Title: A Matter of Survival
Author: IDIC (idic0375 @ yahoo.com)
Series: NEW TOS
Codes: K/Ch
Rating: [PG-13]
Parts: 1/1
Disclaimer: Paramount owns Star Trek. I only own my fantasies.
Archiving: Sure, just let me know outside of ASCEM & THFFF.
Feedback: Yes please, here or by email.
Beta: Poor Frokitt, she didn't run away fast enough :) The good
stuff is hers and the foobars are mine.  Thanks, Dollface.

Summary: Story takes place near the very end of ST IV. What
ghosts are resurrected when faced with the obliteration of
everything?

~~~
The celebration of Earth's rescue from the whale probe, as it was
quickly becoming known, was on its last breath.  The mass of
people was noticeably thinner but hardly yet sparse.  Kirk found
Gillian at the bar and approached, not liking the way she
just dismissed him after the hearing.  Her face lit up as he
neared, a good sign, perhaps their relationship would not remain
as cryptic as she left it in the tribunal chamber.

"Good evening, Admiral--I mean--Captain.  I wasn't sure the
bureaucrats were going to let you go before I left."  Her 
smile held both a hello and a goodbye.

Glancing quickly over his shoulder at the throng of dignitaries
that held him hostage most of the evening, Kirk felt his
smile falter slightly at her mention of departure.  "I think
we've been through enough together that you can call me Jim,
Gillian, and if you know who those people are, you *are* a quick
study."

"Not by name, but I know bureaucrats when I see them and those
are bureaucrats."  She gave him a knowing laugh that said some
things would never change, regardless of the century.

"Another universal constant I'm afraid, but why do you have to
leave now that I'm free?"  He tried for his most winsome smile.

"Because my ship is leaving in three hours for Mer and my escort
is coming for me in...five minutes."  Her glance at the clock
told him she was not kidding.

"Mer?  What about George and Gracie?"  His confusion was real,
Gracie was very close to term and he could not believe she would
abandon the creatures she fought so hard to save.

"We're going to Mer to recruit a few scientists to be on hand
when Gracie has her baby.  I mean, it's one thing to be present
in a dive suit and respirator, but if you have gills, well, then
you're prepared for anything."  From her look of longing, Kirk
thought Gillian would gladly grow gills if that were possible.

"I see your point, but you have to go?  Certainly a comm to Mer
would have a whole legion of scientists begging for a chance to
be a part of rejuvenating a species."

"That's just it, Jim, we need more than George and Gracie's DNA
to bring back the humpbacks.  God might have been able to create
a viable species with just two specimens, but we're not God.  Mer
has the closest living relatives to large whales like the
humpback.  With samples of their DNA and some from the
smaller whale species still alive on Earth, we think we can keep the
bloodline diverse enough to keep them from dying out after just a
few generations.  I'm going to Mer to review DNA samples and help
gather what we need before Gracie has her calf."

"Sounds--busy."  Kirk grinned in defeat, knowing he did not stand
a chance over the gleam of excitement in Gillian's eyes.

"It will be.  Oh! There's my guide!" Gillian grinned in anxious
excitement as she waved her hand at the nervous ensign who
nodded, but seemed quite content to wait near the exit and let
her come to him.  "I'll never find my way around here,
everything's so different than what I'm used to."

He chuckled softly at her wild gesturing to gain the ensign's
attention. "You'll get used to it and you have a lifetime to do
so."

"Yes, and I have you to thank for this new and exciting life--and
for George and Gracie's.  Take care, Captain Kirk!"  She
stretched up and kissed him much as she did in the auditorium,
her smile mischievous in the knowledge he would prefer much more.

Kirk watched Gillian walk toward the young escort, feeling a
momentary pang of envy at her sense of joy and awe regarding her
new life.

"Oh my God, the Mighty Casey has struck out," came a familiar,
but slightly catty voice from just to his left.  He turned to see
who felt the need to quote Ernest Thayer to him.

"Commander, I didn't see you sitting there," Kirk cautiously
acknowledged the tall brunette wearing a revealing ice-blue
dress.

"I seem to suffer that condition a lot.  But I'm sure you
wouldn't know anything about that," she remarked into the dregs
of her drink, motioning the bartender to pour her another.

"Do you really think that's wise, Christine?"  Kirk asked with
brows askance.  He could hardly believe what was coming out of
her mouth now and did not think more alcohol would improve the
situation.

Chapel's cold stare allowed Kirk to notice her eyes were the same
shade as her dress before she turned her attention back to the
bartender.  "I'm paying for these, thank you," she lectured,
noticing the bartender hesitated at Kirk's remark.

"Uh, it's an open bar, ma'am," the young man corrected her very
apologetically and looked to Kirk for help.

"Then, I'm tipping.  Refill *please*."  She turned her withering
gaze on the bartender, motioning for him to pour.

"Commander, what's wrong?"  Not willing to be stared down or
ignored, Kirk stepped closer, waiting for an answer.

"I found near annihilation a very sobering experience.  I'm
working on remedying that," she answered drolly, her look laced
with contempt for herself and the world at large.

"I believe you've succeeded then--" Kirk started before she cut
him off.

"Oh no, I still remember quite vividly, so I'm not nearly drunk
enough yet." She slid her glass toward the bartender, daring him
to catch it before it fell off his side of the bar.

"But we're still alive.  We found a way to communicate with the
probe.  Earth is safe."  It sounded so simple but Kirk knew it
was anything but.

"No, *you* saved the world again.  Ops just sat back and watched
every contingency plan we ever contrived blow up in our faces. 
We were helpless--the fleet was helpless--everyone was helpless but seven
refugees coming back to face a court-martial in a commandeered
Klingon Bird of Prey.  That's a sad commentary on our abilities." 
Christine turned on her stool and stared Kirk squarely in the
eye, her voice full of disgust at how easily the Federation was
rendered useless by the probe.

Kirk leaned in, whispering quietly, "Hmmm, I see your point, but
I seem to remember that an Ops *friend* helped those officers
become refugees by opening a pair of dry-dock doors."  Christine
stiffened and glared at him all the more, her irritation reaching
new peaks when a smile curled the corner of his mouth.

"*I* didn't open any doors," She spoke plainly, as if talking to
someone slow.

"Perhaps you didn't push the button, but if a certain engineer
happened to *find* a random set of numbers, who's to know?  I
mean, he is the miracle worker, but maybe all the drama of us
escaping was just show and tell to keep folks from looking too
closely."  Kirk's eyes said he knew what was true even if his
tone was questioning.

"Maybe, but you have a lot of friends in Ops.  Who's to say?" she
tossed back in the same cavalier tone.

"I have two that I counted on," Kirk answered with quiet
conviction and Christine felt herself flush under his scrutiny.

"Yes, the same two who were pushed out of the nest long ago." 
Despite the tingle, she brushed away his attempt to reel her back
into the fold.  It did not matter that she chose to leave; he let
her go, just as he let Janice go.  But Uhura was still with them
and that always bothered her for some reason.  Why did she get to
stay and become the darling of the group?

"Some learn to fly faster than others."  He tried for something
light.

"Right.  I'm sure you've kept all the others close because
they're not ready yet to be out on their own."  Sarcasm was a new
look for her.

"So, I see being sober has forced a lot of skeletons out of the
closet."  Kirk sat on the next stool and motioned for his own
refill, it sounded like he was going to need it.  "Maybe they
haven't found their destinies yet--but yours and Rand's were
never with me."

"But still we serve you--can't turn our backs on you even when
you're a renegade.  How can you not be a part of our destiny?" 
She intercepted Kirk's drink as the bartender sat it down in
front of him, smiling humorlessly as he watched her sip his
scotch.

"Did you want to remain in McCoy's shadow?  You deserved a CMO
position of your own--".  Again, his attempt to mollify was
slapped away.

"I *had* one, remember?  You replaced me."  She cut him
precisely, wielding an emotional blade as sharp as a laser
scalpel.

"Janice loved you--loves you--you know."  She watched his face
for a reaction.  He must know how Jan felt about him, a man as
perceptive as Kirk would have figured that out a long time ago.

"Janice cares for her former captain."  Kirk looked away from the
penetrating blue gaze and continued speaking.  "She doesn't know
the real me.  She was young and naïve, I was her commander,
someone to look up to and make sure she made it back home in one
piece.  Sometimes that loyalty gets mistaken for love."

"You don't really believe that, but if it makes it easier to deal
with, then I won't argue with you.  We all have stories we tell
ourselves to make the truth more palatable."  It was her first
concession toward him and she realized her mistake too late.

"What truths do you tell yourself, Christine?"  He looked at her
now, his own eyes challenging hers for a confession.

She smiled enigmatically, not yet willing to share that part of
her soul with him.

"Let me take you home, Commander," Kirk asked, straightening on
his bar stool and using her title to try and set some distance
between them again in more ways than one.

"My place or yours?" she asked seductively, ignoring his real
question and turning it into one of her own.  Why did she have to
be yet another wallflower?  Why couldn't she get the guy on
occasion?

Kirk bit his lower lip--torn between laughing and issuing a
reprimand.  He settled for a shrug of his shoulders and a careful
smile.  "I think me seeing you to your door is our safest bet."

"And we know how well you like to play it safe.  I'm surprised
Nyota has let you off your leash this long."  Kirk followed
Christine's gaze to where Scotty, Uhura and Spock were standing
against the wall, watching them with concern.  Uhura stepped
nearer Spock, whispering something as he lowered his head toward
hers.  It never slipped Christine's notice that Spock always
allowed her closeness--some things even transcended
reincarnation.

Kirk's face grew cold but his voice became soft.  "Commander, I'm
trying to be understanding of your condition, but you're pushing
it."

"My condition?  What condition is that, sir?  My state of
inebriation or my sudden ability to see truths?"  Christine knew
she was way over the line but it was heady, the trill of anticipated rebuke
making her finally feel something again.

"Let’s leave it at alcohol consumption and not visit truths that
vanish when you're sober."  He kept his voice calm but it took
more effort than he cared to admit.

"Okay, fine.  I'm not really interested in spending the night in
the brig anyway."  She tut-tutted him with a condescending pat
against his chest as she attempted to slide off her barstool.

Only because Kirk was so near did she not end up as a limp mass
in the floor.  His strong arms held her steady as she attempted
to find her balance.  In heels she was slightly taller than Kirk
and she liked that he tilted his head back to look at her, if not
the actual expression on his face.

"Take me home, James," she commanded like a royal decree and then
giggled at how it made her sound like some rich heiress.

Out of the corner of his eye Kirk saw Uhura, and then Scotty,
take a few steps toward them.  Not wanting to draw any more
notice to Christine's lack of grace, Kirk warned them off with a
shake of his head.  Fortunately, the bar was near a side exit and
Kirk would be able to get Chapel out with minimal attention.

The bartender gave him a hesitant "good luck" as Kirk escorted
Chris with his right arm wrapped tightly around her waist.  From
a distance it looked more than a little familiar, but Kirk
decided he would rather deal with that rumor than Chapel getting
a reprimand for public intoxication and conduct unbecoming.

~~~

Once he got her into the brisk night air she pushed away from
him.  Leaning against the corner of the building, she sucked in deep
lungfuls of fresh air in an attempt to clear her head.

"Are you okay?" Kirk stood close enough to catch her if she
should start to fall but allowed her the space she demanded.

Peeking at him with one eye, she shrugged her shoulders slightly. 
"Depends on what you mean by 'okay'.  If you mean am I going to
throw up, well, the answer is 'not yet'.  If you mean my issues
with mortality, then 'I don't know' would be correct."

"Fair enough.  Let’s deal with those one at a time."  Jim motioned
a cab over to their corner.  "Step one, get you home and bedded
down with a few detox pills."

"Hmmm, well part of that started to sound interesting," she tsked sleepily
as he helped her into the cab.

"Step two," he continued patiently as he followed her into the
cab, "talk about why you think getting drunk and hitting on your
former commander is going to solve your problems."

"Well, that part doesn't sound like any fun at all."  Chris
pouted as she snuggled against Kirk's shoulder and went to sleep.

~~~
The trip to Chapel's apartment was uneventful save for the stares
of her neighbors as Kirk propped her against the elevator wall on
the ride up to her floor and then *helped* her place her palm on
the door sensor.  Once inside he followed the drill every
'Fleeter' knew of making coffee, finding the detox and washing
her face with a cold, wet cloth.

Chris pulled away from the chill of the cloth but Kirk slipped
his hand behind her head and held her still as he pressed the
cloth to her forehead.  Once she quit struggling and succumbed to
the relief of the cold compress, he moved it across her face,
gently stroking her cheeks and brow.  As with the night air, the
cool dampness revitalized her enough so he could get her to
swallow the pills.

"Oh God, I think I'm about to lose step one--" Chapel murmured as
she lurched for the head and proved herself right.  When she was
down to dry heaves Kirk heard the shower come on.  Ten minutes
later a wet and bedraggled, but much more sober, Christine
returned to the living room wrapped in a voluminous terry robe. 
Kirk passed her some coffee and waited for her to speak.

"So...let’s just forget about tonight and truths and mortality,
shall we?" she asked contritely under Kirk's steady scrutiny.

"No, now that you're sober I want to revisit a few of your
remarks, Commander."  The voice was calm, mild even, but she
hardly thought he felt like either.

Christine looked up and tried to see if it was a senior officer
in front of her or just 'Jim Kirk'.  She was not sure which
persona was the better one to deal with in this circumstance. 
Admiral or Captain, Chapel knew either could bust her back to
plebe for her mouth, but considering many of her remarks were
personal she thought 'Jim' would be the one to avoid most. 
"Oh well, I don't really remember much of what I said tonight. 
Sorry, sir."

"That's okay because I do."  He gave her a tense smile that held
nothing in the way of humor.  "Point one: do you and Janice
really think I pushed you away for any reason other than to
better yourselves?"

'Well, nothing like leading off with a trump card,' Chris thought
to herself about Kirk's question, recognizing it as a tactic to
unnerve her.  She sat back against the couch and drew her feet
under her robe, sipping her coffee for a moment as she pondered
her response.

"The short answer--no.  The whole truth of it--yes."  At his
silence she continued.  "Did my leaving make Spock's life easier? 
I've no doubt.  He couldn't keep himself far enough away from me
no matter how I acted toward him.  Much in the same way Janice
made you feel, Captain."  Chapel saw he was about to interrupt
and she held her hand up, silently asking him to hear her out.

"Maybe not exactly the same way.  See, with Spock I harbored no
misguided perceptions that he cared for me in any meaningful way. 
But you, no, you *did* care for Janice.  Maybe not love, but you
were attracted to her and you were afraid of that one slip in
maintaining the proper distance.  And then what would you do? 
Transfer her off? Forget it ever happened?  Keep seeing her with
all the risk that entailed?"  This time he did not try to answer
her even when she paused for a reply.

"So, you see, the most honorable way for you to deal with all our
problems was to encourage us to better ourselves.  We gained
something and so did you--a guilt-free conscience."

"I thought she died," Kirk replied casually, sinking
into the cushions and savoring his coffee.

"Who?" Chapel asked, confused by the non sequitar of his remark.

"The young woman who brow beat her way onto my ship those many
years ago to search for someone she loved.  It seemed once we
discovered Dr Corby was dead, you died too.  The woman who stayed
on the ship was just a ghost of the person who convinced
Starfleet and me that we needed her vast experience in research
for a head nurse position."  Chris felt her eyes well with tears
but she kept them at bay by blinking, trying desperately not to
feel that pain from her past.

Kirk did not stop; it was his turn to tell truths.  "All those
meek 'yes sirs' and 'no sirs'--the perfect nurse--tender but
distant.  Maybe your attraction to Spock was a safe haven to
store that love until you were ready to love again.  Maybe you
were ready to move on once the emptiness was not enough."

"Maybe--" She whispered before finding her voice.  "Maybe I
didn't want to live for a long time after Roger.  I didn't think
you knew the difference."

"I knew," he answered with a sad, but knowing smile.  "I just
wasn't allowed to show it--not to you--and not to Janice.  A
captain has no friends among the crew, he must remain distant and
above reproach.  I just trusted that the others would see
you through."

"Trust, that's an easy word to hide in.  You may regret my
rebirth, Captain, I'm a wicked lady now, not sweet like what
you're used to."  Her eyes were veiled, as mysterious as her
remark.

"How do you know what I'm used to?"  Somehow Kirk knew he would
not like her answer.

"Uhura is sweet, isn't she?  She's always around to take care of
you--"

"That's twice you've slammed Nyota, Christine.  I don't
understand, I thought you two were friends."  Kirk cut her off.


"We are, but that doesn't mean I don't resent that she got to
stay.  When Janice and I were promoted away, she got to remain. 
Why?  Surely Nyota is capable of doing more with her life than
being your comm officer.  Isn't she?  But for almost thirty years
she's been yours and Spock's shadow."  Her voice was full of
goading indignation.  Was it simple jealousy or something more?

"She's a part of my command team."  His answer tight and
succinct. 

"A beautiful member of your command team."  Christine pushed,
knowing he would cut her down, but doing it anyway.

"You're out of line, Mister."

"And you're hedging, sir."  She did not allow her voice to
escalate as she called him out.

Kirk rose from the couch and stepped to the window, staring out
at the bay below.  The view from his apartment was often much the
same, a gray mist rolling in from the sea, settling around the
bridge and surrounding land.  "Uhura is a part of my command team
and her beauty neither adds nor detracts from that.  I still
don't become involved with crew, Commander--that rule hasn't
changed."

"But you've thought about it."  Like a medieval physician she
continued to bleed the wound.

"I'm a man, of course I've thought about it."  He turned away
from the window, attempting to stare her down, cow her into
silence.

"Pat answer, Captain--too easy.  I know everything McCoy knows
about psychology and dysfunctional relationships.  I *am* a
dysfunctional relationship."  She smiled at his glower,
dismissing his efforts at intimidation.

"I think I liked you better when you were drunk."  Suddenly
changing tactics, Kirk morphed from angry to flip.

"I told you I was wicked." Christine's smile grew bigger,
perversely enjoying the cat and mouse game that was developing
between them.

"So you did." 

"And?" 

"And what?" 

"You've thought about pursuing Nyota?"  She kept dogging him like
a dingo pacing prey.

"Why do you feel that is any of your business, Chapel?"  His
voice became edged, again full of warnings Christine chose to
ignore.

Chris sat back and sipped her coffee, speaking matter-of-factly,
as if she might be commenting on the weather. "Because I'm not
crew anymore and I'm not interested in a competition."

"A competition for what?"  Kirk was momentarily lost, his
patience hanging by a thread.

"For whom."

"For whom?" 

"For you." 

"Me?" 

"And they said you were bright... " Christine deadpanned, shaking
her head in melodramatic disappointment.

"I have my days." 

"Today isn't one of them." 

"Apparently.  Did I miss something?"  The little double-take he
gave her was quite endearing.

"You mean the 'hey! I like you club over-the-head' I just smacked
you with?"  Her smile widened, enjoying having him out of sorts.

"Does being scared out of your mind make you irrational?"  He
walked back to the sofa, sitting down with a definite thud before
pouring them more coffee.

"No, but it does make me horny.  After the initial wave of panic
dies down I pinch the first bit of ass that walks by." 

"I imagine Cartwright gets a big kick out of that."  Kirk
laughed, visualizing Christine grabbing a handful.

"I try to time it to where he's not the man going by."  Christine
tried *not* to visualize herself doing so.

"I won't tell him then, wouldn't want him to feel slighted." 
With a laugh, Kirk shrugged his shoulders and leaned back into the
cushions once again.

"Exactly."  Christine's smile faded.

"Exactly?"  The hairs at the nape of his neck bristled at the
sudden flatness of her tone.

"Yes, it's no fun to feel slighted." Her eyes grew hard again,
the humor in them gone.

"Did I ever make you feel slighted?" he asked, somehow knowing
this was an issue in her remembrance of their past.

"You made me feel non-existent."  There was no anger, no
condemnation, just a cold statement of fact.

"I thought that was Spock."  The comeback was mild in delivery if
not in implication.

"Good one--yes, he was very gifted in that department too, but he
is a Vulcan.  No, you were the expert at shutting down whenever I
happened to walk in on any frivolity between you and McCoy or
Spock."  She smiled in spite of how the old resentment crept into
her voice.

"I did?  It wasn't personal--just trying to maintain decorum, I
guess."  Kirk's eyes became unfocused, as if he were trying to
remember their time together on the Enterprise so long ago.

"No, it definitely wasn't personal.  You kept the crew at arm's
length at all times.  I never understood how you could command
such loyalty and devotion from us yet remain so distant.  Still
haven't figured that part out..."  It was not the first time
Christine considered the irony of her continued loyalty to him.

"I was just doing my job, Commander--you know what it's like to
maintain a chain of command."  Kirk's face became serious, now
more captain than man.

"Yes, I do, but I allow for a certain familiarity between us--
discipline with a smile."  She did not give in, refusing to
accept duty as a reason for distancing.

"On Earth that's okay.  On a starship, with no other outlet for
tension, familiarity can lead to trouble."  He knew this argument
only too well, having it often enough with McCoy.

"It can, or it can just make the trip a little easier."  Her eyes
softened, becoming wistful.

Confused by the yearning he saw in her expression, he pressed,
needing to understand all the layers of emotion peaking between
them. "Chris, you weren't interested in me back then on the ship,
what is this all about?"

"I came to the Enterprise to find Roger and you were so
supportive and gentle with me through that whole nightmare.  But
once we got back to the ship, you just backed away and
disappeared.  That hurt, I hardly knew anybody except McCoy.  I
was so fixated on finding Roger--I guess I thought your concern
was genuine."  It was her turn to stand by the window, the use of
her nickname implying an intimacy that suddenly made it easier to
talk to the darkness outside.

Kirk came and stood behind her, not touching, but so close that
Chris could feel the heat emanating from his body. "It was, but I
couldn't fix it and I couldn't be Roger for you."

She spoke to his reflection in the glass, "No, I understand that
now, but I didn't then and it hurt.  Rebound or not, the misery
is twice as bad because you've never dealt with the first loss. 
It was never all about Spock."

Rediscovering her resolve, Chris faced Kirk and finished what she
needed to say. "I might have been a driven woman when I came to
the Enterprise but it was for all the wrong reasons.  After
Roger, I lost myself for a long time.  It took years, getting
away from the ship, getting away from Spock, and a lot of soul-
searching to realize other people couldn't make me happy.  That was
for me to do.  So I joined Ops, someplace where I could make a
difference--except during the probe attack--I found we couldn't
do a damn thing."

He tilted his head, a quirky smile playing with the corners of
his mouth. "Welcome to my world--not being in control is a bad
feeling."

"Very bad."  She stood nose to nose with him, amazed that he
attributed her meltdown all to a lack of control.

"And it makes you look at life differently."

"It obviously can make you say and do some pretty stupid things." 
She laughed self-consciously.

"Are we talking about you or me here?" he teased, liking the
pinkness of her cheeks and the vulnerability she allowed him to
see.

"Hmmm, I think I was just talking about me, for this whole
evening debacle, specifically."  She stepped past him, moving
back to the couch so she could breathe once again.

Kirk followed her, once more taking residence on his side of the
couch.  "Debacle?  That's a bit harsh.  I thought we had
a pretty good therapy session going myself."

"But who is the patient?" Chris questioned gamely, at least
pretending to consider Kirk might be gaining something from this
rough ride down memory lane.

"Maybe both of us.  Maybe you needed to put a few ghosts to rest
and maybe I needed to be there for the funeral."  It was an easy
acknowledgement of some not-so-easy issues between them.

"I think we need our license revoked."  She laughed shakily,
grateful for his understanding but at a loss of where this left
things between them.

"I think we need something to eat.  You want to go out or do you
have something in the kitchen?"  Kirk looked at her state of
dress and then looked toward the kitchen.

"I think I might find us a snack."  Chris grinned; trust Kirk to
always think of food when the situation called for a break. 

She came back with a tray of crackers, assorted cheeses and some
sliced apples.  A small bottle of sparkling wine and a seltzer
were balanced on either side of the small platter.

"I thought you could enjoy some wine even if I preferred to skip
it."  Her smile told him she was definitely giving up drinking for
the evening, if not longer.

They munched quietly for a few minutes.  Kirk spread some brie on
an apple slice and held it out for Chris to bite.

"That's my favorite way to eat brie," she grinned.

"On an apple or from my hand?" he asked wryly.

"Oh, you *can* play when it suits you?" Chris gave him an
impertinent look back.

"I'm not in space and you're not crew.  It's allowed," he
answered archly over the rim of his wine glass.

"It's always by your rules, isn't it?"  The smile faded from her
face, the hurt and anger resurfacing again.  The camaraderie and
ease established between them, gone.

"How do I answer that?  I am who I am, Christine.  I believe what
I believe."  His voice was tired.

"So simple--so neat.  My God, sometimes I think you're more
Vulcan than Spock--turning your emotions on and off at your
convenience-"  Christine flinched internally at the amount of
vitriol in her voice.  Where was all this rage coming from?

"That's not true, Commander, and you know it.  Why do you think
me so cold?" 

"Because you always stop yourself, thinking about the consequences,
and I say to Hell with the consequences...."
Leaning over to invade his space, Christine looked him defiantly
in the eyes before pressing her lips to his.

The kiss was not tender, years of denial, anger, resentment and
regret broke the surface as Christine locked her fingers in his
hair and pulled him roughly against her.  She found herself
pushed down into the couch, strong hands and a harder body
holding her there, passionate but furious eyes staring down at
her.

"I have others depending on me--my actions affect their lives--
their careers.  My duty doesn't allow me to act without thought,
nor does yours."  His voice was full of irritation that he should
have to explain the obvious to her.

"Who knows you're here now?  Whose life will be affected if you
stay?"  Christine flung it back to Kirk, daring him to see this time
it was only himself he was protecting.

"Chris, what if you wake up in the morning and regret what you're
saying now?"  His question was tentative and halting, the dread
of that regret very evident in his eyes.

"The only thing I'll regret is not saying it sooner, that it took
near obliteration for me to wake up."  She showed no hesitancy in
her own eyes.

Kirk's eyes scanned her face, searching for answers, his body
still holding her immobile.  "Why me?  Why tonight?"

"Because even though I've railed against you all night, you are
who you are.  You won't stay the night unless you really do care
and because tonight is all we have.  You're getting new orders
tomorrow and I most likely won't see you again for a long time." 
He was a ship's captain once again and ships were assigned
missions.  A veteran like him would not be kept close to home. 
In fact, Christine fully expected Starfleet to send Kirk out into
the dark just so they were not constantly reminded of their near
folly.

"Is that a protection for you or me?"  He knew the odds were high
that his new orders would send him far away from Earth.  The idea
of leaving tomorrow made tonight both tempting and not.

"Maybe both, neither of us have much of a track record for long
lasting relationships."  It was brutal honesty.  It was
tentative, and yet bold.

His eyes became soft, the questing search for truth replaced with
understanding.  She was right; he was a failure where love was
concerned.  It would be so easy to walk out her door and protect
himself from another heartache.  But his body felt good pressed
against her softness, her eyes were welcoming--one scarred soul
calling to another--her moist lips beckoned him to taste them. 
It would be so easy to go, so hard to stay and try again.  The
flesh was easy, the heart was a bitch.

His lips found hers, this time the touch gentle.  His hand found
itself against warm skin, the robe hardly an impediment to her
softness underneath.  She shuddered under his touch and
encouraged them to the bedroom.

~~~

The sheets were cool and crisp against his back as Kirk lay down. 
Christine followed him, her own flesh as exposed as his.  They
explored each others bodies, learning what brought pleasure to
the other.  Both were gifted in the physical aspects of making
love, it was the emotional territory that often proved their
undoing.

If the tenderness turned to something a bit more desperate, it
was not without precedent.  Each knew the fear of waking up to
find a gaping void when the passion was sated.  It drove one to
seek every moment of ecstasy, to forge a connection that would
not be severed with the coming of the dawn, the summons of a
comm, the issuance of new orders.

~~~

Christine woke up to a warm body pressed against her back, a
heavy arm draped over her waist and tucked under her breasts. 
Momentary panic galvanized her body as she remembered the night
before--the terrible things coming out of her mouth--and
worse yet, the man she said them to.  Was she out of her mind? 
Why did she let herself get drunk?  She, of all people, knew the
symptoms of stress-induced emotional trauma.  She could not even
lecture herself with 'physician heal thyself' because the mantra
of 'first do no harm' was carving itself into her brain.

Listening to his regular breathing, grateful he was still asleep,
Christine reprimanded herself for drawing Kirk into her pity
party.  But was the night solely about her?  She saw
loneliness in his eyes too, eyes that bore new lines of wisdom
and worry etched at their corners. 

Despite all the anger and old resentments that bubbled to the
surface during the night, she knew what stunned her most was the
man himself. Something drove him to stay and take her crazed
abuse.  He showed her compassion when most people would have
called Security and sent her away to sober up and cool off.  If
she did anything right this morning, it would be to apologize for
her caustic mouth.

Sensing a change in his breathing, Christine knew Kirk was awake. 
She turned to face him, knowing to wait would only make it more
awkward.  She smiled into sleepy but intelligent eyes, running
her fingers through tousled curls, holding her breath in
anticipation of what greeting she would receive in return.

A kindred smile, sheepish and full of the same awkward
nervousness, came back to her.  "So, any regrets?" he asked,
preferring to take the pain head-on rather than dance around it.

"Only that I spoke to you so poorly last night.  Forgive me?" 
Her smile became genuine now, her manner more like the Christine
of the past rather than the bitchy vixen he dealt with last
night.

"I think we both said some pretty harsh things, but maybe they
needed saying.  We survived."  His hand stroked softly against
her cheek and down her bare arm, forgiveness and something more
in his touch.

"Yes, we survived," she repeated as she leaned in and met his
lips.  It was still early in the campaign, but from such small
victories whole wars were won.

~Fade to black