DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters are the property of Paramount Studios, Inc. The 
story contents are the creation and property of T'Kuht and is
copyright (c) 2001 by T'Kuht.

A FINE ROMANCE

T'Kuht

Commander Spock considered hitting the Captain. It would guarantee him a week's worth 
of solitary confinement or to the brig. That was if the captain went by
Starfleet regulations. But, knowing this captain as he did, he suspected it would only land 
him in sickbay with a certain CMO and a berating. Spock sighed and
looked at the paper again. In crisp cream linen engraved stationary, it read:

"Commander Spock,

"You are hereby requested to speak at the spring graduation ceremonies and as per 
regulation 43-678 you are required to take part in the following graduation
mixer and dance. Formal attire and an escort are required. 

"Admiral Jon Warton"

He had thought the words might have changed between the first reading and the fifth, but 
they hadn't. He had no difficulty in attending the graduation ceremony,
speaking in front of the new cadets to be matriculated, even attending the mixer and 
showing up at the dance. However, the last requirement... The escort, where
would he get an escort. There was no one aboard ship or off that he would ask to do this, 
no one even remotely in mind. He checked his chronometer and set the
paper aside. He would be required on the bridge in twelve point three minutes. Perhaps 
there he could ask someone. 

* * *

James Kirk stretched in the chair. He would be glad to be relieved and the soft swoosh of 
the turbo-lift told him that he was about to get his wish. Spock
appeared at his elbow. "Spock, it's about time."

Spock of Vulcan frowned slightly and checked the port chronometer. No, it was correct, 
he was early, "I do not understand. I was to arrive earlier than my
assigned time?"

"No, just wanting to get out of the bored seat for awhile,"Kirk grinned. When the ship 
was cruising and heading into port or a base, he got antsy. He hated just
sitting in a chair and felt like someone getting paid to do nothing. "I will be at dinner and 
then in my cabin." Spock nodded slightly and assumed his duties in the
center seat Spock could hear the steps walking away from him, pause and wait for the 
turbo to deposit someone else before whisking him away. Lt. Uhura smiled
and relieved her subordinate. 

Spock mulled his problem at hand freely after the standard checks and finally came to a 
solution. Three hours into the watch, he approached the communications
officer. "Miss Uhura,"he said softly leaning slightly to make it known it was a private 
conversation.

"Yes Mr. Spock." She turned, giving him the full radiant smile for her favorite Vulcan. 

"I assume you are aware of the communiques sent by Starfleet Command last evening." 
When she nodded, he continued. "I..." and here he stopped. He had never
in his life asked anyone on a date and he had no clue as to how to proceed. 

After the uncharacteristic pause she prompted, "I?"

"Yes, I am required to attend the graduation and the following festivities. I am also 
required to take an escort. I considered you," he stated flatly.

*Well, well,* thought Uhura, *I'll have to make a note of the date and time.* But her 
smile turned to a slight shake of the head, "I'm sorry Mr. Spock, I have
already accepted an invitation to the dance."

The Vulcan's face did not change but his eyes did. Now he was back to square one. He 
decided to ask, even beg for help if necessary. "Miss Uhura, have you
any suggestions on how to help with this situation?"

"Well, I do have one, but I don't know how you'll take it," she began.

"I am willing to consider anything."

"Remember you said that. Christine," she answered. His head shook and a little loudly he 
said, "NO!"

The bridge crew rustled to see what was going on. When it was nothing of interest, they 
returned to their duties. 

Uhura pointed out, "You said you'd be willing to consider anything. Christine was really 
looking forward to going to the dance. She was going with Lt.
Commander DeSalle, but he is unable to attend."

Ah, a way out. "How?"

"His mother died. He's on bereavement leave as soon as we dock. Mr. Spock, look, if you 
explain to her the way you have explained to me... You don't have to
spend the evening wining and dining her, you know. The invitation just says you need an 
escort to basically get in the door, not hang on your arm all evening."

Spock considered. Yes, that was true, and if Christine had planned to attend anyway... "I 
shall consider your alternative."

Uhura smiled, "You do that." *Well, Chris, I've done my part...*

* * *

Another three hours later, Spock relinquished the center seat to Sulu and mentally tried to 
prepare himself as he went ahead with his decision. In the confines of the
turbo-lift, he asked, "Computer, where is Nurse Chapel?"

"She is in her quarters on deck 7."

"Deck 7, please."

Sickbay and the quarters for most of the medical personnel were located on deck 7 and he 
easily found the nurse's quarters. Standing at her door, he buzzed once
and waited ... and waited ... and waited. Surely she was not asleep, it was actually 
morning and her own shift began in less than an hour. 

Finally, just as he was about to leave, the door opened. Spock regarded the sight. A 
woman in a blue bathrobe with fuzzy pink slippers, pink plastic tubes in her
hair and green goo on her face stood before him. The blue eyes were the same though. 
With an exasperated sigh, she was glad the green mud mask hid the hot red
cheeks. "Mr. Spock?"

"May I come in?" he asked quietly.

"Well, yes, but I have to get ready for my shift so if you'll let me clean this off..." she 
answered and allowed him in the door. 

The tall nurse hurried into the bathroom while Spock stood just outside the door sensors. 
He could hear the water running and in less than two minutes she was
back, the face still red but scrubbed clean and the hair still in curlers. Heading over to the 
wardrobe, she began to remove the tubes, "Yes, Mr. Spock?"

He began, "Miss Uhura informs me that you would be willing."

One hand still untangling a curler, she blinked and regarded him, "Willing for what?"

"I am required to take a partner to the graduation mixer and dance. I was told you were 
going to go but now cannot."

"Yes, Paul's mother died and he can't attend. Let me get this right. You want to ask me to 
the dance?"

"Yes. I need an escort to get in the door."

"I see. Well, in that case, yes," she answered without a flutter in her voice or her actions. 

Spock was a bit taken aback. She had made her feelings known, then apologized, but her 
subsequent reactions to him made him decide she had those feelings
anyway. But there was no reactions from her that this was in any way out of the ordinary. 
He had thought she would be practically trembling from the excitement
of the whole idea. Instead she took it in as if he'd asked her to take readings on a plant. 
When there was no other words from the nurse, he studied her as she
finished removing the tubes. He had never seen a woman do her hair before, not even his 
mother.

"Is there something else Mr. Spock?"she asked completely innocent. 

"No, I shall contact you later about more precise arrangements," he turned to leave. Her 
voice brought him to a standstill.

"Mr. Spock, my dress is lilac."

Spock rose the eyebrow she couldn't see. "Indeed," and went out the door. It had gone 
better than expected and he wondered for a brief moment why the color
of her gown was supposed to be an issue to him. Probably just some feminine form of 
communication. He thought nothing else of it.

Christine made certain he had been gone three minutes before letting out a small yell into 
a pillow just in case he was still outside in the hall somewhere,
"YESSS!!!"

* * *

The Enterprise docked at Fleet Headquarters and allowed the crew to disembark for a 
week's leave and R&R. The ship could go through needed repairs and
remodeling before shipping out again. The graduation ceremony was on Saturday 
afternoon and the mixer/dance would be in the evening. It was the first time the
cadets got to mix with members of the starships they would be serving with or able to just 
mill about with their professors. The atmosphere was one of respect but
there was almost gleeful anticipation for the future. 

Commander Spock had given his speech, presented an award, and met with several 
former professors afterward. He would return to the Enterprise to change
into the formal attire. Apparently a further communique had stated that dress uniforms 
were not considered formal and a list of what was acceptable followed.
Humans, he allowed a small part of his brain to sigh. He had arranged to meet Miss 
Chapel at the entrance to the Starfleet reception hall at 0500. There would be
the formal dinner reception followed by the dance. Dressing for the event, he had chosen 
the most simple of the suggested clothes. The elegantly cut tuxedo
enhanced the military cut of his "jib" as McCoy coined it and the dark black made him 
appear even more the handsome specimen that Uhura had referred his
direction. Tugging on the shirt cuffs to peek them out from the black jacket, he turned his 
attention to the tie. A set of instructions in the box told him how to
proceed, but after four attempts to get it right, he had gotten it wrong. Thinking perhaps if 
he had someone else to help, he sought assistance. 

Leonard McCoy hated dressing up, but this was a special occasion. He would have the 
lovely Uhura on his arm, he'd get a chance to see Christine in the new
dress she'd raved about, and he'd get to dance a jig. A buzzer broke his attention to the 
part in his hair. He was having trouble with the new haircut. He knew he
should've waited a few days before getting it newly clipped. 

"Come."

Spock appeared with the black piece of material and shoved it at him, "Can you fix this?"

"Well, my, my, you do look nice. What, you can't tie a bow, Spock? Really," McCoy said 
with just a little teasing. He was in a fairly good humor and this only
added to it. 

"No," he stated flatly and again shoved it at him. 

"Here, it is a little hard." 

McCoy had the tie done and inspected his work, "Very nice. You are going to make a 
nice pair."

Spock shook his head, "I assure you we are not a pair. This is simply for getting into the 
dance. I'm sure Miss Chapel appreciates the offer to attend. I was told
she was looking forward to it."

"Mmm-hmm, bought a brand new dress. She says it's beautiful. I can just imagine. That 
uniform does not do much for her, you know," McCoy pushed lightly. 

Spock shrugged, "It is the standard dress, Doctor. She has to wear it."

"Well, I'm ready to go if you want to go with me." He grabbed the box off the desk. 

Spock accompanied the physician to the transporter room, said nothing as Ensign 
Giacomo gave them both the once over and barely kept from whistling. It was
late spring and the beauty of the parks around the reception hall was in full flower. They 
walked across the concourse to the large structure and stood waiting. 

"The girls will be late. Women are always late," McCoy explained. But they didn't have 
long to wait. The women rounded a corner from the flower gardens and,
as they approached, Spock asked about the box. "Why do you have a box, Doctor?"

McCoy tried not to take his eyes off the ladies as they approached, "Huh? Oh, flowers... 
Where are yours?"

"I am required to carry a box of flowers?" he asked, trying to sort all this out. 

"No, you ding... You buy corsages or wristbands for the ladies to wear. You didn't get 
any?" McCoy asked in astonishment. Spock shook his head. "Well, it's too
late now. Just don't mention it and maybe it won't be a big deal. Christine will probably 
just figure you didn't know." 

Spock nodded at this suggestion and got the first good look at his date for the evening. 
Tall and glowing with all the beauty of classic Rome, she was a contrast to
the Bantu communications officer who also looked better than he had ever seen. Both 
women wore velvet capes over the dresses or they could be the dresses for
all Spock knew. 

McCoy's whistle was soft. "Zowee."

Both women had spent a great deal of time on their appearance and it was well spent. 
They were breathtaking and Spock even registered the moment. Christine
bowed her head slightly, "Mr. Spock."

"Miss Chapel, you look becoming," he managed. That was almost an admission of ardent 
admiration. 

The group moved toward the door and entered, stopping long enough to deposit the robes 
at the hat check before going in. Once the robes were off, the women's
dresses stopped at least four people on the spot. Uhura's rich camel and claret gown 
hugged the well proportioned torso and fell in cascades of chiffon to her feet,
a simple gold and pearl necklace the only jewelry around her neck.

Christine had chosen lilac organdy. She had had the gown created especially for the 
occasion and used a dress from a movie as the guide and had tried to
duplicate Grace Kelly as well as she could. Tiny spaghetti straps did not really hold the 
bodice up, but a scarf of material tailed from her left shoulder down to
touch the hem of the skirt that fell in long cascades to her feet. A necklace of amethysts 
and pearls adorned her bare neck and it did not go unnoticed that her
shoulders and back were perfect. Her hair swept back in a simple style, much simpler 
than she normally wore, it was held in place with a plain gold clasp. She had
made certain to add extra peroxide to the coloring she put on her hair and had spent 
several days in a tanning mode in the pool on deck 3 just for this occasion.
Even if it hadn't been Spock who was taking her, she had already decided that was how 
she was going to appear. 

Spock's first impression of the state of his date was typical, stone faced, but behind that 
face was a raised eyebrow and a soft whistle. He had never seen Christine
out of uniform other than the casual clothes she wore around the gyms and rec areas. 
Giving her his arm, Spock led her to the entry door where they would
present their invitations and be announced. 

"Commander Spock and Lt. Christine Chapel," intoned the vocoder.

Eyes, at least those from the Enterprise, turned to appreciate their first officer and head 
nurse. An audible gasp was barely heard but he could not tell if it was a
feminine or masculine gasp. He just noticed the look on Captain Kirk's face as well as 
Scotty's approving glance from the buffet table. Spock approached them.
"Gentlemen, ladies."

Jim Kirk grinned almost foolishly, "Christine you are ... gorgeous, and I don't mean that 
as an understatement. Spock, I envy you the prettiest girl at the dance."

Spock nodded slightly, but really thought it nothing but surface flattery. "Oh, and Spock, 
you look mighty nice too."

"Uh-huh," breathed the lieutenant that was the captain's date. Christine fairly glowed. She 
could feel the appreciative looks and was pleased. She'd waited a long
time to unveil this gown and to show Spock how well she could contain her emotions. 

"Dr. Leonard McCoy and Lt. Nyota Uhura."

Again gasps, this time Christine turned to watch them descend the stairs, "Doesn't she 
look divine?"

Spock agreed. Uhura was a dear friend to him and he had never thought anything but 
good things about her. Allowing the couple to enter the circle of friends the
doctor declared, "Spock, looks like you and I have the prettiest dates. Well, besides the 
Captain and Scotty here."

The southern charm was on high speed and Spock noticed the flowers that McCoy had 
brought for Uhura fastened on her waist. Looking at the other ladies, he
noted that they all wore flowers or a flower of some sort. Knitting the brows together for 
a moment, he pondered the problem. 

Dinner got underway and the group was separated to create fewer cliques and allow the 
cadets to speak to the seasoned crews. Spock and Christine were placed
together with members of the admiralty and the cadets who had received the awards 
Spock had presented earlier. Admiral Vincent seemed to take a fancy to
Christine even though his wife sat directly opposite and couldn't help but notice. "Miss 
Chapel, I am sure that I can persuade my wife to allow me to dance with
you this evening. May I steal her away from you, Commander Spock?"

"Miss Chapel is allowed to dance with whomever she chooses," he answered factually. 
She was there to get him into the reception, she had done so and now their
bargain was over. 

Christine smiled, "Of course, Admiral, if it is all right with you, Mrs. Vincent?"

The older redhead smiled, "Please, he steps on my feet most of the evening. It'll be a nice 
change for me."

Dinner went smoothly. Spock found the conversation pleasant and non-intrusive and was 
actually enjoying himself. Normally he did not relish these affairs.
Perhaps it was just the general mood of the room. 

The dishes and tables cleared from the floor, the dance began and the usual favorites in 
the orchestra's repertoire opened the evening. The Enterprise crew
gathered at a table near the corner by the balcony and decided to use that as their base of 
operations. Spock made his apologies and excused himself to the
conversation he was having with representatives of the Vulcan delegation. He had no 
worries about Christine's dance card. She was already whisked onto the
floor by Admiral Vincent before he was twenty paces away. He watched the dance floor 
every once in a while out of curiosity. Yes, it was true. Christine was the
only one there with no flowers. He had failed to provide her with something expected by 
social customs. Beginning to formulate an excuse or apology, he waited
till the music ended and there was a small intermission to return to home base. Faces 
flushed with excitement and exertion, they all greeted him. "Spock, sit down,"
McCoy said. He'd had a couple drinks and was in a very good mood. 

Christine and Uhura as well as Kirk and Scotty's dates excused themselves to powder 
their noses and left the men alone. When they were out of earshot, McCoy
teased Spock a little, "So, when are you going to dance with Christine?"

Spock looked puzzled. "I do not plan to."

Kirk and Scotty exchanged rather dismal expressions. Spock was aware of this, "Why?"

"Well, you don't just bring a lady to a dance, especially not one as fine as my Head Nurse 
and then dump her. You have to dance at least once ... for politeness,"
Kirk explained. Spock looked distressed. "Come on, it's not like you have to spend all 
evening with her. Just one. It won't kill you."

The girls reappeared and the conversation turned to something else. Spock waited for the 
music to begin again and as the group headed out to dance more, he
found himself alone with Christine. He turned to look into the bright blue, glistening 
eyes. She was happy. Even if he wasn't dancing or paying attention to her, she
was having a good time. Her dance card had been full every turn and now she was able to 
rest for a moment. "Miss Chapel, I have been remiss," he began but
changed the topic. "Would you care to dance?"

Startled, she merely nodded and followed him to the dance floor. Neither she nor Spock 
noted that they were the center of attention to at least a third of the
dancers. Taking her lightly, he kept her at arms length, the proper position for a waltz 
even though it was technically a two step. She paid no mind. It was nice no
matter what it was. She had just picked out the strains of the song and placed it with 
words. "At Last," was playing and, remembering the words, she hummed it
softly in her mind. She decided it was time to compliment him on the very well fitting 
tuxedo. "Mr. Spock, I find that I too have been remiss. You look ... well ...
quite handsome."

"I appreciate the compliment," he replied. The lack of flowers still nagged him, though, 
and finally, halfway through the song, he dropped his hold. "I am sorry, this
is not acceptable." Without another word, he turned and walked out of the hall, leaving a 
rather shocked and stricken Christine, although she said nothing, created
no scene. She merely walked back to the table as if he had excused himself properly and 
would return later. 

"Remind me to kill that Vulcan science officer of yours," McCoy said angrily at Kirk as 
the couples moved closer together to ask what happened. 

"Well, Spock is just that ... a Vulcan. You know how it is. Christine's not exactly been 
secretive."

Uhura retorted, "But to just leave her in the middle of the dance floor. It would have been 
different if he hadn't been the one who escorted her here." The nurse's
distress was not evident so they thought maybe he had an excuse, and she could clear 
everything up. As they reached the table however, Uhura could tell her
friend was in a state of well controlled disappointment. Before she could ask what was 
wrong however, McCoy demanded an explanation. "Well, he'd better have
a damned good excuse, like he was about to die or had to go to the bathroom or 
something."

Christine's eyes brimmed with tears. "You could say that. All he said was, it was quite 
unacceptable and left. All I said was that he looked very handsome in his
tuxedo."

McCoy fumed, "I'll kill him."

Kirk's commanding tone eased the tension, "Bones, that's enough. I'm sure Spock didn't 
mean it that way." He couldn't help but feel a bit of anger towards Spock
himself. It was a cold, callous thing for the Vulcan to do, no matter what the 
circumstances. He made a mental note to tell him the proper way to treat a lady when
they returned from leave. 

Christine couldn't hide anymore tears. She allowed a few to splash down her cheeks. 
Once, just a few minutes ago she was the most beautiful woman at the
dance, now distraught. Scotty heard another song start up, "Lassie, would ye, gi' me your 
arm for a dance."

Christine didn't want to. She wanted to just go home. She was miserable. But, Scotty 
hadn't danced with her yet and she had promised. Nodding, she rose and
made their way to the dance floor. Scotty, the invariable jolly uncle figure in her life, held 
her closer to him than Spock and kept a tight hold on her hand as the
strains of "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes" played in the background. Knowing the words all 
too well, Christine buried her face in Scotty's shoulder and sobbed a
moment.

"Ach, lassie, dinna cry. You're the most beautiful woman here. Spock just doesn't know 
or understand."

Christine pulled away from him, glad that the lights had been turned mercifully low. "I 
don't think he ever will, Scotty. Thank you for the dance. Tell everyone I've
gone home when the song ends, please. I have a headache." She didn't lie. The sudden 
shift from ecstatics to despair had left her disoriented and tired. 

Scotty frowned. "All right. But I'm sure you could get something for the headache."

"I think the best place for me is curled up in bed with a journal and a cup of warm milk," 
she answered. The song ended and she hugged him lightly as she began to
leave.

He didn't want to let her go, she was so unhappy. "It's okay Scotty, I'm just going to go to 
bed."

He released her. She was after all a big girl and entitled to her own decisions. The lights 
were still dim and she fled the dance floor ignoring Admiral Vincent's
approach for another dance and retrieved her robe. Chimes were sounding midnight as 
she ran down the steps and she felt as if she were Cinderella come true.
But this time she had no glass slippers to leave behind. Within moments the transporter 
whisked her away and she was home. 

* * *

Spock stood in the outer hall, away from the dance at the comm unit. He had tried every 
florist in the area and finally found one that would deliver a nosegay of
roses. He had informed them to deliver them at this door and waited. He could not 
believe he had been so stupid. He should have read the entire passage on
etiquette instead of stopping after what to do to begin. He was certain it was there, but he 
had been called to the computer lab and he had not finished the item.
Finally, after 45.8 minutes a ground car pulled up and a bedraggled man, in his late 40s 
hurried up. "Are you Sims, the florist?"

"Yes, your nosegay, sir. That will be 200 credits." Spock quickly paid the annoyed man 
as well as gave him a generous tip, although with the price of the nosegay
having elevated 400%, he didn't know why he did so. Still, the man smiled, "Thank you, 
sir."

Spock considered the point as he left. Opening the box he was pleased with the purchase 
anyway. It was a spray of cream roses with small purple ribbons and
baby's breath. It was quite a bit different than the other ladies but they were flowers and 
he was desperate. Closing the box, he returned to the dance. The lights
were turned up but he could not see Christine either at the table or dancing. Perhaps she 
was on the terrace or in the bathroom. He made his way to home base.
McCoy spotted him halfway through the dance floor, "Of all the gall."

"Give him a chance, maybe Spock has an explanation," Kirk tried knowing McCoy was 
just sloshed enough to really let Spock have it. 

Spock stopped, "Where is Miss Chapel?"

That was it. McCoy fairly lunged at him, "Spock, I swear to God I'm gonna strangle you. 
Then I'm gonna resuscitate you so I can do it again. Why did you tell her
she was unacceptable? You don't tell a woman that..."

Scotty interrupted, "You upset the lass a great deal. She went home about thirty minutes 
ago."

Spock took a deep breath and pinched his lips tighter. He knew an explanation was 
needed to keep his comrades from hating him. Even Uhura, the one person
who never became stern with him looked icy. "I found that I had been derelict in my 
duties as her escort." Offering the evidence of the box, "I did not know I was
to get her flowers. I was arranging for them while I was gone."

The group deflated. He must have been right. There was a box, Christine hadn't had 
flowers but no one had really thought about it, and Spock was never
insincere. 

"Spock that may be true, but why did you tell her she was unacceptable?"

"I did not. I said 'This is unacceptable'."

"But you didn't explain what this was. She automatically assumed that 'this' was you two 
dancing together. What else was she to use for reference?" Uhura
explained gently. She felt rather sorry for him. He didn't know, but then he didn't know 
anything about human customs. Someone probably should have given him
the crash course. 

"I shall rectify the situation at once." And without further word he turned and walked 
quickly out of the hall with the box of flowers. 

"Jim, just for once I'd like to be a little bug on the wall. I hope Christine let's him have it," 
McCoy chuckled. He was still angry at Spock, but not like before. 

* * *

Spock materialized in the Enterprise transporter room, surprising the night duty 
technician and his female companion in the middle of a rendezvous, if their guilty
expressions meant anything. He had no time for lectures or giving reprimands. They too 
were shocked to see the first officer in the tuxedo. Before they could get
over the shock, he was out the door and up to deck 7. 

* * *

Christine didn't care that the soap stung her eyes, the tears washed the soap away and she 
didn't dare look in the mirror. "Fool, fool, idiot, fool..." she muttered to
herself. As soon as she had gotten to her quarters, she had stripped the dress and shoes off 
and thrown them at the corner, knocking a china cupid off that had
been a present from her niece and shattered it to pieces. She immediately regretted the 
act, but it was the straw that broke the camels back. Symbolically, it would
be a cupid to shatter. "Even you can't fix this heart," she said in the direction of the 
broken knick knack. Dressed in the outfit she usually wore to bed, an old t-shirt
and a pair of shorts, she knelt down to pick the pieces up. Maybe with glue...

She cried harder. She didn't know which hurt worse, the stinging insult from Spock, the 
humiliation at her own mind's twisting, or the destruction of a present from
a 7 year old. Her face was cleaned of the makeup, the hair brushed out with vehemence, 
and the jewelry back in the case. She was at least calm enough not to
damage that. It had been a family heirloom and it really would have hurt to have lost it. 
Sitting on the floor, she was gathering as many pieces as she could when the
door chimed. 

"Damn,"she answered. Nyota or Leonard no doubt and that made her feel even worse. 
She wasn't a two-year-old who needed monitoring by Mummy and
Daddy. Still, she didn't want them here any longer than they had to be and answered, 
"Come."

Spock stood at the door half expecting hurled objects the way she appeared. Closing her 
eyes, she was counting to ten when he said her name, "Miss Chapel?"

Opening the blue eyes now tinged red from so many tears, she said, "What?"

In all the time he had known her he had never heard that tone. He hesitated stepping 
inside. There was no danger of being heard by passers-by. There was no one
else on Deck 7. 

"I came to offer an apology. I did not know..."

"Yeah, well, thanks for the apology. I'll be certain to log that in my diary for the 
evening," she answered with barely controlled fury. He was only making her
madder and more depressed. 

"Please, allow me to complete my statement," he requested. She didn't.

"Oh, sure go ahead. At least finish something this evening."

Spock paused. This was definitely not working well. With nothing else left to try he 
presented the box to her, "I brought you this."

Christine was still sitting on the floor and every muscle in her body felt like screaming. 
She'd worked up such a fury that her whole body ached. Tired, exhausted,
and numb she asked, "What is it?"

Spock handed her the box, careful that he not stray too far from the path of the door. He 
felt as if he were presenting meat to a hungry lioness and hoping she'd
allow him to leave the cage intact. Christine just stared at the box, not even wanting to 
open it. Tears were coursing down the hot flushed cheeks and she was
beginning to get so stuffed up she couldn't breathe through her nose. 

"Are you going to open it?" he asked hopefully, preparing to duck. 

Laughing bitterly, she flipped up the lid and shook her head, "Wha...why?'

Spock regarded her, "I had neglected to acquire flowers for you. I did not know that I was 
supposed to until we were already at the dance. This proved
troublesome to me and unfortunately I picked the wrong moment to decide to do 
something about it."

Christine picked the bouquet out of the box. It had been arranged probably for a wedding 
and for some reason hadn't been used. She was suddenly so tired she
could hardly see straight. Not looking him in the eyes but staring at the tops of his shoes, 
she said quietly, "They're beautiful. Thank you."

Spock thought of leaving but the sight of her so dismal and alone on the ship kept him 
from going. "Miss... Christine, may I have this dance?"

The startled nurse looked up tears still flowing. She thought she had heard incorrectly 
until he held out his hand to her. "But there's no music," she offered. 

Spock nodded. "Computer, dance music selections, collection 4."

Suddenly the room was filled with the music of George Gershwin. Christine accepted his 
help getting up and noted somewhere in the back of her mind that he held
her closer than he had on the dance floor.

The tune was familiar to her. She loved Gershwin as well as Irving Berlin and Cole 
Porter and the words joined in.... "The way you wear your hat, the way you sip
your tea... The memory of all that... Oh no they can't take that away from me. ... The way 
your smile just beams, the way you sing off key... The way you haunt
my dreams, oh no they can't take that away from me. ... We may never, never meet again 
on the bumpy road to love. Still I'll always, always keep the memory of
... the way..." 

Christine allowed the words to drift away and for a time heard no music. Just held onto 
Spock, still clad handsomely in the tuxedo and she in her night clothes.
They were a sight. The music faded and another song began, and Christine started to 
move, assuming that it was her token dance. 

Spock didn't let go. She looked at him, thought she saw something of a glimmer there. 
Spock was a fluid dancer, even if he was not used to the movements, and
she continued dancing with him. No words were spoken, her tears were gone as well as 
her anger. 

After the fourth selection, she realized that Spock had drawn her almost up to a close 
embrace. She searched his face for some answer, some reason. None
arrived to her. Her cabin was not a large place and so they basically went around and 
around in a circle. She kept her eyes focused on the flowers sitting on the
edge of her desk. Flowers... He'd gone for flowers ... but why... 

Finally she asked, "Why didn't you tell me you were getting flowers or at least give me 
some other explanation?"

Spock pulled away from her but kept the rhythmic circling of the floor, "I do not know. I 
suppose because Doctor McCoy told me not to."

"McCoy ... he didn't know why either," she answered as if to accuse Spock of an untruth.

"No, before we went in. I asked the doctor why the box. When he explained he told me to 
forget it, that you probably would not care and not to mention it to
you."

"Oh," she was silent for a time. "No, flowers were not a priority with me. I just wish you 
could have said at least something. Then we'd still be at the dance and not
rotating in my room."

Spock noted the lightened humor and took it as a good sign. He considered a moment. 
She was no longer dressed to go back to the dance and he really didn't
want to go back down. However, there was a large dance floor set up in the aft 
recreational decks. He found this dancing rather soothing. Almost meditative. "If
you wish, we could continue in the ballroom."

Christine stared at him. The evening was a strange one indeed. She loved to dance. This 
was a better chance than she could have hoped for. Still... "Mr. Spock
that is a sweet offer but you don't have to dance with me."

"I see no reason that my taste be brought into this. I simply find that it is not as 
unpleasant as I had always thought to engage in dancing."

Okay, she was going to just faint right here and wake up to find it was a big screwy 
dream and they weren't even orbiting Earth or she wasn't even on the
Enterprise. She found her voice. "I suppose ... but I'm not really dressed for it."

Spock stepped away from her. The dress was heaped unceremoniously in the corner. 
"Your gown is there. Does it take long to change?"

She laughed, "No, I guess I can just slip it on and not worry about anything else. Let me 
change, and I'll be ready in a few minutes." 

Grabbing the gown, she dismissed the idea of hose and makeup, splashing her face with 
cold water, she ran a brush through the hair and pulled it back in the same
gold clasp as earlier. She was no runway model, but she was presentable. 

Spock remained standing in her quarters. He had really no idea why he asked her to 
dance further. His obligation to her was through. Still, it was only 0100, and
he simply was not ready to retire for the evening. He allowed his eyes to wander around 
her cabin for a moment. He had not visited it beyond stepping inside the
door on two occasions. 

The vision that arrived outside the bathroom door was not as breathtaking as earlier but 
still quite becoming. Somehow she had been able to regain the composure
she had lost. Not forgetting the bouquet, she held it at waist level and stepped ahead of 
him as they headed aft.

* * *

The ballroom was odd. Only a single center light illuminated the emptiness of the great 
room. The music was soft and lazy. Christine kept hearing the words of
another Gershwin song in her head... "Don't wake me if I'm asleep, let me dream that it's 
true..."

Christine had been a ballroom dancer in her younger days and had competed in junior 
championships until she started pre-med. Then her life became too hectic.
Still she loved to dance whether it be with a ballroom dancer or just a slow dance like this 
one. Spock noted she was very light on her feet. He had always thought
she was a bit clumsy. Her height didn't help in that assumption. Now he re-evaluated the 
situation. 

"Where did you learn to dance, Mr. Spock?"

"Vulcan children incorporate dancing into their childhood as exercises in co-ordination, 
but not in this form. My mother taught me when I was quite small," he said
softly. 

"Well, you do quite well."

The music changed to a more rapid pace and he stopped swaying, "I am afraid she only 
taught me to waltz."

Christine smiled at him and in the low light she looked as beautiful as she had earlier in 
the evening. Somewhere that registered with his mind. "Would you like to
learn to do another step?"

Spock pondered a moment. There would be no harm and it was excellent exercise. "I 
would not be against the idea."

Christine beamed. "Computer... change selection to Swing number 8."

The computer complied and a lively tune, one he was certain he could not dance to, came 
up. "Really it's not that hard," Christine said. "Give me your hand. No,
not there. Put the left hand around the waist and don't stick your right arm out so far," she 
instructed and they ended up almost side by side. "Just let me lead."

Spock did so and she started to more or less bounce with the music. "Spock, you have to 
loosen up a little." 

"Loosen up?"

"You know, don't be so stiff. Allow your muscles to just dangle, I mean don't go all soft, 
but not so tense."

Finally after a few moments he at least relaxed somewhat. Christine tried to get him to 
follow her steps but found that with the billows of fabric that if she couldn't
see her feet then neither could he. "Maybe this won't work with this outfit. We'll try 
something closer to what you already know."

Music changed and they assumed the familiar positions. "I'll teach you the box step 
instead. You've basically already done it anyway."

"What were you attempting to get me to do?"

"The Lindy hop, but well, that's not so easy," she explained. At his questioning gaze she 
provided the information, "It was named after the famed transatlantic pilot
Charles Lindbergh. It's the base in a lot of the faster numbers."

"You have a command of dance," he reasoned. The music in the background wasn't 
heard, but they kept time anyway. 

"I used to have a regular partner and competed in junior amateur competitions. I love to 
dance. I just haven't really done any since medical school."

Spock weighed her words, "Why not, if you loved it so?"

"Well, medical school takes up most of the time, and well, Roger didn't dance." She was 
glad for the darkened room. She still didn't like speaking of Roger. 

Spock said nothing else for a time and they just made their way around the room. It was 
almost surreal for him. He would never in his life have dreamt the night
would end the way it had. He found she was not as flighty or uncontrolled as he had 
thought. As a touch telepath he could sense her basic feelings but did not seek
out her thoughts. The first moments of dancing in her cabin was unsettling with her anger 
and fury at him, but now, she was calm and happy. He did not feel this
over-exuberance of love that he had in the past. Perhaps she had learned to control her 
feelings better. It certainly wasn't that she didn't love him. Her reaction to
the evening's events were evidence of that. 

Hours flew by. It had been 0100 when they arrived in the ballroom and at 0800 they were 
still there. The computer had nearly run out of selections, but they didn't
mind and, if it had been planetside, the dawn would have brought them out of the strange 
reverie they were in. The night lights kept them held in a strange other
world. They spoke in short amounts of time, was quiet most of it, but remained dancing 
the entire time. 

* * *

Leonard McCoy woke with a big hangover. He'd wanted to check on Chris when they'd 
gotten back. He figured he'd find a bloody mess all over the wall
because they had had no word of Spock after he had left either. Now, it was 1000 and he 
wondered where she was. Her cabin was empty. Spock's cabin was
empty and it didn't look as if they had been slept in. "Computer, where is Nurse Chapel?"

"Ballroom, aft recreation decks."

"Where is Commander Spock?" he asked as Jim Kirk and Uhura rounded a corner. They 
were to meet for brunch and had come to fetch the others. 

"Ballroom, aft recreation decks."

Two human eyebrows hit the hairline. "Well, I'll be damned."

Nyota smiled, "Still hung over, honey?"

"Must be, come on."

Leading the way, he wordlessly started to the ballroom. He didn't bother explaining why. 

The lights were still low but kept a spotlight on a certain radius of floor. There the three 
found Spock and Christine still dancing, still in each other's arms, and still
talking. 

McCoy could have fallen over. Kirk was trying to assimilate it all, and Uhura just shook 
her head and grinned. They hadn't even heard them approach. The
moment was so picturesque, but it had to end sometime. "Mr. Spock, Miss Chapel."

The two nearly jumped. Christine flushed crimson, Spock's look nonplused. They had 
done nothing wrong, had enjoyed the evening, and he saw no reason to
pretend as such. 

"Have you been here all night?"

Christine nodded, "What time is it?"

Spock supplied the answer, "1023 hours. We have been here since 0115. In case you 
wished to know."

Christine smiled with a shy grace. There would never had been a moment in her life that 
she thought she could have actually danced the night away, especially with
Spock. "My, no wonder I'm tired. I'm starved too," she tried to change the topic so that 
McCoy and his prying eyes would stop staring. 

"Well, that's where we are going, but you're gonna look awfully odd in those outfits," Jim 
Kirk pointed out. 

Spock nodded, "Miss Chapel, if you will excuse us, we will change and meet you there."

Christine started to protest in this 'we' bit but was still so inebriated with the evening that 
she just nodded and turned to follow him down the hall. They were in the
turbo-lift waiting to be dropped off when Spock turned to her, "I regret upsetting you."

"Well, that's okay, and if you hadn't, we'd not been able to dance all night. Personally I 
rather enjoyed it more than I would have with the others anyway," she
answered shyly and remained staring at her bouquet. She was trying to figure out how to 
keep it preserved for the rest of her life when the lift stopped at deck 7.
"Thank you for the lovely evening, Spock."

"No, thank you ... Ginger," he said, a slight twinkle in his eye and, as the doors slipped 
shut on her shocked face, he could hear her, "You too, Fred."

FIN

   DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters are the property of Paramount Studios, Inc. The 
story contents are the creation and property of T'Kuht and is copyright
(c) 2001 by T'Kuht. This story is Rated PG. This is the sequel to "A Fine Romance."

The Gay Divorcé Or 

(What Do You Do With a Drunken Vulcan?)

by T'Kuht

As the Enterprise sped away from Vulcan headed for Altair VI, Spock of Vulcan tried to 
come to terms to the events that had changed his life. He no longer felt the
overwhelming surges of sexual need that he had before arriving. They had not completely 
dissipated, but they were controllable. Now that he was aware that his
captain and best friend was not dead but living and practically laughing at him, he felt as 
if he could breathe once again. The ship had been required to attend the
swearing in ceremonies of the new president of Altair VI and would miss those, but 
would be there just in time to attend the formal receptions and many parties
afterward. It was a planet wide celebration, and the Enterprise could use a little R&R. 

* * *

"Spock, I realize this is not the best time for you to appear in public, but you are 
required..." Jim Kirk was saying as they walked down the corridor toward the mess
hall for breakfast. 

The Vulcan stopped him with a succinct, "I am recovered. It will not be a problem for me 
to attend."

"Okay, I know how much you dislike these displays of emotionalism and Altair VI is 
definitely an emotional planet. I was just going to say that if you only wish to
attend the inauguration dinner, I will understand your leaving early."

"Thank you. I will keep that in mind," Spock answered, clearly unwilling to talk. He had 
spent nearly the entire day after their disastrous trip to his home planet in
meditations and rest. He was beginning to become serene again although there were still 
unanswered questions and thoughts. 

* * *

Altair VI was a lush planet with the climate zones closest to Earth's mid-tropical areas. 
There were no extreme hots or colds, just a nice evenness to make it delightful
to visit and live on. It had become a sort of playground for the rich since it had been 
discovered almost two hundred years earlier. They elected a president once in
five years and they usually got to sit out the entire time an elected official was allowed to 
... twenty years. This was a brand new president, duly elected after a hotly
contested race, and the planet was ready to celebrate. For the first time in almost two 
hundred years, they had elected a president that represented the working
classes. They were still wealthy working class, but they weren't the idle rich money who 
had first arrived. These were the upstarts who earned their money the hard
way. 

* * *

"Enterprise, group A, ready to beam down," intoned Transporter Chief Kyle and waited 
until the light confirmed the lowering of the shields. The shimmer and the odd
whine that accompanied the departicalization of solids filled the room and the captain, 
first officer, chief medical officer, and chief engineer all disappeared. 

They were to be received on the other end by planetary officials and whisked to the large 
cabinet hall to be introduced to the new leaders. It would be a few hours
before the rest of the crew would be allowed to go down to join the festivities. 

* * *

"Which one are you going to wear?" Nyota Uhura asked as she looked at the two dresses 
Christine had lying on the bed. They were both beautiful and voluptuous,
one a dark garnet velvet and the other an emerald green satin. The nurse was busy with 
her hair and trying to get the recalcitrant curls to appear as if they naturally
should just drape down her neck. It wasn't working. With a sound of disgust, she picked 
up the beaded comb and swept the curls up to go along with the rest of the
blonde locks. "I'm not sure. Which one do you think?" 

The Bantu woman thought a moment. "I don't know. They're both gorgeous. Which one 
is the most comfortable to dance in?" 

"Hmm, well, the velvet is but it gets hot with the bolero jacket on. The green one is 
cooler but it shows the wrinkles so bad. I guess if I get hot I can take the jacket
off," the nurse mused and decided on the velvet sheath dress. This wasn't a formal dance, 
but it was definitely of cocktail standing so they were dressing
appropriately. Uhura's solid gold lame creation hugged every curve she had and gave the 
slightest hint of others rather intriguing. She had chosen it for a special
reason, she intended to have a very good time indeed. Uhura helped the nurse slip into the 
velvet dress and approved heartily.

The nurse's all too fair complexion was made almost creamy vanilla by the combination 
of the platinum hair and dark garnet gown. If anyone could be considered a
fair beauty it was her. Aware that her height was a problem at dances, she chose simple 
comfortable gold slide sandals with as short a heel as she could get away
with. If the dress had been to her feet it would not have been a problem at all. She had 
satin slippers for the occasion. But this dress ended just above her knee and
the shoes had been a problem. "Well, I suppose we should get going. We're in group Z, 
aren't we?" the nurse said sarcastically referring to their low grouping. It
seemed like everyone else would get there and be back before they even saw the 
transporter room. 

"Yeah, we're Double Z," Uhura answered and the two friends headed for a good time. 

* * *

The inaugural balls were in full swing in at least every city on Altair VI, but the big ones 
were the ones the ship's personnel were going to be attending. Captain James
Kirk had been occupied with a very lovely liaison from Deneb II. She was attentively 
listening to one of his near death experiences with almost open mouthed awe.
Deneb II was not the home of the smartest race of creatures. McCoy had disappeared 
long ago after he learned they had a variety of plant that most resembled mint
on Earth. Scotty had joined him looking to see if they had any Scotch anywhere. Trays of 
appetizers were being circulated and tables of food were laid out throughout
the halls. Commander Spock seemed to occupy his time most around the large bowls of 
punch and Altair water that he favored. Kirk had been a little worried about
his friend. After all, he had been through a life changing experience just days earlier. Kirk 
nearly died from the ordeal, and he was still tender where Spock's lirpa had
slit across his chest. The Enterprise Captain found himself keeping an eye on the Vulcan 
more than he normally would have. Spock seemed to be waiting or looking
for something. He wasn't sure. 

The evening wore on and Spock still attended the dance and festivities. He didn't want to 
leave. He found it enjoyable here. The Altair Spring Water was flowing and
he found it inexplicably sweet and soothing. He usually preferred Altair Mineral Water 
aboard ship. For some reason he also felt as if he could smell, hear, taste, and
see more acutely. That he could attribute still to the waning effects of pon farr. From the 
corner of his eye he could see the parting of a group from the Enterprise.
The sea of dress uniforms gave way to two women elegantly attired in cocktail dresses. 
Spock allowed his eyes to appreciate them for a long moment and realized
almost too late they were headed right for him. Averting his eyes, he sipped more Altair 
Spring Water. The women took a cup of punch apiece and greeted the
Vulcan. 

"Mr. Spock, you look handsome this evening," Uhura said. Christine nodded her approval 
also, and he could tell by the flushed cheeks that the two had been down for
some time and enjoying the dance in the other room. He remembered the night he had 
spent in the nurse's embrace as though it were only a few moments ago. He
swallowed hard. 

"You look lovely this evening," he said to both of them but turned his head to emphasize 
the nurse's condition. She apparently did not notice the attempt to compliment
only her. In fact, she assumed it was meant for Uhura, and she just happened to be there 
at the same time. 

Christine watched him with a bit of medical curiosity. Only five days earlier he had 
thrown a bowl of soup at her and told her to mind her own business regarding his
affairs. Even though he had been tender with her and requested additional soup later, they 
had only spoken a brief moment before he calmly told her he wished to be
alone. He was such a walking contradiction. Still, the revelation that he was going to 
meet up with his wife had completely knocked her for a loop. She had hoped that
this dress and the dance would bring a new interest to her life so she could just get on 
with it. Spock's attendance told her that she wasn't going to have as much fun
as she had hoped. He seemed to have the same effect as a dishpan of cold dirty water on 
her happiness. Still, the evening was young and her legs itched to dance
some more. Downing the rest of the punch, she smiled the face brightening smile she had 
and excused herself, "If you don't mind, I'll return to the dance." 

Spock and Uhura both nodded their assent and Spock kept his eyes on her as she moved 
lithely through the crowded room. Uhura was saying something to him that
he had paid no attention to until the end. "Don't you think so, Mr. Spock?" 

Warring between being truthful with her and just agreeing he chose the latter. "Yes, of 
course you are correct, Lieutenant. If you will excuse me." 

Spock left the communications officer speechless as he maneuvered toward the dance 
floor. She had teasingly said something about how much the dress took
advantage of Christine's hourglass figure, knowing full well he probably didn't even see 
the gown she had on. Now with that statement and the fact that he followed
her exact path to the dance floor made her rethink her favorite Vulcan. * * *

Fast music and glittering lights filled the large dance hall. The new president favored 
music that was referred to as pop or Rock 'n Roll and had requested that at least
at his own personal inaugural ball they play a good selection of that. A tune about a 
woman named Long Tall Sally was blaring from the surround sound amplifiers.
People were dancing in a most irregular fashion. He thought back on the time Christine 
tried to teach him to do a Lindy hop. If this was what she was attempting to
get him to do, it would have been difficult indeed. He had stepped onto the parquet floor 
far enough to get smacked into by a twirling couple. He recognized them from
the Enterprise. 

Spock nodded an apology and stepped back away from the dance floor. Christine was 
busy with a handsome man. By looks, he was probably younger than she but a
good dance partner. He watched as she whirled and twirled to the tune. The dress was 
provocative though not revealing. As the song ended, the dizzying lights from
the mirrored balls in the ceiling slowed and the next song was considerably slower. He 
noticed that the young man stayed with her and held her closely. Spock felt a
surge ... one that he had to act upon. Daring back onto the dance floor, he reached the 
nurse and her partner quickly. Tapping him on the shoulder, he surprised both
of them. "Miss Chapel," he said and had her in his arms before she could say goodbye to 
the other fellow. 

Christine was rather overcome. Spock was a married man and now he was dancing with 
her. If he'd been human it might not have been so unusual. But, this was
strange. She found herself stiff and ill at ease with him, although his dancing technique 
had improved since the Starfleet graduation dance the year before. She could
think of nothing to say. 

Spock held her in his arms, the dance rhythm was the same as the ones they had spent an 
entire evening with earlier, but something wasn't right. Christine didn't seem
very pleased that he was with her. Not wanting to make a scene or do anything to 
embarrass either of them, he just kept dancing with her.

"Are you having an enjoyable evening, Miss Chapel?" he asked to try to make the time 
easier.

"Lovely, such a nice change from the ship," she answered softly. Nearly in tears, she was 
determined not to allow them to fall. The words of the song were so
appropriate to the situation they were in. "...you loved me, then you snubbed me, but 
what can I do? I'm still in love with you..." 

Spock apparently gave no credence to the words except to register they were there. The 
house lights stayed low and another song began, one just as slow. The
pleading strains of "Love Me or Leave Me" rang through the room hauntingly and Spock 
started to take her in his arms again. This time, she pulled away and shook
her head. "I think I'll sit this one out, thank you, Mr. Spock." 

Spock watched as she fairly fled the room and the words of the song became painfully 
aware to him as he watched her go. "... I want your love, but I don't want to
borrow ... to have it today to give back tomorrow ... for my love is your love. There's no 
love for nobody else." 

* * *

Christine tried to stop crying. "Why does he effect me this way?" she mourned to herself. 
Why did he do this to her at these stupid state occasions? Why couldn't she
just have a normal love life like everyone else? Somewhere her mind answered, "Because 
you're looking for Prince Charming and there aren't any royal families left
anymore." 

Uhura and Kirk had both seen her leave quickly and followed her line to the lone figure 
of Spock in the middle of the floor. Uhura sighed, "Damn, don't tell me he did it
again." 

Kirk shook his head in disbelief. "I don't know about those two. But I suppose we should 
check on them." 

Uhura went out to the balcony, Kirk to the departing Vulcan. Spock decided that going 
home would be best. "Spock," Kirk said stopping his friend.

"Yes, Captain," Spock replied not aware that they had been watched.

"Anything you want to talk about?" 

"No, It has been an interesting evening. I believe I will be going back to the ship now." 

Kirk nodded. "Okay, well, I was going to ask if you wanted to accompany me out of the 
main hall here and go in to the town to see some of the sights. Might prove
more interesting." 

Spock considered a moment. He really didn't want to go back to the ship and it was an 
offer. They headed for the more uncivilized part of Altair VI.

* * *

"Christine, what is it?" Uhura asked in her softest most calming manner.

The nurse wasn't angry, just hurt, confused and down right tired. "If there was a way to 
completely erase every emotion I'd ever had about that man, I'd pay my entire
Starfleet's career pay to go through it." 

"Did he say something? What?" Uhura asked remembering the last time. 

"No, he said nothing. He just wanted to dance with me. Nyota, he's a married man. I 
mean he just got back from his wife and now he's dancing with me. I just
couldn't handle it. I felt almost like I was a mistress or dirty, I don't know. I just couldn't 
stand it anymore. Maybe this is the best thing. I need to get so disgusted that I
can't even look at him," she said and started crying even harder. 

Nyota rubbed her friends shoulders. "You need a good drink. Why don't we go back in 
and see what they've got?" 

Christine shook her head. "No, he'll be in there." 

"How about the town then? We can find a nice dark spot. Maybe some nice dark men..." 

The prospect of something different brightened the dismal nurse. They were off in the 
night air before another moment was lost. 

* * *

Spock had accompanied Kirk to at least three separate tavernas now. The captain seemed 
to get more and more inebriated while Spock became more and more
sober. This was not working. Spock longed for that Altair Spring Water he'd had at the 
inaugural hall and ordered it in lieu of the alcohol Kirk seemed to enjoy so
much. This was a lower end tourist taverna with dancing girls and other pleasures of the 
senses. Spock didn't care for it much. Thinking they ought to be going
somewhere else, he started to say something but found that he was a little woozy. He had 
not eaten anything all evening and decided that was the problem. Attracting
a passing waitress he inquired if there were a menu and received a rather odd reply," 
You're looking at the menu." 

*Humanoids...* he thought. So much for the idea of food. Perhaps that could lure Kirk 
away from this bawdy place. 

"I am hungry. Could we go somewhere that serves food?" 

Kirk looked his first officer over. It was well into the night but the places of businesses 
dare not close or they'd lose lots of money. "Okay," he slurred slightly. "You
lead the way." 

Spock's strong grip held Kirk up and they swayed toward the door and the fresh air of the 
night. 

* * *

Joe's Surf and Turf was a maritime wharf inspired restaurant. A pier led to the entrance 
and a small lake had been carved out of the parking lot to encircle the building
on all sides. Chinese style lanterns lit the outside al fresco dining area. 

"We have no room for two," the maitre de said again to the two Starfleet officers who 
stood next to his podium. The place had been jammed all night. 

"We'll take whatever you've got," Kirk insisted. Rank hath its privileges and he would 
pull rank if necessary. 

"There is a table for four next to the kitchen," he said with an exasperated sigh.

"We'll take it," Spock answered. The woozy feeling had only gotten worse while they had 
waited. He found himself leaning uncharacteristically on the podium. 

"If the gentlemen will follow me then," and they were led through a smoke filled area full 
of the smells of grilled seafood, steak, and vegetables. 

Kirk waved the menus away the waited presented, "Steak ... medium rare, baked potato 
extra sour cream and butter and toast. Spock, what do you want?" 

The Vulcan asked, "Do you have a vegetarian course?" 

"Yes, sir, we have the grilled vegetable shish-ka-bob." 

This was agreed upon and the drinks they had ordered arrived, Kirk's beer and Spock's 
Altair Spring Water. He was beginning to feel a little waterlogged. Noting the
restroom sign, he excused himself.

* * *

"Chris, I've heard this place that has the best steak ... let's eat here," Uhura said and 
blinked several times quickly letting the nurse know she'd had a little too much to
drink and food would probably be a good idea. 

"That sounds great. Let's go." 

They stood waiting patiently at Joe's Surf and Turf. Uhura was more forceful than the 
nurse and had gotten the maitre d' to go ask if they could sit with another
couple at a four seat table. He returned, "They would be pleased. If you would follow 
me." 

* * *

Spock was still in the bathroom and Kirk had gone to chat to a lovely lady near the piano 
bar. The ladies sat at the empty spots and ordered quickly. They were in the
middle of speaking on some subject of importance only to two people who knew each 
other so well when the Vulcan appeared. "Miss Uhura, Miss Chapel?" 

"Oh, no," Christine groaned. Of all the tables in all the joints this was the end... She 
wished she were more sloshed. 

"Oh, Spock," Kirk called and stepped over. "We are to have the company of two lovely 
ladies for dinner ... hi. You're hungry, too?" 

The evening was definitely a bust or at least Christine was thinking it was. She was tired, 
hungry, wanted to go home, had a slight case of the hiccups, and now had to
endure Spock's company at her elbow. He seemed to be a little unsteady, but she decided 
it was her vision that was playing tricks on her instead. It took nearly an
hour to get their meals to them. The kitchen staff was severely taxed and getting crankier 
by the minute. The presence of Kirk and Uhura did keep the mood from
getting too depressing. Christine even found that she wasn't quite as mad at Spock as she 
had been at the dance. No, not mad, more heartsick than mad. The food
was excellent and the group left to allow others their table. Kirk and Uhura took the lead 
position in the group and Spock tried to walk next to Christine. He was
having difficulty maneuvering. 

It wasn't long before Kirk and Uhura had left them behind and Christine considered 
catching up with them. They were so busy laughing and having a good time
swerving down the street that the nurse was a little annoyed. Looking back at the Vulcan 
science officer, she considered her options. She'd never seen him plastered.
It was rather unusual. "Mr. Spock, I think you'd better stop drinking that Altair Spring 
Water." 

"Why, it's most delicious," Spock fairly slurred. 

"I can just imagine. Come on, I think you need to just sit down a bit," she suggested and 
led him to a flower adorned gazebo where there was a large bench. It was in
a quiet secluded spot from the rest of the ever present crowd. She watched him sit down. 
"I'll call the Enterprise," she decided and started to pull her communicator
from the small drawstring purse that matched her dress. 

"No, I will be all right. Please, I would prefer to stay here," he answered in a tone she 
hadn't heard before. It almost begged her. She assumed it was because he didn't
want others to see him in this condition. 

Coming over to watch him intently, she started to reach out to feel his forehead before 
remembering that it wouldn't matter what his temperature was, she'd think he
was hot. Her instinct proved the wrong thing to do. He grabbed her hand in an iron grip. 
She was so startled she nearly yelped. Rising to come nose to nose with her,
the eyes that bored into her practically glowed. 

Pulling her close so that he could resume the dance position they had held earlier, he tried 
to maneuver her. "Do you not wish to dance? You said you loved to dance,"
he said after she obviously did not wish to join in.

"Spock, please, let me get you back aboard," she smiled with a plea. He was definitely 
drunk and she was not able to handle him.

"You will dance when we get aboard?" he half asked, half demanded.

Anything to appease him, she nodded and smiled, "Yes, yes, we'll dance and dance." 

"Let's go then," and Spock retrieved her communicator from the bench. 

* * *

The transporter chief was too stunned to say anything to either of them. As Christine led 
the staggering, almost grinning Vulcan out the door, he just shook his head.
The last time they'd been at a planet side dance he'd been on duty. Spock sure did let his 
hair down when he got off ship. 

* * *

Christine steered him toward sickbay. Spock didn't want to go there. He wanted to go to 
the dance floor. "No, this way, Spock," she tried. Spock looked at the
direction she was pointing and thought she meant her cabin. 

A devilish grin spread across his features and Christine's heart fluttered. He was more 
drunk than she had thought. In fact he seemed to get worse as the evening
wore on than more sober. Following her dutifully he started to pass sickbay when she 
halted him. "Let's stop here." 

Spock frowned. Sickbay wasn't a place conducive to dancing. But, she had already gone 
inside and he followed. There was no one on duty at the moment. In fact
there was only a handful of crew aboard at all due to the festivities. Still, he could dance 
with her anywhere. The examining table was between them and he reached
out for her wrist. She almost got it back in time but his superior strength and longer reach 
had her stuck. "Dance, you said we would dance." 

"And so we shall, just do me a little favor and get on the table please," she said with her 
best friendly nurse voice. 

"Hmm, the table. Oh, you want to do horizontal dancing," he realized and fairly hopped 
on the platform. Christine swore her hair turned white at the roots. 

"No, I mean well, uh... I just want to see if you have a fever or something," she excused 
and was rewarded with another devilish grin.

"Oh, I have a fever all right," he practically purred and in the instant he moved to hop 
down on the other side, she was halfway to the door. 

Running like she was being chased by a hungry le-matya waiting for dinner, she headed 
the only direction she knew to go, her cabin. She could get in, lock the door
and hope to hell he would leave. It would have been a sight and if she remembered she 
would have Uhura save the security recordings of that deck to view later. He
was only a couple of meters behind her the entire way. He was a Vulcan and his greater 
speed wasn't really hampered by the inebriated condition. Christine thanked
her parents at least five times that she had been a gifted track and field runner in her 
youth and sprinted to her quarters losing a sandal in the process. She didn't care.
Calling out as she ran, "Computer, unlock doors to Chapel, Christine, Lt." 

The doors were slow, she nearly ran into them in her haste and was telling them to lock 
as soon as she was inside. A thud outside the door told her that Spock had not
been able to keep from slamming into the door. Breathing hard, she started to calm down 
and then the doors parted allowing a swaying Vulcan in. She was doomed. 

"Computer," she tried in a panic, "Dance selection Swing 3." 

The music filled the room and it was loud. Gene Krupa's "Drumboogie" filled the air. 
Spock didn't allow the fast tempo to deter him. Stalking her almost as prey, he
nearly growled, "You said you would dance with me." 

"Yes, I did, and now is the perfect time to teach you some faster numbers," she squeaked. 
She felt like a tiny mouse waiting to be eaten by a large cat. 

Spock's hand grasped her waist roughly then became gentle. He didn't care what the 
dance was. He just wanted her in his arms. Pulling her so close that he could
bury his face in her hair, he whispered, "Christine." 

She moaned lightly. God, she wanted to just jerk his clothes off. But he was married and 
she would not, could not be a husband stealer. Knowing it would be futile to
resist his dancing anyway, she just gritted her teeth and started running scientific 
equations through her mind to keep calm. Thinking that if she just stayed dancing, he
would at least calm down, she started to sway back and forth and put her arms around his 
neck. 

Smiling, she looked as convincing as possible. Spock breathed in her perfume. She 
smelled of lilacs and powder. Her skin was smooth and flawless, the hair soft and
luxurious. She was a woman who had given him respect as a being, she hadn't treated 
him the way T'Pring had done. At the mere thought of his ex-betrothed he
growled deep inside. 

Christine's heart gripped in fear thinking it was aimed at her. So this was what the jokes 
about Vulcans and their mating habits were about. If she survived she'd write
it down in a journal for further research. 

Spock allowed her to guide him around the room. The tempo of music was contrary to 
their movements, but he didn't care. Eventually, the song ended and another
began, but he was growing weary of standing upright and eyed the perfectly straightened 
bed. He just wanted to lie down. 

As he pushed her to the bunk, she was on the verge of screaming -- though who would 
hear her she didn't know -- when he straightened oddly. Something was
wrong. He felt so strange. He'd never felt this way before. It was almost an out of body 
experience.

Christine was between him and the bed when he began to fall forward. Her strength and 
positioning was no match for his, and as he tumbled forward, he pinned her
lying on the bed. Spock was not a heavy man, but heavy enough for her not to be able to 
move. He had passed out and was a dead weight. She could neither wiggle
out from under or shove him off her. She was stuck till he roused. Having tended him in 
sickbay she knew he was a heavy and sound sleeper. He could stay like this
for days. 

"Help!" she called, knowing no one would answer. "Spock ... can you hear me?" 

The music continued as he slept peacefully with his head pillowed on the nurse's chest. 
She was exhausted with the idiocy of the situation. Deciding that there was
nothing else for her to do, she said wearily, "Computer, stop music and turn off lights. I 
might as well go to sleep." 

* * *

Leonard McCoy woke up in his cabin, but he really didn't remember getting there. A half 
drunk glass of something blue sat on his bedside shelf and he didn't even
want to think of sniffing it. It had been a pretty good evening apparently if he didn't 
remember any of it. Heading for the shower, he wondered if the rest of the crew
were in as bad a shape. Most of the crew should be back aboard. 

Dressing and taking a tablet to help his head and stomach, he ventured out in the hall to 
sickbay. Halfway there he ran across a woman's shoe in the middle of the hall.
He thought he recognized it but wasn't sure. Picking it up, he toted it with him to sickbay. 
The doors parted to reveal a slight mess. A set of the tapes that had been
sitting on the little desk that Christine normally occupied was scattered on the floor and a 
dark red drawstring purse was lying on one of the exam tables that had been
turned on to Vulcan norm settings and then left to idle. 

He frowned. Christine wasn't careless about leaving the equipment on needlessly. 
Thinking he'd better find her to ask what was going on, he checked her location
first, "Computer, location of Nurse Chapel?" 

"Nurse Chapel is in her quarters," replied the disembodied voice.

McCoy took the purse and the shoe with him down the corridor. Her door swung open 
without him even chiming. That was unusual as well. He could hear a soft
moan, almost a rasping sound coming from the room and thinking she was ill, he ordered 
the lights up. 

The sight of one bedraggled nurse laboring to breathe under a still unconscious Vulcan 
was priceless. Laughing slightly, he went over to wake Christine. One foot was
shoeless and he thought of slipping it back on her. "Come on, Cinderella..." 

"Leonard, oh, Leonard, get him off me," she cried in despair, and McCoy rolled Spock 
onto his back allowing the nurse to clamber out. 

"Have you been here all night?" 

She was trying to loosen up the stiff limbs from staying in one position so long. "I don't 
know when we got here, but yes, he passed out like that and I went ahead and
went to sleep. I'll tell you about it in a minute. See if you can do something about him." 

She went into the bath, changed into a fresh uniform, and tried to appear half dignified. 
Coming out, she was still concerned over the Vulcan's health as she related the
evening's events.

"You mean, he was chasing you through the deck, and you ran from him?" McCoy said 
incredulously. 

She was outraged and the ire was evident in the reddening cheeks, "Well, yes, I mean, 
one, he's drunk and, two ... he's married. You went down there with him." 

McCoy started laughing so hard that he thought he was going to die. "Christine, oh man, 
you're gonna kill me." 

"What?" 

"He's not married. He's divorced. That woman he said was his wife wouldn't have 
anything to do with him. You passed up the opportunity..." he began.

And she finished, "Of a lifetime." 

Her howl of disappointment finally roused the Vulcan. Rolling over, he was cold. This 
was not his cabin, and he was sick, so sick. Seeing the two medical personnel
leaning over him, he assumed they had come because he was ill. "I seem to require your 
services." 

"I'll just bet you do. Come on, Spock, can you travel? We'll get you to sickbay." 

Spock nodded weakly and had to be supported by both of them to get to the infirmary. He 
didn't ask why he was in the nurse's cabin. In fact he didn't know what
cabin he had been in. He could feel his stomach protesting against the contents it held and 
he barely made it to the basin before everything came up. Christine was so
disgusted she didn't even want to hand him a towel. It wasn't every day she could get her 
hands on the man of her dreams and now she'd screwed the whole thing up.

Spock's expression was one of utter misery. "What did I do last night?" he asked, 
completely unable to recall anything. 

She sighed, "I can only tell you one thing for certain, Vulcan's shouldn't drink Altair 
Spring Water."

He nodded and bent back over the basin. Never again...

FIN

   DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters are the property of Paramount Studios, Inc. The 
story contents are the creation and property of T'Kuht and is copyright
(c) 2001 by T'Kuht. If you will remember some of my first entries here ... "A Fine 
Romance" and the sequel "The Gay Divorcee", this is the third and final section of
the series. So, it goes after The Gay Divorcee... .Thanks, T'Kuht As usual, I don't own 
this song, the people or the rights to collect any money out of it. The sighs and
giggles are free. 

Night and Day

T'Kuht

Starfleet Headquarters was a madhouse. With the signing of the peace treaty at Khitomer 
and the incoming USS Enterprise to be decommissioned, the usually
carefully controlled chaos was let loose. There were demands for receptions, restitutions, 
requisitions, inquisitions, and the general melee of activity when an old
adversary suddenly becomes a bosom companion. There were relief ships already being 
sent to Praxus and the Klingon home worlds. Dr. Christine Chapel, Chief
Emergency Medical Officer for Starfleet, was trying to keep from going insane. She was 
getting down to sending ore ships to rendezvous medical supplies and
personnel. Pushing the shorter brown curls away from her face, she closed her eyes 
against the onslaught and tried counting slowly to ten. She didn't hear Admiral
Cavecci come from behind her. "Dr. Chapel?"

She tried not to jump. "Yes, just trying to get the red out of these eyes."

"Blue and red don't go very well together. You should get some rest. I wanted to set up an 
appointment with you at your earliest convenience. I have some important
news to discuss with you," the greying Italian-born, Martian-raised Admiral said. 

Straightening in her chair she nodded, "I have an hour free tomorrow after 1400 hours. 
Will that be satisfactory?"

"Yes. Now for the fun part. Are you attending the party when the Enterprise gets in?" he 
asked, knowing she had been a member of its crew for nearly ten years.

"I've already got the bells on for this one. I wouldn't miss it for anything. You know, it's 
odd. I have been stationed here at HQ for almost eight years and haven't been
a member of the crew since 2281, but I still feel like I'm one of them. I guess I always 
will," she said wistfully. There was a hint of silver in the hair and mature laugh
lines around the eyes, but she was still the prettiest and most sought after commanders in 
the building. 

"I understand the feeling. I still miss my crews and my ships. But, we've got to make 
room for the young, you know," he reminded. 

"I suppose."

1400 hours arrived and Christine was glad for the relief. She handed her duties over 
gratefully to her second in command and went to Admiral Cavecci's office.
"Come in please," he said and showed her to a seat. Christine nodded and sat in the 
comfortable leather chair. The view of San Francisco Bay was magnificent from
his office. "I wanted to discuss a few things with you. According to your records, you 
have been serving as Chief Emergency Medical Officer now for five years.
Have you found the post satisfactory?"

Christine was a little confused. She held her breath. "Yes, I enjoy the work immensely. Is 
there a problem with my performance, sir?"

"No, no. On the contrary," he began and then restated his remarks. "You are aware that 
Dr. John C. Everett is retiring at the end of this month." Christine nodded. Dr.
Everett was the current Surgeon General. "I am recommending you for the position."

Her mouth had to be open. She had to be slumped forward in the chair. She had to be 
drooling, her ... Surgeon General. "I ... don't know what to say, sir!"

"Well, yes would be nice. In fact I might as well let you in. If you want it, you've got it no 
questions asked," he said not able to hide his grin.

She just nodded. "Want it? Yes, I want it. When do I start?"

"Well, you'll have to be approved, that's a moot point really. But you'll have to get your 
second in command up to speed and be ready to spend intensive training with
Everett until he leaves. I'll let you have a couple days off for the party and then you've got 
work to do."

Her blue eyes were nearly fluorescent with glee. Her heart was pounding so hard she 
figured she'd die before getting to step foot in her office. Her office. She
realized she would get the same view that Cavecci had. "Wow..."

"I know the office is a great perk," he answered, not needing to know what she was 
thinking. The way she looked around the room was enough. 

"Well, unless there are other questions, I would like to get ready for this reception. I had 
hoped you could see me before then. I'm sure you'll want to let your old
friends know."

"Old friends, yes, it will be such a surprise," she was smiling so much she had to 
remember to relax her muscles. Cloud 9 was some twenty clouds down. Rising from
the chair, she gave a smart salute, "Admiral."

"And the same to you. Remember the position of Surgeon General also comes with an 
upgrade. You are, well, unofficially, Rear Admiral Christine Chapel."

Christine just shook her head and exited. Things were picking up so fast. But she had a 
reception to prepare for and had to keep from hyperventilating to get ready.

It seemed like everyone who had anything to do with the Enterprise past or future was at 
the reception held for its decommissioning. Buffet tables were set up at the
four corners of the huge cargo holds that had been opened, scrubbed and polished for the 
event. People milled about in one section, an impromptu dance floor was set
up in the middle, but there were no dancers yet. The music wouldn't start for another 
hour. Christine found her way easily through the ship. It was like a high school
reunion. She found Uhura first, the communications officer was enjoying the company of 
several of the older crew and welcomed Christine with glee. "You made it!"

"I'd have to be dead to miss it," Christine grinned widely. It was so good to see her. 
Janice Rand was on the Excelsior with Hikaru Sulu, they wouldn't be able to
attend, but they were there in spirit. 

"I have something I have to tell you, but I want to wait till later when I can get more of 
the old gang together for the news," Christine hinted, wanting to see all their
faces at once. 

"Yes, Rear Admiral Chapel," Uhura said stonily. 

The doctor was shocked and downcast. "How..."

"I'm in gossip central, silly goose. Don't worry, I didn't get the blurb till today and I 
haven't told a soul. You deserve it, honey. I am so proud of you. I'll be down the
hall, you know. I got my commission to Secret Intelligence."

"Oh, no, the two of us together with the commissary here. We'll be so heavy we won't be 
able to get through the doors," the doctor laughed. On the Enterprise, they'd
spent many a nights eating their way through helpings of ice cream. 

"Then they'll just have to build them bigger won't they. Ambassador Sarek is even here. I 
had thought he would be still at Khitomer, but for some reason he decided to
ride back with us instead. I don't think he is in the best of health. He seemed to be tired 
all the time," Nyota noted as the dignified Vulcan made his way through the
crowd. Christine could see the slowness in his gait. He was considered just beyond 
middle aged for a Vulcan, but Uhura's summation was correct. He didn't look well.
Following a little further behind than she preferred was Lady Amanda. She was so frail 
and fragile she looked almost like a piece of antique glass. The white hair was
gorgeous and Christine couldn't help but smile. "Spock's mother is here as well. Let's go 
say hello. I haven't seen her in a few years."

The last time Uhura had been able to speak to Amanda at length had been when Spock's 
body had been en route to Vulcan for his fal-tor-pan. She had enjoyed the
time immensely even though the circumstances were not pleasant. 

Sarek and Amanda had headed for the buffet table that Kirk, Spock, and McCoy were 
hovering around. The two women approached and was greeted with warm
hugs and smiles from the humans. The two Vulcans nodded their pleasure at seeing them. 
Spock seemed a bit preoccupied. But from what Christine had heard of the
goings on at Khitomer he had good reason to be. Her blue eyes caught his for a moment, 
and they gleamed with an inner light. He responded with an upswept
eyebrow. The group chatted happily until finally Uhura couldn't stand it anymore. "Tell 
them, Christine." 

"Uhura, not now," the tall brunette said, not wanting call attention to herself.

"Fine, I'll tell them. Christine has news..." she began before Christine stopped her.

"I'll tell them," and she hesitated which caused the four that were in the dark to nearly 
lean forward in anticipation. "Admiral Cavecci informed me that, unofficially, I
am taking over the duties of Dr. Everett when he retires."

It took about fifteen seconds for them to realize who Dr. Everett was. McCoy had her in a 
strangle hold. "That's my girl!"

Jim Kirk was pumping one hand up and down like a thirsty man looking for water and 
Amanda was clapping softly. "Brava."

Captain Spock's eyebrow went up even further. "Congratulations, Admiral Chapel."

"Rear..." she corrected. Ambassador Sarek gave her his congratulatory speech and even 
offered his hand to shake, but she didn't take it and offered the Vulcan salute
instead. 

The atmosphere was decidedly giddy. The group stayed together for a long time before 
mixing with the other members of the crew and admiralty and reporters.
Spock found himself looking through the crowd and following the doctor's trail. It was 
not hard to find her. She was tall and regal in her dress uniform and the relaxed
regulation hairstyle. She was so much more lovely than she had ever appeared to him. He 
was seeing her for perhaps the first time and he'd known her for nearly
thirty-five years. Perhaps it was the new position she was in and the one that he had just 
left. 

At 2100 the dance was to formally begin and the houselights were turned down except to 
illuminate the dance floor and leave the buffet tables and surrounding lounge
areas in near twilight. Spock found himself over with his parents near the set of punch 
bowls that took up one whole buffet. The conversation was of his upcoming
retirement. He had already agreed to becoming a junior Ambassador under his father's 
tutelage. He had found the negotiations with the Klingons to be fascinating.
Now, he hoped to be of further use to the Federation. He was not ready to sit and garden 
for the rest of his life. His father was actually pleased with his son and his
mother was happy that she had lived long enough to witness this historic occasion. The 
music starting threw a sort of quiet air over the crowd and after a few
numbers, an earnest group of people were on the floor. 

Spock found Christine Chapel at his elbow trying to get to the bowl of punch that he was 
standing in front of. Her smile brightened the area. Her eyes glistened in the
light and her voice was so sweet and soft. "Captain Spock, I did not get a chance to 
congratulate you on your new posting at the Vulcan Embassy. I hope you find it
rewarding."

Spock nodded his thanks. "I believe I am now ready to try new avenues in my life."

"That's good. I'm pleased," she said as she took a sip of punch. "Will you be staying at the 
Vulcan Embassy?"

She nearly winced at the question she asked. Good grief, that was nosey. Spock, 
however, did not seem to take it as such. "I will be taking up residence outside the
Embassy. I find that I wish to taste freedom in certain forms."

Again she smiled, he was so relaxed now. She was relaxed as well in his presence. The 
nerves she always seemed to have had melted away somewhere. They stood
in silence for a time. Amanda and Sarek conversed with her further about her upcoming 
change of duties. The atmosphere was so congenial and easy going. Spock
found himself only half listening to what was being said. He paid apt attention to the 
physician's face and manner. Why did it feel as if he'd never met her before? His
hearing picked out the opening strains of a familiar tune. He reacted before he thought 
about it. Grasping Christine's elbow, he was careful not to jostle the hand with
the punch. "Shall we dance?" he suggested. 

Christine nearly dropped her cup. She hadn't danced with him in twenty years and those 
two times had been dismal failures. Well, there was the night they danced till
10 in the morning, but still it didn't start out well. Giving a slight smile to a plainly 
shocked Amanda and slightly abashed Sarek, she allowed the Vulcan to lead the
startled doctor out onto the floor. 

Spock pulled her close. She was nearly nose to nose with him. He had her right hand 
pulled between them at his breast and the other hand was slipped snugly around
her waist. They were almost dancing ballroom regulation close, there was no light 
between them. They didn't realize they were being watched practically opened
mouthed by nearly every other person in the room. Basically the dance floor stopped and 
allowed them to take center stage. Christine was strangely aware that there
was something different about this dance. She could feel something strange. It was not a 
physical thing that she could pinpoint. It was an aura about him. He held her
as if he wanted to dance not out of politeness or because he owed her a dance, but 
because he actually wanted to hold her close and sway to the music. He had
improved as well. His flow and rhythm were easy and gentle. The music had not really 
registered with her. But she found that he was humming the melody and she
tried hard to place the words but couldn't. It was a standard that was played at nearly 
every dance. 

Finally, as they maneuvered around the floor again, his voice in a low baritone filled in 
the words... "Night and day, you are the one. Only you beneath the moon and
under the sun.. " and then his words stopped, and Christine was afraid she might faint in 
his arms. Pulling slightly back from him she peered into the dark brown eyes
that were usually inscrutable and found there was a spark there. He meant what he had 
sung and meant it for her. Her heart froze and for a moment she feared it had
seized up completely. If he knew what he was doing... but if he didn't she'd be certain to 
kill him when they finished. 

The song came to a winding conclusion and Spock did something else she never, ever in 
her wildest dreams and scenarios imagined him doing. He allowed her to whirl
out away from him, pulled her back and dipped her low and passionately toward the 
floor. With the ease of a father carrying a child, he straightened her back up onto
legs that didn't want to stand steady. She was so flabbergasted she was certain it was all a 
dream, a hoax, a cruel thing to her already heartsick brain. 

The applause and the whistles from the surrounding crowd filtered into them and 
Christine was a little embarrassed. Spock held her hand tightly, a sign he had no
intention of letting her go. She stayed put. He seemed to be warring between himself and 
someone or something else. With brows knit closely together, he almost spat,
"Oh, Hell," and pulled her forward into a kiss so passionate that she knew she was going 
to faint or at least be lightheaded for the duration of the evening. 

The room was in pandemonium. Over to the side, his mother was genuinely crying she 
was so happy. She had always known Christine was a perfect choice for
Spock. She just hadn't thought she'd see the day Spock would realize it. Sarek even 
seemed to approve, even if he did disapprove of the public display. Uhura was
pondering what color dress Christine would pick for her to wear and crying as well. It 
had taken 35 years to bring this romance together. When Spock released her, he
seemed to realize what he had done. Quickly they left the dance floor to be surrounded by 
people. Christine wanted to ask what was going on. She was confused and
a little disoriented as well. This was definitely not what she had expected. 

"Spock," she tried to stammer but the din of the crowd was almost too much for her. 

"Come with me," he stated and led her out into the corridor to leave a crew wishing they 
all had glasses they could put against the bulkhead to listen in. Half tripping,
half skipping, she followed him out, still being held by that powerful yet gentle hand. 

Out in the corridor there wasn't that much privacy either. Her expression was one of 
disbelief and complete shock, "Spock, what ... have you been at the Altair Spring
Water again?"

He shook his head emphatically. "No, I have not. However, I can only tell you that the 
sensations I am feeling are almost as strong as if I had."

Christine thought it might be a medical problem. "I'll get Leonard. Maybe he can figure 
out..."

"Woman," he nearly growled. How dense could she be or how blind? But somewhere his 
mind was saying that she'd been rejected by him so many times how could
he explain fully, and she believe him. His eyes were determined and but had a soft haze 
to them. "This is not the place to discuss this."

"No?" she half asked and half agreed. 

He thought of somewhere close that would be private for his needs. His cabin was still 
unlocked although all of his things had been removed and shipped already.
"Come with me," he said and started down the hall. He practically pulled her five feet 
before he realized she wasn't following. He turned back, the most hurt look in
his eyes. "You reject me?"

She allowed the possible meanings of his words to sink in. "No, I guess I just don't 
understand, that's all."

"I will explain. But not here," he answered and let go of her hand. She followed this time 
without hesitation. 

The corridors were quiet after they got so far away from the cargo hold. The ship seemed 
... lonely. There were no crewmen hustling along, no sounds of engine
noises or other activities. Christine didn't like it very well. Spock ushered her into what 
had been his home for the last 4 years. It was once again back to standard
issue with no sign he had been its occupant. It was still a comfortable room even without 
his fire pots and candles. 

Christine allowed the door to close behind her before asking, "Okay, what was that 
about?"

Spock didn't face her, he went to where the traditional teapot had stood and wished it had 
been there. He needed a drink of something. How to tell her, where to
begin? "Christine, I have been a fool," he began after a long moment. 

"How so, Spock? I don't believe I would have ever placed you in that category," she 
reassured and tried to figure out what was going on. 

"I have known you for 34 years. Perhaps I should rephrase that. I have known your name 
for 34 years, but I did not know you until this evening. Perhaps that is not
correct either," he stumbled and found himself falling all over himself. Perhaps being 
straightforward would be best. "I wish to marry you."

Christine sat down. The problem was there was no chair for her to sit on and she ended 
up on the floor. Spock held out his hand, but she did not take it. 

She decided that the floor was a really good place to stay for awhile. "Spock, there's got 
to be something wrong... You've barely been able to be around me for the 34
years we've known each other. I realize I didn't help the situation..."

He gestured for her to stop. "I am not drunk, nor am I delusional, or ill. How to explain 
when I am not certain myself? You know of Valeris?"

Christine nodded. Everyone knew about Valeris, the pride of Starfleet and the horror of 
the Federation. Spock continued slowly, "She sought out my company, first as
a student and then as a companion. I was blinded by her pure logic and credentials. I was, 
to coin an Earth phrase, viewing her through rose-colored glasses. I was
closer to her than anyone else, I thought, and I did not have a clue what she was up to. I 
made her privy to information, personal and official that I should not have. I
made a tremendous error in judgment. I judged her as superior because she was Vulcan. 
Can you understand that?"

Christine nodded. Most everyone considered her above reproach due to her Vulcan 
heritage. How wrong they had been. "Spock, you can't blame yourself for the turn
of events."

"But I can. I, me, I led my closest and oldest friends into a situation that almost cost them 
their lives and the Federation its security. But that is not what I wish to
speak to you about. Valeris' betrayal was more than that of a teacher and student."

Christine's eyes widened at the revelation. "You loved her didn't you?"

Spock protested at the word love. "I would use the term smitten. I found that she was 
acceptable and attractive for her beliefs and background."

"I'm sorry, truly. You know, I understand what it's like to be jilted."

Spock nodded and squatted down to her level on the floor. "I have been seeking someone 
who would be as loyal to me as I to them. She's been before me for 34
years. That is why I am such a fool."

Christine regarded the carpet. This was so unreal. "Spock, did you ever think that I'm not 
loyal? I've not precisely been alone all these years," she suggested.

"But you are not married, have never married. You have always been available. Is that an 
error in my reasoning? You have not married because you still loved me?"

"Yes," the simple three letter word was the most joyous sound he had heard in a very 
long time. "But Spock, like you said, you don't know me. How do you know I am
the one you seek?"

"You forget that we once shared consciousness. I shielded myself as best I could from 
your mind, but I remember what it was like. You hold no secret desires or
treachery. At least you did not at one time. Perhaps I have waited too long. Perhaps I can 
not have what I finally found." His face was downtrodden and questioning.
When he had seen her that evening, and she was her own woman, accomplished, 
beautiful, and strong, he had known what he should have decades ago. 

Christine looked at the almost mournful Vulcan and with a tender smile, picked his chin 
up from its floorward position. Looking him straight in the eye and without
hesitation, "It is never too late."

Spock was almost afraid to say the next words. "Then you will marry me?"

"Yes, how can I say no?" They stayed in those positions for a long time, Spock on his 
haunches, Christine cross legged. Now that he had gotten what he had wanted
out, it was as if there was nothing left to say. Finally she laughed, a delighted easy laugh, 
"What a day, first an Admiralty and now a marriage proposal."

"I'm marrying you for your office view," he teased and found her rolling on the floor in 
tears of hysterics. He had never teased her and she loved it. She loved every
moment of it. 

"So, does Uhura know about this too?" she asked. Spock shook his head. No one knew. 
How could they have when he did not know it himself until just an hour ago?
"Perhaps we should return to the dance. They will wonder where we have gone."

Christine nodded. "I'll just bet they will and they'll have a lot of questions too. I hope you 
have more answers than I do."

Spock took her hand to help her up. They stood facing each other and for the first time 
Spock was holding onto someone who would not refuse him, never betray him,
never hurt him. He found the feelings in him almost too powerful to handle. He took a 
half step forward and hesitantly kissed her. He was almost afraid to. What if
she said no.... Her answer was to pull him closer and drape her arms around his neck. 
With her height, she had no trouble keeping contact with him. She was finally in
his arms and he was hers. Letting the kiss linger a moment, she smiled and as they parted 
brushed her nose against his playfully. "So are these the new avenues you
wished to explore?" she asked remembering the statement earlier. 

"Yes, one of them. I think you might be right up my alley."

"Well, it's a one way street, you know. Once I am your wife, there is no going back," she 
promised.

"I don't intend to," he promised as well and took her in his arms. "Computer, dance 
selection 9-a."

"It's very clear, our love is here to stay. Not for a year, but ever and a day... The radio and 
the telephone and the movies that we know may just be passing fancies
and in time may go. But oh, my dear, our love is here to stay..."

They never returned to the dance. 

FIN