Stick Together 

	“Spock I thought what you said was… appropriate,” Leonard McCoy remarked.  For once all the fight was out of the doctor and he meant what he said.  
	“You do not wish to know why I chose the poem?” Spock asked hoping to see some spark of life in his old friend. 
	McCoy swallowed the rest of his bourbon trying to swallow the huge lump in his throat.  He nearly choked, “Doesn’t really matter anymore does it?”
	Spock watched him walk off, grab a full bottle of brandy, and head out to the open balcony.  The Vulcan had hoped that if he held the wake at the Vulcan Embassy it would make things easier for the retired crew and special friends of Jim Kirk.  It was neutral ground after all but it didn’t help.  Setting his own glass of sparkling wine down he approached Dr. Chapel talking to Nyota Uhura, and Drs. Gillian Taylor and Carol Marcus.  He tapped Dr. Chapel on the arm. “Christine could you see to Dr. McCoy?” he requested quietly.  
	Chapel looked out at the balcony, “He’s all right.”
	“You are certain?” Spock asked unsure they were seeing the same thing.
	Christine placed her hand on Spock’s forearm, “Trust me.”
	Spock nodded, “Implicitly.  Ladies if you will excuse me.”
	He went over to speak to his father who was also speaking to Chekov.  Uhura looked over her drink at the departing Vulcan, “Anything you want to tell Auntie Ny?”
	Christine was clueless, “Huh?”
	“Since when has Spock voluntarily called you Christine in public and let you touch him?”
	Chapel scoffed, “It’s happened before.”
	“When,” the dark woman pressed while Marcus and Taylor leaned in to hear the answer.
	“Well, lots of times, can’t think of one right off but surely…” she struggled to recall.  
	“How about never,” Uhura pointed out. 
	Chapel shrugged, “So what, after forty years he finally remembered my first name.”
	“He’s known McCoy for just as long and never called him anything by his title or last name,” Uhura insisted. 
	Carol Marcus recalled something, “Jim told me about that. He said he asked Spock why he never called McCoy Leonard.  Spock gave him some ‘logical’ answer that didn’t make a lot of sense, something about not being proper to call an elder by his first name.”  
	“Bullshit,” Taylor commented.  “Where I’m from an analyst would have a field day with that.  Jim and Spock were deep and abiding friends right, like brothers, so close that Jim and you all risked everything to get Spock back from the dead.  For some reason Spock’s transferred that feeling to Christine.”  
	Chapel snorted, “I thought you only knew about whales?”
	Gillian shrugged, “Whales, men, same difference.”
	The ladies laughed at that but Chapel’s was half-hearted, “I think you’re crazy.”
	“And what about his mother,” Uhura reminded, “I mean, he lost his mother last year and now Jim.”
	“So, now I’m a sister and a mother to him?” Christine asked exasperated.  “Really, I think you’re a little off the mark.  I think he’s having a problem adjusting, he’d told me as much when we had dinner in April.  It’s not uncommon to transfer feelings from one person to another when you’re hurting.”
	“Like you did with Roger all those years ago?  Didn’t you turn to Spock afterwards?” Uhura replied.  She didn’t mean it to sound mean but it came out that way.  Chapel fingered her empty glass.  “If you’ll excuse me I’m dry and need a drink.”
	Taylor and Marcus gathered around Uhura to fill in the details as the former Starfleet physician headed across the room.  But halfway across she changed direction and went over to Spock.  “Can I speak to you for a moment?”
	He nodded and excused himself from Sarek and Chekov to follow Chapel, “Yes Christine.”
	His tone was so… inviting that what she was about to say flew out of her brain, “Uh… I’m going to… in case I don’t, no… Oh hell just come to the house for dinner sometime.  Lover keeps asking for you.”
	“I am free Saturday, will that be acceptable?” Spock replied then added, “I would not wish to disappoint the bird.”
	“Yeah sure, dinner’ll be ready at 1800,” she sighed and headed for the bar.  This time she really did need a drink.  

	Saturday was piss pouring rain with light display and house shaking thunder.  It seemed to fit her mood to a tee.  She didn’t know how she’d broach the subject with Spock but what Uhura’d said had plagued her since the memorial.  She wanted Spock’s friendship but not if he saw her as a replacement for Jim Kirk or his mother, that would only destroy what little they did have.  It was 1630 and she put in the already cooked eggplant and zucchini casserole to reheat and went to take a quick shower.  She had just rinsed off when the lights dimmed.  “Great, my luck the power’ll go out.” The main power was off so the house was running solely on the back up generators.  To save energy she decided not to fix her hair and just forget about getting any more dressed up than a casual lounge outfit.  It’d be better anyway.  
	Spock was fashionably early in the embassy skimmer.  “I would have taken the train but the schedule did not match.  I would have had to stay overnight,” Spock explained as he handed her his cloak. 
	“Well no that doesn’t work does it?  Storm knocked the main power out so the low lights are to conserve battery power.  Just didn’t want you to think I’d tried to make this a romantic dinner,” she excused. 
	“I did not have that thought,” Spock assured.  
	“Probably should have cancelled altogether,” Christine grouched.  
	“If this is not a convenient evening I will leave,” Spock replied not wishing to be a pest.  
	Christine shook her head, “No don’t mind me, besides dinner’s ready and Lover’s all worked up.”
	The new cage was larger and took up half the wall in the patio.  As soon as Spock entered the bird perked up, “Cutie!” 
	“Hello Lover,” Spock replied inwardly fascinated, “Does he call everyone Cutie?” 	
	Christine thought a moment, “No I don’t think he does.”  
	“And what does he call Dr. McCoy?” 
	Christine remarked with a chuckle, “Grumpy.”
	“There is merit to the bird’s evaluative ability then,” Spock declared.  
	“I guess. What say we eat and get that over with,” she suggested pleasantly. 
	Spock was puzzled by her choice of words.  They did not match her tone or the previous dinner’s warm reception.  “Christine, is something wrong?”
	“What?  Nothing, let’s just eat while it’s hot,” she insisted. 
	The dining table was set up this time and feeling in the way Spock took the seat he assumed was his and poured a glass full out of the carafe of unsweetened tea she’d prepared.  Chapel returned with the plates already served up and set his in front of him with a smile, “Bon appetite.”
	She had no fear the casserole wasn’t finished cooking.  Since she’d actually prepared it the day before it was better after sitting like most casseroles were.  Christine took her seat and started on her meal.  She was half through with hers when she realized Spock had not even touched his.  Swallowing she asked, “Don’t like eggplant?”
	Spock set his napkin beside his plate, “It is obvious you are not comfortable.  Has something happened?”  
	“No,” Christine lied badly.  
Spock saw through it immediately, “Then it is something I have done.”
“Uh,” she stalled, “why would you say that?”
Spock steepled his fingers in his traditional fashion and began to analyze, “When I was here previously you were warm, sincere in your congeniality.  Since I have arrived you’ve forced yourself to smile and your statements indicate you’re anxious to have the evening over with.  If you did not wish me for dinner why did you invite me?”
Christine let out a held breath noisily, “You’re right, I have been insincere.  But it’s because I don’t know how to ask a really simple question.”
“Which is?”
“Why did you start calling me Christine?” 
Spock was taken aback.  “It is your given name and have you not requested I call you that in the past?”
“Well yes, but that was a long time ago,” Chapel pointed out.  “I’ve not asked you to do that lately.”
“I will refrain from doing so if it now bothers you,” Spock agreed unable to see what the problem was. 
Christine tossed the napkin onto her plate and scraped her chair back.  In a near huff she hugged herself as she stomped around, “Hell I didn’t even realize you were doing it until Nyota made a big deal out of it at Captain Kirk’s wake.  Just forget the whole thing and call me what you want and eat your dinner.”
“Why should it matter to Miss Uhura what I call you?” Spock asked.  
“She has some damned goofy idea that it has ‘hidden’ meanings.  She says the only other person you ever addressed by their first name was Kirk.  Then Gillian Taylor insisted that psychologically now that he’s gone you’ve for some reason transferred the attachment to me.  It’s just gotten to me that’s all,” Christine sighed and sat back down.  
Spock considered her words, “And you believed them that easily?”
Christine was loathe to admit it but felt complete honesty was the only way to go, “I believed them because I’d done the same thing myself to you forty years ago and it’s plagued me since.” 
“You refer to the affection you claimed to have for me?” Spock asked. 
She nodded, “It’s not that I wasn’t telling you the truth then, but hindsight is 20/20 as they say and from where I sit now I can see what I was doing.  Hell I could see what I was doing then, but it didn’t matter.  By replacing Roger with you in my heart I got by.  I also put both of us in awkward positions, and I’m always going to be sorry for that.  It’s made it nearly impossible for me to look at you and see us as friends.”
Spock digested the revelation, “Then I do not understand why you asked me to dinner tonight?”
“Because I’d really like us to be friends,” she insisted, “It was more than nice having you to talk to the other night and not expect anything more than that.  Carl, he was the last in a long line of associates who thought that being my friend also meant being in my bed.  I’m so tired of having sex interfere with whatever relationship with a man I have.  I’m not twenty-five anymore.  Hell, I’m not even fifty-five and I’d just like someone to eat dinner with, someone to take a walk with or complain to who knows where they live and isn’t afraid to sleep alone in their own bed.  Not that you wouldn’t be welcome to spend the night.  I do have a nice guest room.”    
The Vulcan didn’t know whether he was being insulted or complimented, “And you assume that by Miss Uhura’s comments and Dr. Taylor’s assertions that I have other than honorable intentions in my mind?”
“No, well, I don’t know.  You have gone through a lot the last year,” she pointed out lamely.
“I assure you Jim’s death has not sent me over the ‘deep end’.  Neither have I done as Dr. McCoy accused and begun to think of you as a ‘mother’ figure.  But I find I also need a friendship such as you describe.  Jim and I had grown apart since our retirement and we were not as close as in the past.  We had each gone our separate ways with our own lives to lead. While I grieve the loss of a part of me, he was not the sum total of my existence.  At times though I forget that he is no longer there and it is only after I begin to send him a message do I realize I am in error.  It is distressing.  As for my mother,” Spock paused, “no one could ever take her place in my mind.  But she and Jim shared a common link.  Each allowed me to be myself, no matter what that might be.  I realized at the hospital when you made no comment on my emotional display but accepted it that there were others I could have such a link with.  It is true that I wish a relationship with you, but it is one of mutual friendship not a romantic liaison.  Also, I find it easy to discuss common professional interests with you.  I tire of constant diplomatic discussions.”  	
Christine’s smile was one of relief, “Then it sounds like we’ve put our arguments on the table, negotiated, and come to a mutual conclusion.  Or is that too diplomatic for you?”
“No, it is not,” Spock replied also relieved.  He looked down at his plate and tasted the dish, now a little cold but still delicious.  He cleaned the plate easily and with innocent eyes asked, “Is there more?”
“Yes,” she said with a laugh and went to retrieve the pan.  The whole evening was a bit overwhelming and she began to cry.  Trying to get hold of herself she spent a little too long in the kitchen and Spock came to find her.  He was concerned she’d burnt her hand, “You have hurt yourself?”
“No, I’m just relieved that’s all,” she sniffed.  “I don’t play chess but I’m a whiz at dominoes.”  
“There is a similar game on Vulcan.  Perhaps you would enjoy that as well?” Spock suggested.  
“I’ll try anything once,” she said. 
“I shall remember that Christine,” he promised, “or would you prefer Dr. Chapel?” 
“I don’t care, as long as you remember to use it.  And is just plain Spock fine with you or do you have some other preference?”
“Spock is perfectly acceptable,” a noise from the patio caught his attention and he added with a bit of teasing, “as is Cutie.”
Christine laughed delighted, “Well I’m glad you’re not offended by my bird.” 
“A most unusual bird,” Spock answered.
“And you my dearest friend Spock are a bird out of this world,” she declared and handed him the pan so they could begin their first evening as friends.