Interludes: The Very Thought of You...

Christine Chapel glanced at the chronometer.  She had five minutes before her shift ended and she was so glad of it.  The last two weeks she’d spent going through the motions of her job and duties.  The love and passion that she had for science was slowly returning, but it was a daily struggle.  It did not help that she was having trouble sleeping.  Her dreams were filled with dread and more than once she’d woken up screaming for Roger.  He’d been gone for good now for over three months.  Why was she having such a hard time getting past it all?
“Hey, you’re supposed to be gone by now,” Leonard McCoy noted poking at the imaginary watch on his wrist.  
She smiled wanly, “I know, just daydreaming at the last minute.”
“Well, I want you to do some night dreaming.  Now, don’t give me that surprised look.  I can tell a case of sleepless nights a mile off.  I’m not the head shrink on this ship for nothin’,” he reminded with a grin, but his face turned more serious.  “Would it help if I gave you something?”
“No, I think it would just make things worse.  I’ll get over this stupid fixation I have eventually.  Thanks anyway.  If I can’t get any sleep tonight, I’ll make sure to get something.”
“A little bourbon can help too, just a touch...”
“No, I’d be up sick then.  Goodnight Leonard.”
The tall, blonde nurse logged off the computer and headed out into the corridor trying to stretch the tension out of her neck at the same time.  With a low moan, she sighed and rounded the corner, nearly running headlong into Commander Spock as she did so.  She colored brightly and smiled, “Mr. Spock.”
“Miss Chapel?” He acknowledged and kept on his path.  Christine began walking to her room again.  
Inside the ship’s standard junior crew stateroom, she turned the lights on half power.  She was tired, but it was that tired that didn’t let you sleep, just kept you exhausted for the duration.  She wasn’t hungry, decided to shower and just cuddle up with a book for a while.  She did stop long enough to check her messages.  None, that was good.  Stepping over to the small set of votive candles and holders that she had, she lit them and hummed a little.  It had been a long time since she had basically sat in the dark and listened to music so she requested a set of her favorite softer melodies.  They chimed up as she stripped off her uniform and boots.  The shower felt good, the hot water relaxed the muscles that she wished she could have massaged.  Maybe it wasn’t such a silly notion to have Sulu give her a good once over.  He had a way with the ladies and ‘massages’ was one of his specialties.  Of course, she might have to do other things with him to get it, but that wouldn’t hurt her either.  With a laugh, she leaned her head against the shower stall wall and tried picturing herself and the young helmsman.  While he definitely had a very nice physique, he was not her type.  He was a little too physical and rambunctious for her.  She’d heard about those gymnastic nights he preferred.  With the day’s tension beginning to flow away into the drain, she turned the water off before she used up the allotment and began drying off.  Spritzing herself with the calming cologne that she purchased on Vulcan, she breathed deeply of the light woody scent.  It reminded her of the smell of pine in the depth of a clear winter evening: cool, crisp, and definitely soothing.   Her choice of pajamas was standard issue Enterprise work out shorts and a sleeveless shirt.  If there was an emergency, she was at least more decently covered in it than in a pair of shorties or a nightgown.  
With the lights still at half power, she considered reading, decided that the water had worked its magic well enough that she’d just be able to drift off.  The music was nice though and she left it on.  Snuggling down into the covers she pulled the hand pieced quilt up around her shoulders, noted lazily that Doris Day was singing as she followed the river to sleep.  
“When I fall in love, it will be forever...or I’ll never fall in love....”
She slept.  After a time, she began the dreams just as before.  She was in a large cavernous room.  Balconies and doors surrounded her but they did not necessarily lead her anywhere.  She stood looking down into a pool of water.  It was an indoor frog pond filled with lily pads and strewn with other water flowers.  With a smile, she leaned forward to see her face in the water.  She was dressed in a rather revealing gown.  Looking down at herself, she realized it was a filmy negligee that covered a lot but didn’t conceal much.  It was nearly translucent.  A sound rustling behind her grabbed her attention.  Turning, she found herself in a crushing grip. She was kissed soundly and passionately, more passionately than she could remember.  Hungrily she kissed him back.  Her body ached to be loved and touched.  Moving back from him, she found him masked, but the eyes were hypnotic, dark.  Trying to remove the mask or to arrange it so she could see, he grasped her hand gently.  With a shake of the head, he led her toward one of the doors.  She went without hesitation.  The room was dark as she entered but the candles lit automatically to reveal a huge room, tapestries hung down the walls to give the room a dark but cozy atmosphere.  The masked man began kissing her neck from behind.  She moaned a little as he pushed the curls away from her shoulders and untied the spaghetti straps to begin removing the gown.  The diaphanous garment dropped to her feet.  His hands, large, warm, well manicured, began caressing her exposed flesh, but did not turn her toward him.  From behind, the hands found her breasts, gently massaged one while he planted light kisses down her shoulders.  She tried to turn, found that she was met with resistance.  The bed was a huge four-poster that sat in the middle of the floor with heavy draperies.  The masked man led her there.  She gladly climbed upon it.  She wanted him more than anything she’d ever wanted.  As in all dreams, she switched to another time.   The man was still with her, the mask still in place but the eyes had hers locked with his as he made love to her.  She could feel the steady in and out rhythms of his body. They were tempting and teasing her.  Her hands massaged and kneaded at the taut, firm muscles of his arms as they held him up so that he could use all his strength to pound into her.  He felt so good, all of him.  She wanted to please him as well, but he did not seem to wish to allow her to do so.  Long hair hid the features that weren’t masked, but the eyes had her spellbound.  She’d never seen eyes that color before.  They were a mahogany, not just brown.  Again, the dream shifted, and he was beside her kissing her naked shoulders, her arms, her wrists.  Somewhere, her mind wanted to know his name and she asked, “Who are you?”
His head shook.  He started to turn, to leave her dream, and she stepped forward to accidentally brush the hair away from one elegantly pointed ear.  
The dream turned into a daily scene aboard ship.  She was being addressed, “Miss Chapel.”
Turning, she met the mahogany eyes of the masked man... “Spock.”
With a start, she woke up. It wasn’t the same as before when she was trembling from the pain or fear.  She was not afraid. In fact she was strangely intrigued.  But, she didn’t remember what the dream had been about. The music was still playing, still Doris Day, “the very thought of you...and I forget to do, the everyday things that everyone ought to do. I’m living in a kind of daydream...”
“Music off,” she said and returned to her slumber.  This time it was an uninterrupted sleep.  

“You look well rested,” Leonard McCoy said the next morning as she walked in whistling.
“Had a lovely night’s sleep.  What’s on the docket for the day?”
“Vampira, get out your kit,” he teased, and she nodded as she headed off to begin the annual blood drive.  
The first member to report was Spock.  He normally gave blood once a month.  There was no other way to produce his particular Vulcan blood, and in this manner they always had a fresh supply.  With a bright smile she greeted him, “Good morning Mr. Spock, punctual as usual.” 
“I see no need to delay the procedure,” he stated flatly.  She was more chipper than she normally was when he came in.  But, humans were often dictated by their feelings, and he dismissed it as nonessential.   With her usual efficiency, she had him comfortable before putting the cuff that would pump and process the pint that he would give.  Her eyes met his.  She suddenly remembered the dream that she’d had.  Her eyes grew wide as she attempted to continue with her work.  Uncharacteristically, she fumbled the device and ended up poking him hard with the automatic injectors.  He did not say ouch, but his eyes nevertheless conveyed the sentiment.  
She stammered, “I’m sorry, clumsy today.”
“Hmm, yes, humans do seem prone to that.  Perhaps if you paid strict attention to your work...” he suggested which made her feel more like a bug under a microscope.   
“Yes sir,” she said and continued with the rest of the exam in her usual manner.  During the process and for the rest of the day, she did as many mental replays of the dream that she could.  She remembered the candles, the lovemaking, the feelings that she had.  She also remembered the eyes and those ears.  She’d fantasized over Spock of all people.