PART 2—A TIME OF HEALING

McCoy walked into Sickbay early. He wanted to check on Spock before breakfast, hoping that the Vulcan was finally able to get some sleep.

To say McCoy was surprised at what he found in the ward would be a galactic understatement.

Christine was in one of the diagnostic beds, curled tightly on her side and fast asleep.

Spock was in the next bed, sleeping soundly, thanks to the sleep inducer he was sporting on his forehead. Taking a reading, McCoy noted that Spock was no longer plagued by the kironide and it's terrible effects on his system. The doctor dialed down the sleep inducer so that Spock could waken more naturally.

McCoy turned back to Christine. He really should write her up for sleeping while on duty, but he didn't have the heart. The poor girl should have taken time off to recuperate from her ordeal on Platonius, but she decided to immerse herself in work instead. /Sounds like half the crew/, McCoy thought. /Be honest, Leonard! It's something you would do!/

McCoy left to pick up his breakfast from the Rec Room to bring back to his office.

The sound of the doors to Sickbay closing wakened Spock. No, it was another sound that wakened him, a sound in his head, one that resonated in his soul.

Tears.

Sobbing.

Spock looked over to the next bed and saw Nurse Chapel curled into a tight ball. She had been so good to him while he was recovering from the kironide reaction. What could be troubling her so?

Spock eased out of bed and moved to her side.

"Nurse Chapel?" he called softly. No answer. He tried again. "Christine?"

Christine mumbled something incoherent. She was asleep, Spock realized, having a nightmare, it seemed. It would be unethical for him to ease into her mind uninvited, but was it logical for him to let her suffer?

Spock also realized that Christine had worked extra hours. His drug-addled mind was still aware of her presence these past three days. She had been injured when the Platonians forced them together, Spock was sure of it. He was also sure that Christine had not taken any time off to heal, her body OR her spirit.

Christine's sobs and mumbles were becoming louder. Spock decided that awakening her would be in her best interest. He caressed her head gently.

"Christine!" he whispered.

Christine awakened with a gasp. She cowered from Spock, not knowing at first who he was or where she was. Spock reached out and tenderly wiped away her tears. At one glance at the compassion in the Vulcan's eyes, Christine launched herself at Spock. He caught her easily and enfolded her in his arms.

"Were you dreaming of Platonius?" he asked into her hair. "Was it happening again?"

Christine trembled violently and finally answered by nodding her head. Spock responded by holding her more closely.

"I couldn't stop them from hurting you," Spock said in a small voice. "I wasn't strong enough."

Christine stopped trembling and pulled away from Spock, enough to look into his eyes.

"Do you still think I blame you?" she said in astonishment.

"You should," he answered. "I do." Christine reached up and caressed Spock's cheek.

"Oh, don't!" she breathed. "Don't blame yourself. They were just too strong."

Spock turned his head away, but Christine took him by the chin and gently turned his face back to her.

"Remember what I told you this morning?" she said tenderly. "I said, 'You don't blame the stick for beating you.'" Spock heaved a great sigh and looked up at Christine, a small twinkle in his eye.

"You didn't say that," he replied.

"Yes, I did," she answered, wondering if Spock was having a relapse.

"No, you didn't" Spock insisted, "not exactly."

"Well, what did I say, then, exactly?" she asked, indignant

"You said, 'You don't blame the stick that you were beat with,'" Spock answered smugly. Christine hauled back and playfully punched Spock on the arm. Spock put a hand to his offended arm.

"Striking a superior officer is a court-martial offense," he announced. Christine put her wrists forward as if to be handcuffed.

"Go ahead and court-martial me," she teased. "I'll say it was in self-defense from a smart-assed Vulcan." Both of Spock's eyebrows shot up as Christine burst into a fit of giggles.

Spock took Christine's hands and was truly serious.

"Christine," he began. "We need to talk." Spock looked deeply into her eyes. "How badly did I..." He began again. "How badly were you hurt? Tell me the whole truth."

Christine took a deep breath.

"There was bruising and tearing of vaginal tissue," she murmured. "It took less than twenty minutes to repair." Christine fell silent.

"What else?" Spock coaxed.

"Physically, that's it," she continued. Spock caressed the side of her blush-stained face.

"And psychologically?" he asked softly. Christine's lower lip began to tremble.

"I've never been raped before," she whispered. Her simple statement resonated through Spock.

"I've never been raped before, either," Spock rasped.

"I've never felt so helpless."

"They were manipulating me. I couldn't move except in the way they wanted."

"I was never so frightened."

"I was never so angry." Spock pounded his fist on the mattress. "So angry, angry, angry, ANGRY!" Christine pulled back from him in fright.

Spock hung his head and drew three deep breaths to calm himself.

"Forgive my display," he murmured. "I have yet to master these emotions. They still have a grip on me." He pulled dignity around him like a cloak. "I have to remember that the Platonians can do me no harm. They will not be permitted to leave their planet. They are powerless over us. They can no longer hurt or humiliate us ever again."

Christine looked at Spock warily.

"Who are you trying to convince?" she asked. "Me or you?"

Spock took some of her downy thistle hair between his fingers as he thought.

"It would behoove us both to repeat this to ourselves frequently," Spock responded.

Christine thought a moment, then punched Spock's arm again.

"What was that for?" he demanded.

"Who says 'behoove' anymore?" she asked.

"'Behoove is a perfectly acceptable word," Spock responded. "Many of my mother's books from Earth used the word."

"You're mother collects rare old books," Christine retorted. "How old were the books you read?" Spock hung his head, chagrinned.

"Old enough," he replied. Spock waved a hand in the air, signifying a change of subjects. "Christine," he began. "We need to refresh our spirits. We need to finish healing."

"What do you suggest?" Christine asked. "Shore leave?"

"We are not scheduled for R and R for two months," Spock replied. He thought a moment.

"When I lived on Vulcan, I used to climb the mountains outside our city."

"What does that have to do with..."Christine interrupted.

"I would climb these mountains whenever I was upset and felt that I was losing mastery over my emotions," Spock continued. "I found that pouring out my emotions on the mountains to be a more efficient way of controlling them. I would climb to the very top and scream out my frustrations until I passed out from exhaustion. When I awoke, I meditated until I was calm enough to return home. I used the beauty of dawn on the mountain to heal me and give me strength."

Christine considered what Spock revealed to her.

"So," she deduced, "you want to go mountain climbing on our next shore leave?" Spock shook his head, barely suppressing a smile.

"No," he replied. "No, our next shore leave is too far away. We'll have to find somewhere close by, someplace suitable." Spock studied Christine a long moment.

"What?" she asked, uncomfortable under Spock's scrutiny.

"When was the last time you went EV?" he asked.

Christine shuddered. The worst part of her Starfleet training was doing extra-vehicular activities. The thought that only a few layers of spacesuit stood between her and the cold, harsh vacuum of space frightened her. She looked for an excuse to change Spock's mind.

"Screaming inside our helmets could damage our hearing," she said. Spock permitted himself a small smile.

"We can use earplugs."

"We'll fog up our faceplates."

"The suit's systems can compensate."

"What if our suits tear on the way out?"

"I will check them myself."

"I don't want to go."

"Why?"

"I'm afraid."

Spock took Christine's shoulders in his hands.

"I will be with you the whole time, Christine," he assured her. "I will not let anything happen to you."

Christine was still apprehensive. Spock quickly ran through the small number of star systems and stellar phenomena near their present location. "Slim pickin's," Spock's mother would say. Suddenly, it came to him.

"Give me a few hours to prepare everything," he said slipping off the bed.

"We're doing this today?" Christine asked incredulously.

"Yes," Spock nodded. "We are already in the perfect place." Spock squeezed Christine's hands. "I'll will notify you when everything is ready."

As promised, three hours later, Spock met Christine at the fore airlock. Both wore the silver EVA suits and carried their helmets under their arms.

Spock noticed a look of trepidation on Christine's face.

"I double checked the suits, the helmets, and the thrusters, as I promised," Spock reassured her. Christine smiled weakly in response.

"I don't suppose we could just go to the observation deck," she asked. Spock shook his head and leaned close.

"Remember," he whispered, "no one can hear you scream in space."

Christine watched as Spock stuffed his ears with plugs, pulled on and locked his gloves, and settled his helmet into place. The nurse sighed and did the same. They double-checked the closures on each other's EVA suits.

Spock opened the airlock door, took Christine's gloved hand in his and stepped into the hatch. Soon, the outer hatch opened to space. Spock had chosen to exit the ship at the forward edge of the saucer section.

Christine gasped at the sight before them.

A glowing ball of green gas was before them. Christine had never heard of a green star before and wondered if she was seeing things.

"I took the liberty to program a filter into the helmets," Spock explained through their communicators. Christine had to rely on reading Spock's lips due to the earplugs she wore.

"It's certainly different," she observed, "and very beautiful." Spock nodded.

Spock helped Christine to attach her magnetic boots to the skin of the ship. Then he took a long length of cable out of a cargo pocket and attached one end to the front of his suit.

"I am going to go out about 100 meters," Spock told Christine as he attached the other end of the tether to her suit, "to do what I need to do. I will have my communicator turned off, but if you need me, just pull on the tether. Will you be all right?"

Christine touched the cable that joined them with her gloved hand. She nodded. Spock used the thrusters in his suit to float away from the ship and the woman sitting on its prow.

Christine knew that she should not be watching Spock, that she should give him his privacy, but Spock was a sight to behold. There at the end of the umbilicus that united them, Spock's silver clad form moved gracefully through space, his movements as fluid as a seal through the ocean.

Christine knew when his "pouring out" ritual began because his movements took on new purpose. Spock's arms first reached out to the green-burning sun then flung wide open. He pulled imaginary strings from his body, rolled them together and flung them at the sun. His body curled in tightly then aced out in all directions.

Spock was screaming.

Christine couldn't hear him, but she knew through his body language that Spock was screaming as he danced at the end of the tether.

Hot tears sprang to Christine's eyes and fogged the inside of her helmet. She could feel the vibration of the EVA suit's environmental controls as it worked to compensate for the extra moisture.

"It isn't fair!" Christine screamed as she watched Spock. "He is such a gentle soul. Look what you have done to him! To us!" Parmen's face floated before her mind's eye. "We did nothing to you, and you raped us! You used us! You took away what could be possible between us and you perverted it! I'll never have him now, never!"

As Christine flung her arms out in anger, flailing at the sun that wore Parmen's face, she inadvertently tugged on the cable line that was stretched tight between herself and Spock. Within seconds, Spock was at her side.

Christine jumped at the sudden contact as Spock held her in her arms.

"What's wrong?" he said worriedly over the communicator. Christine was sobbing, trying to get a proper hold around Spock through the bulky suits.

"He took it away!" she sobbed. "He took it all away!"

"What did he take away, Christine?" Spock asked in confusion.

"Us!" Christine moaned. "There'll never be an us. This—he will always be between us. He took away our power, our control, our freedom, our choice, our future!" Christine turned back to the star. "I want it back!" she screamed. "I want it all back!"

Spock didn't know what to say. Innocence. In a way, Parmen had taken their innocence. Spock knew that innocence could never be regained, and he should say Kaiidth, but, damn it, he wanted his innocence back, too. Parmen and his ilk had take so much from all of them. And there was no way to get it back.

Spock was spent, and, as Christine's sobs quieted, he presumed that she was nearing the point of no real answers as well. Spock turned Christine's face toward himself and tried to look into her eyes.

"Are you finished?" he asked gently. Christine shrugged.

"Are you?" she countered.

"I don't know if we'll ever be finished with this," Spock responded, "but I think the worst is passed. I know that when I start to think rationally again, I am ready for a time of healing. Will you join me in a period of meditation?" Christine nodded.

Spock turned them both to look at the star.

"When we came out here," he began in a gentle voice, "the star signified the negative emotions burning inside of us. Look as the anger is burned away, the powerlessness. The star is our symbol of healing now. It is burning away all that is negative, painful, hurtful. It is filling us with its strength. Looking back is pain. Looking forward is freedom. Parmen will always be part of our lives, but he is in the past. He can no longer hurt us. He no longer controls us. He has no power over us. Let the star empower us. We are strong. We will go on."

Spock's voice trailed off as Christine continued to look at the star in all of its emerald beauty. She stared at the star through the helmet's faceplate, glad that Spock had selected this filter. Otherwise, they'd both be blind by now! /Ah,/ she thought, /rational, mundane thoughts. I must be done meditating./

Christine turned to look at Spock. He was studying her intently.

"That didn't sound very Vulcan," Christine observed at last.

"It wasn't," Spock admitted. "It was my own invention. I needed some sort of defense mechanism as a child, so I developed this."

"You must have gotten into some of your mother's antique psychology books," Christine responded. "That was definitely 'guided imagery.'"

"A useful tool," Spock concluded. He sighed heavily. "Are you ready to go back inside?" It was Christine's turn to sigh.

"Not just yet," she begged. "Five minutes more." Spock pulled his knees up and circled them with his arms as he sat next to Christine on the surface of the ship. Christine glanced at Spock curiously. "How did you arrange all this so quickly?" she asked. Spock flicked an eyebrow.

"With Mr. Scott's assistance," Spock replied mysteriously. Christine looked over at Spock awaiting an explanation. "He told the captain that he absolutely must have two hours at station keeping to do some sensitive recalibrations." Christine giggled as she imagined the conversation. She soon sobered.

"So," she began, "are you feeling any better?" Spock paused as if to take inventory of his feelings.

"Yes, much better," he replied. "And you?" Christine took a deep breath.

"It's a good beginning," she responded cryptically. "I'll need a little more time." She detached the cable that still connected her to Spock, wondering if that was symbolic of anything between them. As soon as the tether was stowed once more in Spock's suit, the two moved back toward the hatch that would admit them to the ship.

Kirk and McCoy met them on the other side of the airlock.

"How was your little excursion?" Kirk asked gently as Spock and Christine removed their helmets. A meaningful look was exchanged.

"It was a time of healing," Spock replied.

The End

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