by Satin Ragdoll
Chapel checked her friend's readings in the dark, not wanting to disturb him. McCoy was quiet, sleeping.
Fondly, she brushed a lock of hair out of his face. He stirred slightly and gave a little, "Mmm."
Christine jerked her hand back. He had sounded just like...like... No! Spock was gone. She had to learn to accept it. But since the Captain and McCoy had returned, it seemed like she could almost feel his eyes on her again. Spock's presence had always been unmistakable. She could always tell when he was there, even with her eyes closed. It had been that way ever since they had shared consciousness, during that mess with Henoch.
She turned away, consumed in her own grief. "Oh, Spock..."
"I am here."
An icicle shot down Chapel's back. That was Spock's voice, and out of McCoy's mouth! Impossible! He was dead! Christine didn't believe in ghosts, but Spock had been half-Vulcan. They had shared consciousness, so maybe...maybe...
Christine reached out a hand over McCoy's face, trying to feel something, anything. Closer. Closer.
McCoy jerked, eyes still closed. "Vulcans do not love."
She drew her hand back, shaking. Of all the things to say, especially in this...mess! Her hands tightened into fists. Christine was angry. She remembered seeing Sarek and Amanda, together. She remembered seeing other Vulcan couples, the way they seemed to share that solid, quiet warmth. She remembered hearing the stories. Leila, even Zarabeth during one night when the doctor was especially drunk. How it had hurt her. Others, but never her. Never her, when she had always been so loyal.
Looking at McCoy's calm face, she realized that this was just the same stubborn Vulcan's safe response to the same stubborn woman's human emotions.
Christine leaned close to McCoy's ear, without touching him. If this was real, she didn't want to break it. She wanted Spock to hear and remember this, if possible.
With as much vehemence as she could muster, she whispered her response.
It was several months later. Spock's katra had been restored. The issue with the probe had been resolved. The Enterprise crew to the rescue again, in a Klingon ship, no less. Whales, who would have thought? Spock, apparently. Spock, again. Hooray. Christine was beginning to sympathise with T'Pring a little, not wanting to be the consort of a legend. Hmph. Try being in love with one. Suckiness around every corner.
Her door chime rang. Who could it be? This was her vacation time, and everybody knew to leave her alone. Heads would roll if they didn't.
She looked through the viewing port, and it was Spock. Spock! Christine opened the door without a word.
He looked deep in thought. Finally he looked up at her sideways and cocked a brow. She knew that look, he had a question, and was intent on her answer. "Bullshit!?'
She stood up straight, "I believe that is what I said."
Spock straightened up, and his brows drew down. He was looking at the floor. She knew that look, too. He was thinking about it. He looked back up at her, "Are you quite certain?"
Christine nodded, heart pounding. She couldn't talk.
Spock debated a minute more. Jaws tensing, he reached forward and took her face in his hands, "The Captain tells me that I may have been in error. My mother tells me 'darn right' I have been in error. And the rapid pace my heart is beating now tells me I have definitely been in error." He bent forward to kiss her, tenderly. Pulling back a bit, he looked her in the eyes, "I wish to correct that, Christine." Then he kissed her again, this time kissing her fully.
Chapel melted. Making a small noise in the back in the back of her throat, she clutched his neck and kissed him with all the hunger that she had.
Pulling back a little, Spock took his first two fingers and traced them over her face. Christine almost came undone. That one touch had just about set her on fire.
Spock looked into her drowning eyes, "That is not 'bullshit'."
Her only response was to pull him inside, and lock the door.
It was after all, only logical.