Interludes: I Was Blind, But Now I See...

Christine couldn’t help but stare at Spock as he sat unseeing at her station.  The damage done to his eyes was probably permanent, and he would be blind for the rest of his life.  He had said that it was infinitely preferable to the life lived in the grips of the parasites that he had been infected with.  Still, to be blind…  She shook her head as she tried to concentrate on her task.  McCoy was almost inconsolable.  The fact that Spock had volunteered without checking the lab results himself did not comfort the physician in the least.  Removing the data cassette from the reader, she approached Spock careful not to startle him, “Mr. Spock, here is the data you requested on the lab results.”
“Thank you Miss Chapel,” the Vulcan intoned trying to maintain calm.  Reaching out, he grasped the cassette and the nurse’s hand for a moment but did not let go immediately.  He could feel very strong emotions from her, ones that he had no time to allow himself to feel at that time.  She had been an excellent lab assistant and at times he assisted her in her experiments.  They worked well together.  But now, she emoted a sensation he was familiar with and wished he had not known.  Pity, compassion, friendship, and love were mingled together.  He pictured her face, the blonde hair, the blue eyes, the smile that always welcomed him when he arrived in sickbay or the labs.  Now, he’d not see them again.  He felt the sadness and almost a desperate need to run and hide build up in his gut.  He choked it down.  The last of the feelings he had felt from her alarmed him.  He had hoped that he could be a friend with her as he was with Lt. Uhura.  But what he felt destroyed that hope in his heart and mind.  He knew that with humans when one felt love toward another, mere friendship was impossible to achieve and maintain.  He mourned the loss of a valuable friend in one corner of his mind.  The rest was taken up with the problem at hand.  
He was halfway through the converted voice data tape when flashes of light started playing across his eyes.  Closing them and opening them to make certain he was not imagining things, they occurred again.  He would have to inform Dr. McCoy.  This might be a sign of other problems.  
“Miss Chapel?” He asked although he knew she had never left his side the whole time.  She had remained diligently going through the various bits and pieces of information trying to glean anything else out about the flying attack parasites.  If the light satellites were not as effective as they had hoped, it would be necessary to have a back up plan.  She seemed to be the only one who had considered this, a brilliant scientist indeed.  
“Yes, Mr. Spock?”
“If you could summon Dr. McCoy, my eyes are experiencing unusual sensations,” he supplied calmly.  He could hear the scraping back of a lab stool and her calling for the physician over the intercom.  She was at his side with a tricorder after a few seconds.  He could feel her hand push against his shoulder as she maneuvered his chair to look into his eyes.  “Can you see anything, light or shadows, colors?”
“It is a flash of light, almost like lightning.  I am in no pain,” he
answered and could hear Leonard McCoy practically run into the lab table when he arrived to see what was wrong.  
Within half an hour Spock’s vision began to clear.  First he could see light, then shadows, then muted colors, finally the fuzzy outlines of Chapel and McCoy peering into his face.  They slowly began to come into focus.  He was secretly never so glad to see anyone in his life.  His brief taste of blindness had not been a satisfactory way to live.  McCoy’s grin was only overshadowed by Christine’s brilliant blue eyes twinkling with tears.  Yes, it was almost painful to him to have lost her as a friend.  
“You damned green blooded Vulcan.  You can’t even go blind without coming up with some secret weapon.  But, by God I’m glad you can see,” McCoy was saying.  
Spock straightened and pressed his lips together, “Indeed doctor, it is agreeable if only to eliminate the need to stay incarcerated in your infirmary of horrors.”
With that he was standing and walking around.  His eyes were coming 
back to normal, and it took only a few moments to ascertain the reason.  He was built to be shielded by the harsh ultra-violet rays of Vulcan and the desert’s reflection.  
“May I return to the bridge?” he asked wanting to see the specifics on the satellite tests.  
McCoy nodded, “Might as well.  I forgot to tell you that they were going as expected down there.  In fact I think I’ll join you.”
As they started to leave, Spock nearly ran headlong into the nurse as she came in with another handful of data tapes, “Miss Chapel.”
“Mr. Spock, is your eyesight back to normal?” she asked with professionalism, but there was something about her tone, it was warmer, more affectionate.
“Yes.  I am certain that within a short amount of time it will improve back to its normal state.  Thank you for your diligence in the experiments,” he said regarding her continued efforts.
“I’ll have a report on the findings before my shift is over,” she said.  
Spock nodded and passed her to join McCoy.  Yes, it was a pity.  They could have continued working together so well.  Now it seemed impossible.