INTERLUDES: Never No More 

	In his dreams she called to him, his name coming in the steady rhythm of their lovemaking and when he finally climaxed and the dream ended suddenly to leave him cold, empty, and spent he could not help but wish he never slept again.  
	As was his custom, Spock rose, changed into fresh clothes, and went out into the ship’s night to prowl catlike for somewhere he could find peace.  He usually found solace in the quiet corridors eventually but tonight as he walked he found that he was antsy, unable to stand the loneliness of self.  On deck six Spock passed the medical section and without conscious thought stopped in front of a door.  Christine Chapel was off duty and he assumed would be home.  The door opened and he entered the nurse’s quarters.  She’d made every effort to conceal standard Starfleet issue.  However she was not in the main cabin.  “Just a second,” she called from the bath.  
	Spock was rooted to the spot.  What was he doing?  He had no right, no business, not a single reason to be here and yet he could not move.  She emerged freshly showered and scrubbed with her hair damp.  The thin robe stuck to her like glue, “Spock, uh… I um, was expecting Nyota to help with my hair.”
	It made him blink, but she pressed on, “Is there something I can do for you?”
	His expression was one she’d seen before something was at war in him and he was trying to figure it out.  On instinct she paged Uhura’s room, “Ny, forget the hair tonight.”
	The Bantu answered, “All right, everything okay?”
	“Just tired, see you later,” Chapel said and dropped the call.  “Would you like a drink?”
	Spock shook his head still unsure what he was doing in her room.  Chapel shrugged and ordered one for herself, “Sit down you make me nervous.”  
	He complied.  The chair was soft, cozy, meant for comfort and consolation.  It was engrained with her scent.  He waited for her to sit as well and she sat nursing her drink, “Do you still dream of him?”
	“Him?” Christine asked confused and then asked, “Do you mean Roger?”
	“Yes.”
	“Sometimes, why?” she answered wishing she’d added alcohol to the ginger ale if this was the topic he was going to pursue.  
	“What is it like?” he inquired.  
	She finished the fizzy drink, “Like a dream, a nightmare really.  In my dreams he’s alive and whole and we’re together the way it was supposed to be.”
	“And when you wake?” Spock prompted.
	She let out a wry laugh, “When I wake… it’s so lonely I wish I’d never gone to sleep.”
	“Yes…” he whispered in as bittersweet a tone as she’d ever heard. 
	“Spock, if I knew what the problem was I could try to help,” Christine remarked softly.  
	“There is no help.  She is dead and I am not,” Spock answered quickly and without further word left Chapel to wonder what the hell was going on.  

	It was days before she saw him again in Lab 3 checking readings, “Mr. Spock, are you doing better than the other night?”
	Spock’s jaw worked with annoyance and he barely glanced at her.  She asked again, “I said…”
	“I heard you Nurse.  Kindly do not meddle where you do not belong,” he warned with a look that told her he was all business.  
	“Of course sir, but if you recall you came to me not the other way around,” she shot back and left the lab without hesitation.  
	Spock immediately regretted his words.  She was merely concerned with his welfare.  It had been obvious that something was wrong with him.  But nothing had happened and if he had his way nothing ever would, with anyone, ever again.  
	Just as he turned back to his work the page came through, “Spock we’ve had a distress call from a very unusual source.”
	Kirk’s tone was one of mystery and Spock answered, “How so?”
	“It’s uncharted but they’re calling for medical assistance.  They call the place Platonius…”  

FIN