The Truth She Never Knew by Djinn

Romulus is surprisingly pleasant. The room we're in is lush; the soft breeze coming in through the wooden shutters is cool on our overheated skin. I laugh softly, turning over in bed and watching Spock as he walks into the room carrying a tray of food for us. He's naked and I'm naked and we've been naked for days now. Fortunately this lovely Romulan room comes with a very ornate and large shower, so we smell pretty good considering.

"Something amuses you?" Spock asks and I shrug. He puts the tray down on the bedside table and settles in next to me. "What?"

"I may have overstated the hardship of this little venture to Jenny."

"You said you told her the truth." He raises an eyebrow, that elegant gesture I loved, then hated, and now love again. "But truth is such a malleable thing for you, Christine."

"Seeing as how you're alive because of my fluid definition of truth, I'd tread carefully."

He doesn't answer, just pops the Romulan version of a grape into my mouth to shut me up, then watches me as I eat. "What version of the truth did you give her?"

I lean back and he follows me, fingers trailing down my skin, making me shiver. "I left out a few pertinent details."

"That you are supplying me with information I should not have? Information that is beneficial to my mission?"

"That would be one of them, yes." I smile as his lips chase after his fingers. Spock is surprisingly sensual when he wants to be.

"What are the others?"

I remember Jenny's face when I said I might not survive the ordeal of the Pon Farr at my age. "She doesn't know about the rejuvenation treatments."

Spock gives me a hard look; I give him one right back.

"I'd be dead by now without them. No more nookie for you, Mister."

"They are questionable procedures."

"I prefer 'experimental.'" Another reason to keep my M.D. up to date: you find out about the most interesting--and yes, questionable--research that way. I don't look young, but I sure don't look as old as I should. Good genes, I always tell people.

"So those were your lies?"

"Lie is such a hard word, Spock. You know I hate it. I prefer misdirection and omission."

"Yes, much more honorable."

I punch him lightly in the arm. "Honor is for Klingons. And neither of us are that."

"You said you told her Leonard was her father."

"I did."

He frowns. A true, human frown. It's something he only does during the Pon Farr. When his filters are stripped bare. "What lie is left?"

"To get to you, I needed her off balance. But to get her that off balance would mean telling her truths that might make her hate me. That hate--even if it didn't last long--would make her unlikely to be altruistic. To make her do what I wanted, to get me to you, I needed her to think that this would in fact be a punishment rather than a pleasure for both of us."

"I am not following your logic."

"There's a first time for everything."

"I am not convinced there is any logic to follow."

"There is. She loves me, but she also hated me at that moment. She knew I was using her because I told her I was using her. I was using her to get to you." I nuzzle close. "You: a man she knows I love, but also a man she thinks only wants to fuck me when he has to."

"You did not tell her we were bonded?"

"Oh, I did. But I made it sound like a marriage of convenience." I take a long breath. "She thinks this will hurt me. To be here with you. To be close to you without being intimate."

He closes his eyes for a moment and I know he disapproves. I also know he's fully aware that the only reason he still lives is because I did the impossible and got myself to Romulus. "Your methods are so..."

"Cold? Or were you going to say Vulcan? Admit it. This completely outdoes T'Pring in the logic department."

As he always does, he ignores my remark about T'Pring. The woman is still a sore spot for me. Not as sore as Valeris--I'm not really a fan of any of Spock's former paramours. Other than Jim. Yeah, I lied about that to Jenny, too, but what was between Jim and Spock was their business.

"Jenny is your daughter." He frowns again. "She is also mine in a sense."

"DNA testing would prove you wrong."

"In a sense. I was in McCoy's body, my katra, the integral part of me."

Another thing I left out when I told Jenny the story of her birth. Her father might have forgotten that night, but Spock never did--once his memories unscrambled, anyway. "So you think of her as yours?"

"You have never let me."

"It was for the best." I wonder if he's going to pull away as he does sometimes, when my methods--or just my character--repel him.

But he doesn't. He pulls me close and strokes my back. "She should know that I care for you."

"I'm sure I'll find a way to work that in. Once you're safe and sound on Earth again. Not really seeing the need to do it until then."

He makes a sound I don't recognize, and I realize it is a sigh.

"Spock?"

"I do not know when I will be back. If the Tal Shiar catches me, I may never be back."

"I know." It is a hard fact of our life. It is not a fact I like, but it is one I am never unaware of. I lived through his death once; I can probably do it again, no matter how much more I love him now than I did then. "Don't talk about it, all right?"

His face grows tender. "You are my wife in all ways that matter to me. You could stay here."

I laugh at his whimsy. "Yes, because I blend in so very, very well. Hell, Spock, you don't even blend in well up close." I crawl on top of him, taking advantage of how open he is. "Come home."

"I cannot."

It is one of life's ironies that Spock can love me and still live away from me. I know he loves me; I can feel it when we meld, when he touches me, even just when he looks at me the way he is now. He loves me and we'll probably never be together. Not in any traditional way.

But I'm not a traditional woman and I've learned to deal with this. I have him. That's all I've ever wanted. "I know you can't come home."

He watches me for a moment, his hands on my upper arms, holding me in place as he moves inside me. Then he says again, "Stay here."

I see he is serious. He wants me to stay. He loves me and that love is, at times, the only thing that keeps me going.

But someone else loves me, too. And she's the other thing that keeps me going. "I can't stay. I promised Jenny. Cross my heart and hope to die and everything."

His frown is laced with approval. I have some honor after all. I can see it surprises him.

"I do love her, Spock."

"Why did you never tell her who her father was, then? Why did you never tell Leonard?"

"Because he loved me too much and he would have wanted to do the right thing by me. And I couldn't have that. Not when I wanted you. And if she had known, she wouldn't have been able to hide it. Everything she feels is right there on her face. She'd have told him, and I'd have again ended up with him, because the two of them together could have shamed me into doing the right thing." I kiss him slowly. "And I didn't want that. I wanted you."

"You deprived her of her father and Leonard of a daughter because of me. That was selfish."

"And this is old ground. I did what I did because I am how I am. You don't like it, but you love me anyway. It's a cross you have to bear; I'm fine with it." I move on him, riding him, not letting him talk, reaching the point where I can't talk either. Collapsing on him, I whisper, "I wish I could stay."

"That I believe."

He's right to believe it. It's not a lie, or a misdirection, or an omission. It's the truth.

For once.

FIN