He kissed me . . . the way I'd always dreamed he
would kiss me.  My mind had been an open book to him during pon farr,
and now he used his knowledge of what I wanted and made love to me the
way I'd always imagined he would.   We spent the entire night by the
water, dozing off and on, slipping into the pool's warmth whenever we
were cold. He played the scene so close to my dreams that I wondered
if I *was* dreaming - except the part at the end, where he was
supposed to tell me he loved me.  We didn't speak a word of
conversation the entire night.

When I finally awoke to early morning light, he was dressing by the
pool.  I was covered with a blanket that he must have brought from the
shuttle.  He turned to look at me when he was dressed.  Wrapping the
blanket tightly about myself, I sat up and met his gaze.  I opened my
mouth to speak, but something in his eyes gave me pause.

I watched his back as he walked away from me, and thought I
understood.  He needed to prove he was more than an animal in rut -
not so much to me, I think, but to himself.  And for myself - well, I
guess it was my consolation prize, my reward for what I'd been through
with him.

I sat alone by the pool for a long time, reluctant to wash away the
scent and the feel of our love-making.  I stayed there until I thought
it was imprinted in my mind, wanting to be certain the reality of it
replaced what had always been fantasy.  When I finally stepped into
the water to bathe, I spent a long time under the icy cascade, letting
the cold water shock my body back into the real world.

We didn't speak at all during the short flight back to our base camp,
though there was no tension between us.  Somewhere along the way, it
was as if we passed an invisible barrier between one universe and
another; when we stepped off the shuttle, we were once again Doctor
Chapel and Commander Spock.

---

Nyota is looking at me in stunned silence, her untouched wine
forgotten in her hand.  This wasn't what she had expected to hear.  A
one night stand perhaps, or a secret long term relationship, but not
quite this experience.

"Christine . . . what happened next?  When you got back to
*Enterprise?*"

"We went on with our lives.  This was just two or three months before
I left *Enterprise* to join *Scorpion* as CMO."  Scorpion was a
deep-space vessel.  I'd only recently returned from that posting to
take the CMO spot at Starfleet Headquarters.

"Had you seen Spock since you got back to Earth?"

"A few times.  Since he was posted at the Academy, our paths sometimes
crossed lately."

"So, do you know . . . did he ever find a bondmate before he died, I
wonder?"  She's speaking to herself as much as to me.

The silent newscast has caught my attention, the scene in the reactor
room replaying yet again.  I watch Spock sink to the floor, the
Admiral following; reaching out to one another.  Unable to touch.  Her
gaze follows mine.

"Did he?" she asks, fighting back tears.

"I don't know," I whisper, eyes fixed on the screen.  "He never told
me."

---

The End