Epilogue

(Set during "Turnabout Intruder")

"Am I intruding?"

Spock turned at the sound of Christine's gentle voice. He removed his hands from the bulkhead, which had supported him during a series of stretching exercises, and clasped them behind his back. He moved closer to the forcefield that kept him prisoner in the small brig cell.

"You are not disturbing me in the least, Christine." He noted how luminous her blue eyes were, no doubt from the copious tears on her face. /I cannot dry them this time,/ he thought. Then Spock noticed something else. Gone was the nurse's sunny blonde hair. Now she sported tresses of a warm brown. Christine noted Spock's gaze and drew a hand self-conciously to her head.

"Pool chemicals turned it a rather ugly shade of green," she explained with a bashful smile. "This was the only color that would cover it up." Christine looked up shyly. "Do you like it?"

"It is different," Spock noted.

"You hate it!" Spock shook his head.

"I neither like nor dislike it, Christine," he countered. "It simply is." Spock cocked his head to the side. "It is esthetically pleasing," he admitted at last. Christine started to smile, but then began to cry again. "What is it, my friend?" Spock asked softly. The nurse's head snapped up.

"Do you even have to ask?" she said incredulously. "My best friend is fighting for his life, and I can't do a thing to help him!" Christine dragged her hands angrily across her eyes. "Medically, there's nothing wrong with the captain," she hissed, "so why is he acting like such a maniac?"

Spock drew as close to the forcefield as he dared. He could feel the crackle of electricity raising the small hairs on his body.

"Breathe, Christine," Spock said in a soft but insistent voice. "Breathe. Like I showed you. One breath in slowly for calm," he ordered gently, watching as she obeyed. "Another for peace." Christine's shoulders lifted again. "A third for serenity." She kept her eyes closed as Spock continued his instructions. "We will get through this insanity only if we remain at peace. Negative thoughts and wishful thinking are a waste of time and energy." Christine opened her eyes and looked at Spock woefully.

"I want to help you," she cried, "but I don't know what to do!" Spock sighed, frustrated that he could neither wipe away her tears nor ease her fears.

"But you _are_ helping, Christine," he murmured. She looked at him skeptically.

"How?" she demanded. He gave Christine that special, gentle look he reserved for her alone.

"You are here," he breathed. "As always, you are standing with me through a most difficult time. I didn't have to ask you to come because you came on your own volition." Christine sniffed and gave him a small smile.

"But I want to do more," she whispered. Spock nodded.

"There is something you can do for me, Christine." She face brightened.

"Anything!" Spock lowered his gaze as he felt his control slipping.

"Sit by me," he whispered at last.

"What?" He raised his eyes to her.

"Sit by me, Christine, at the trial. There is ample room."

"Of course," she breathed. "Is that all?" Spock shook his head.

"If this trial ... If he should succeed in executing me, I will need something important from you," he said in a small voice. "I would need you near me so I could transfer my katra to you before I ... die." Christine was confused.

"Your what?"

"My katra. You would call it my soul. I would need to touch you before ... the end. You would then have to bring it home for me." Christine started to cry again. They could hear the security guards coming down the hall. "Will you do it for me?" Spock asked urgently.

"Yes," she breathed. Spock closed his eyes to hide his gratitude. He took a deep breath to settle himself before the guards arrived. Wordlessly, the guards withdrew their phasers and lowered the forcefield. Spock threw one last look over his shoulder as they led him away. "Sit with me," he mouthed silently to the nurse. She nodded

Christine repeated the breathing exercise, dried her face and composed herself before heading to the conference room.

"Am I intruding?"

Christine turned at the sound of Spock's gentle voice. The nurse smiled at his echo of her words of only a few hours earlier. She laid down her stylus, withdrew a disc from her padd, popped it into the outlet on her desk, and pushed a button before giving Spock her full attention.

"You _never_ intrude," Christine replied. She moved closer to Spock, bubbling with happiness now the insanity of the trial was behind him. "I'm _so_ glad everything turned out alright." Spock gazed about the room conspiratorially.

"So am I," he whispered. Christine giggled, then sobered.

"That was damn close," she hissed. Spock nodded.

"Indeed," he said quietly. After a moment, Spock withdrew his hands from behind his back and handed Christine a message tape. She gave him a puzzled look as she took it. "It is your reply from Starfleet Medical." Christine frowned.

"Why wasn't it on my regular ... " Christine realized that Spock hadn't released his grip on the tape yet.

"I wanted to be the one to bring it to you," he said, slightly chagrinned at being caught dipping into her mail. Christine released the disk and stepped back.

"You read it," she said in a flat voice. "I didn't make it." Spock took Christine's hand and placed the disk firmly in her palm.

"I have not seen it. I merely wanted to stand with you as you read it."

Christine flipped the disk idly around a few times before sitting again at her desk. She removed the other disk that had transferred her daily report to the main computer and inserted the new one. She hardly noticed that Spock had circled to the other side of the desk in order to give her privacy as she read the message from Starfleet Medical. He saw the nurse's eyes flash like twin phasers on overload. /She was not accepted,/ he thought.

Suddenly, Christine grabbed two handfuls of color coded disks and flung them in the air. /She is furious,/ he thought, /and rightly so. What could they be thinking?/

"Yippee!" Christine screeched as the disks rained down around her. She jumped from her seat, and before Spock had a chance to react, she grabbed him by the arms and whirled him around.

McCoy came running into the nurse's office and stopped short as he watched Christine fling Spock around in a happy dance.

"What in blue blazes is going on in here?" he bellowed.

"I was accepted to medical school!" Christine shrieked. She grabbed McCoy and pulled him into round two of the happy dance. Spock backed away quickly.

"Wait a minute! WAIT A MINUTE!" McCoy hollered, which made Spock wince. Christine stopped dancing, but nothing could halt the stupid, sloppy grin covering her face.

"And not only that, with my transcripts and with my years of nursing, they are accepting me into the accelerated program. I'll be an MD in two years." Christine pulled McCoy into a fierce embrace, one that he obligingly returned briefly.

"When do you start?" he asked. "What do your orders read?" Christine knocked several of the tapes aside with her foot so she could get back to her desk. Her mouth dropped not once but twice as she finished reading.

"I report in two weeks!" she squeaked. "The term has already started! I'll be a month behind the others!"

Spock pushed himself away from the bulkhead now that there was little danger of him being dragged into another round of dancing.

"Perhaps if they provide the curriculum, you begin covering the missed material." Christine looked at Spock with exasperation.

"Oh, sure," she said with hands on hips. "I can study in between packing and saying goodbye, not to mention working my shifts and preparing my end report before a new head nurse takes over." Spock handed her a stack of disks he had rescued from the floor.

"I will help you pack," he said.

"I'll help you study, Chris," McCoy stated.

Christine held both men with her eyes. How can one girl be so lucky?

Half-filled boxes and cases littered Christine's cabin. Spock carefully wrapped the breakables Christine had collected from the various planets and ports of call she had visited during her stay on the Enterprise. He came upon one familiar item. It was a beautiful intricately carved bowl with a tight-fitting lid—a Vulcan Burial urn. Spock knew that it held the remains of their daughter, the precious girl they had been forced to conceive on Platonius.

Spock sat heavily in the nearest chair, clutching the little urn to his chest. This little girl who had drawn only one feeble breath had cemented a most interesting relationship between Spock and a most fascinating woman. Never denying that they were male and female, they were intimate, yet not physical. They had entered into a bond of friendship, nothing more.

Yet.

Christine had said to him that if his Time were to catch him unprepared again, she would be quite willing to "lend a hand." /Odd choice of words,/ Spock thought.

He had considered moving beyond friendship in their relationship when Christine had started talking about medical school. Knowing how bright and truly caring she was, Spock thought that she would make a fine physician. But knowing that medical school would take several years, /Most likely past my next Time,/ Spock knew that beginning a relationship with her now would not be in Christine's best interest.

Then there was this matter with the mission coming to an end. Dark thoughts clouded Spock's face as he thought of Kirk's message to him. *"I'm being promoted to Admiral, Spock, and I submitted you for promotion to Captain. The Enterprise is yours for the taking."*

/I have never wanted command. I have never pursued a command of my own. I only took the job as First Office with the stipulation that I remain as Science Officer. This is not my destiny, and he knows that, just as being without his own ship to command is not _his_ best destiny. He is forcing me to take this promotion, and I do not want it./

Christine found a brooding Vulcan sitting in her cabin. Seeing what was in his hands brought sad tears to her eyes. Spock didn't even acknowledge Christine's presence until she placed a hand over his.

"We were hoping to take her home together," she murmured as she caressed the urn. "Now there is no time ..." Christine's voice trailed off as she observed Spock's demeanor. "What's wrong, my friend? What are you thinking about?" Spock let his breath out in a puff.

"I am thinking of many things," he said, his voice flat, ominous. He rubbed the urn gently before setting it reverently aside. Spock turned to Christine, not quite meeting her eyes. "May we talk?"

"Certainly," crooned. "Can I get you anything, Spock? Some tea or ...?" Spock shook his head. Christine closed the lid of her trunk and sat on it, pulling one of Spock's hands to herself. "Tell me what troubles you." He covered her hands with his own and took a deep breath.

"The captain has been promoted to admiral," he said softly. Christine shook her head,

"Isn't that good news for him?" she asked, puzzled. Spock shook his head.

"No," he fumed. "His best destiny is commanding a starship, not riding a desk. He knows that. The position does not suit his talents. It is a colossal mistake for him to accept it." Christine studied the Vulcan for a moment.

"That's not all that's bothering you, is it," she stated. Again, Spock shook his head.

"He ... he has promoted me to Captain of the Enterprise." It wasn't blatant, but Christine knew Spock well enough to see and hear the disgust behind that statement.

"You never wanted a command," she said gently, "and he knows _that,_ too. That's what's eating at you. Jim Kirk is forcing you to do something you know not to be in your best interests—again."

"Yes," Spock breathed, lowering his head. He had to do the breathing exercises once more to regain his composure. "Christine," he stated at last, "do you remember our past conversation when we discussed our future plans?" The nurse nodded.

"You mentioned then that you were thinking of going home," she said, clasping his hand more tightly. "You had just come back from that mission to Exo III, the one you said was so difficult. You never told me any more about that. What made the mission so hard? What happened?" Spock kept his head down as he thought. Finally he lifted his bleak gaze to her.

"The particulars do not matter, Christine," he said at last. "The mission just brought home how much I have lost of myself. I had to act contrary to my Vulcan training yet again. My composure and control have been affected as well." Spock heaved a great sigh. "I had planned to take a leave during the refit to go home and re-center, but now that I do not have the position I desire, I find that there is no reason for me to return." Christine squeezed Spock's hands. He squared his shoulders and gently withdrew his hands. "I have been accepted to the monastery at Gol."

The shock of Spock's statement caused Christine to fall back into the chair.

"Kolinahr?" she breathed. "You want to pour out your feelings on the sands of Vulcan forever?" Spock clasped his hands in his lap.

"Master. I need to master my passions, because they threaten to overwhelm me." Christine frowned. "It is for the best, my friend, for _me_. It is not a decision that I make lightly. I have considered this for the better part of a year." Christine's mouth worked a couple of times before she was able to speak.

"But I'll never see you again," she whispered.

"Perhaps, perhaps not," he replied. "As my mother would say, 'Never say never.'" Spock cocked a brow and turned his head to one side. "That is an odd saying, is it not?" Christiine clasped her hands in her lap, unconsciously mimicking Spock's pose.

"I had hoped to correspond with you while I was away," she said in a small voice. Spock turned a warm gaze on her. "How can I go through this without you?" Spock reached for her hands.

"Neither of us will ever be without the other," he said, stroking the backs of her hands with his thumbs. "Our daughter has seen to that. We will always be part of each other's life." Spock paused as his voice faltered. "It's just that, I am not at peace. I have lost my path, and I think this is the right step for me to take on my journey." He squeezed her hands. "Just as your step is the right one for _your_ journey." Spock brought Christine's hands to his brow briefly. "Besides, you will be much too busy to correspond." Christine's chin began to quiver.

"I would have made time for you," she whispered. Spock pulled the nurse to her feet.

"Tell my parents how you are doing," he said gently. "They greatly admire you and they will be very interested in hearing from you." Christine's face brightened.

"Could they get messages to you?" Hope began to die in her eyes as she saw Spock's guarded look.

"Perhaps." Spock moved to continue packing for Christine.

"Does anyone else know?" she asked at last. Spock shook his head.

"I don't want to waste the captain's valuable time trying to convince me to stay. He will try, but he will not be successful." Christine tossed an embroidered pillow at Spock.

"You're a stubborn cuss!" she teased. Spock retrieved the pillow and packed it away.

"Christine, you have met both of my parents. You know that I come by it honestly!"

Med student Chapel logged on to retrieve her messages. The postmaster sent her notice of a package held for her at the dorm office. Curious she hurried down to the front desk to claim what turned out to be a small packet. Inside she found a photo and a handwritten note.

/My friend Christine,

/Peace and prosperity.

/One exercise that Kolinahr postulants must complete before moving to the next stage is to take their leave of each person who has been part of the student's life.

/I am sending you this note to tell you how grateful I am for your part in my life. I remember each time I woke up in Sickbay to find you tending my injuries and illnesses so completely and with such devotion. A soon as I saw you, I knew that I would recover.

/I remember you caring for me so completely during my Time, even when I treated you so cruelly.

/I remember your profound bravery and generosity when Parmen forced us together, resulting in the conception of our cherished daughter, and your intense grief when she was lost to us.

/I will always remember our friendship. It was a cherished gift and a bright spot in a difficult time for me.

/I wish you peace, my friend, and much success as a doctor. You will be a fine physician. Your patients will have nothing to fear.

/Enclosed is a photo of the final resting place of our daughter. The wall you see in the background is our family shrine. On it is listed all of the names of our deceased. In the far right column you will see written in Roman letters the name I heard you call our child while she grew within you—"Missy." We did not have the time to discuss names earlier, so I hope you are not offended by my choice. In the foreground you will see a fire pit, with the open container that held Missy's ashes. It is our custom to commingle our deceased one's remains. This signifies that those who were together in this life continue to be together in the second life. Our Missy is now in the arms of her Vulcan forebears. They will hold her for us until it is our time to join her.

/As promised, I have left instructions that you should be given access to the gravesite whenever you wish. Tell them that you are Christine aduna Spock, and the caretakers will take you directly to the site. No one but family is permitted into the ancestral shrines, so I listed you as my wife. Again, forgive my presumption.

/I wish you well, my friend. Please know that I am well and that I am on the road to peace.

/Mene sakkhet ur-sevah!

/Your friend,

/Spock

Christine clutched the note to her chest as she fought back tears. It was on the third inhalation of the breathing exercise when it finally hit her.

_Aduna?_

The End