Stormy Weather	

	The storm clouds gathering didn’t appear too ominous when Spock walked down the street.  Small droplets began to hit him, and he quickened his pace.  He did not particularly relish the idea of getting wet before he made it to cover.  According to the schedule, he would be alone in the house with Chapel.  Rand wouldn’t arrive home for several hours, and Uhura had a late class.  Making it to the carport, he ducked under just in time to keep from getting soaked.  The downpour would surely be short lived, he thought as he shook what drops had hit him off his uniform and headed into his section of the house.  The red T-top skimmer was in its usual place so he knew that Chapel was home already.  
	On the roof, the flailing Chapel was trying to gather everything up as she fought the onslaught of rain.  She’d been sunbathing nude for fifteen minutes when the clouds started appearing.  She’d heard the forecast and thought she had plenty of time to stay out before having to head in.  They had been wrong.  Grabbing the towel, glass of tea, and the book she had brought up to amuse herself with, she hurried in with a yowl, “ARGHHH!”
	Down in the kitchen, Spock heard her.  He raised his voice, “Are you injured?”
	“Uh…no…just…uhm, wet.  I didn’t make it inside in time,” she said back and quickly pulled the towel around her.  She might be a modern woman, but she still had modesty.  She also figured that Spock would chastise her for exposing herself to the UV rays.  Hurrying to get into the safety of her bedroom, she decided to go ahead and shower.  It was obvious she wouldn’t do anymore sunning for the day, and she’d have to get the oils off.  The hot water felt a little overpowering, so she turned it more to the lukewarm side.  Soaping herself up, she turned the water off to allow the conditioner to work in her tangle of curls.  Before she could get the water back on, the lights went out.  She remembered that it wasn’t wise to use water in a storm.   “Great!” she groaned and waited.  Ten minutes later she was still waiting when a horrendous crack outside nearly sent her to her knees and instinctively drew a scream.  With a sick feeling she realized she was going to be soaped up for a while.  Grabbing a towel, she pushed more soap away from her eyes.  They were beginning to sting.  
Heading out to the bedroom, she nearly ran into Spock.  He had heard her, “Are you all right?”
	“Yes, just head to toe in soap and no way to get it off,” she grumbled and not only because she was beginning to itch.  Spock had never walked into her room without her permission. In fact, he had never walked into her room.  
	“You could go stand under the drain spout,” he suggested a little comically.  She looked at him with a wary expression.  It wasn’t exactly his usual type of suggestion, but it was logical.  “Well, I’d at least get the soap out, and they say that rainwater is good for the hair…” She headed back up the spiral stairs with another towel and her robe.  Spock watched her ascend and then went back down.  The house was getting dark.  With the electricity off there would be nothing to illuminate the house.  He thought about emergency lights and went in search of either flashlights or candles.  
	The night wore on.  The lights showed no sign of returning, even after the rain essentially died down to a dull pounding.  “Must have gotten the transformer or the main line,” Chapel surmised as she settled down against the couch.  The only light came from the fire pit.  Spock had found the flashlights, but to conserve the batteries, he did not keep them turned on.  The old grandfather clock that had stood unobtrusively for years in a corner chimed eight o’clock. If Jan’s shift had ended on time, she would be home anytime.  But, she was probably stuck at HQ and wouldn’t be in.  
	Christine popped another of the cold pieces of deep fried chicken bits in her mouth.  They were fully cooked, and it was no different than eating cold fried chicken at a picnic.  Spock appeared with the other items that they had scrounged around in the fridge for.  It was not the supper that she had planned, but it was edible and rather nice.  Spock sat stiffly in the chair that was adjacent to the fire pit.  He had found a bowl of grapes and some plums.  He would have stayed in his rooms where the firepot was still glowing for illumination, but the roar of the surf was nearly overwhelming.  With the white sound device out of order, he preferred to be above ground.  They were quietly enjoying what food they had found when a sound downstairs caught their attention.  Jan had made it home, “Good GOD!”
	“We’re up here,” Christine said with a laugh.  Rand answered, “Can I get some light down here?”
	Spock complied and took the flashlight over to shine it down the stairs.  Janice stood there holding a pizza box and a carry case.  She stumbled up the steps as blindly as she could, considering that Spock was holding the light practically in her eyes plus she was trying to carry the stuff up.  Holding the carry case up as she reached the top of the steps, he took it from her.  It was a case of the imported beer that he’d seen them indulging in during some of their ‘grill’ days.  “There are stores open?” he asked as she passed.
	“Yeah, this area is the only place that doesn’t have any lights yet.  I checked before I started home, and it looks like we’re out for the night at least.  The lightning hit the main transformer and blew everything.  Thought we could enjoy the night life anyway,” she said and set the pizza down in front of Chapel.  Christine immediately put the chicken aside and flipped up the top.  The heavenly aroma of hot pizza made her mouth water, “What kind is it?”
	“Does it matter?” the blonde asked.
	“No, get me a napkin or a plate or something.  Can Spock eat it?” she asked.
	“Just for him I got the vegetarian special.  I think there is nearly everything on there that shouldn’t be on a pizza including spinach and broccoli,” she groused.  
	“Mmm, I love broccoli on pizza,” Christine said as if to give Spock support.  It sounded a little trite, but she did like broccoli on her pizza.  
	“You should not have gone to the trouble.  I am able to forego meals for an extended period of time,” Spock explained although there was no need.  He sat down to peruse the selection.  It looked and smelled good.  He would not balk much at being offered some of it.  
	“Eat it.  That’s an order,” Rand said with a smile in her tone.  Since they’d been living under one roof they had adopted a non-military style.  The issue of rank and titles had come up at the first all present dinner that they had had.  It had been logically explained to him that while he was indeed their superior officer, and they were in turn his juniors, they were not on any Star Fleet property or time when they were there.  Uhura had said it best, “If we were just living in the same house and weren’t in the service, you wouldn’t call us by our official titles would you?  Well, consider us unofficial when we are here.”
	Spock had compromised and chosen to either address them as Miss, Ms., or their last names.  He rarely used their first names.  With Chapel however, he’d been presented with a problem.  She was a physician with a title that would have been used no matter whether she was in the service or not.  He felt as if he was somehow denigrating her when he referred to her as Miss Chapel.  In fact, she had mentioned it to him shortly afterward.  “If you would please try to call me Christine or just Chapel if you have to.  I find the term Miss particularly annoying the older I get.”
	He had accepted that and done as she requested.  He had not asked why she found the title Miss annoying.  
	“So I suppose Uhura will get home at 2230 and wonder what happened.  Did the power go out at Berkeley?” Chapel asked as she dug into the pizza.  
	“I don’t know.  Did you get my message from that Gregory fellow?” Jan asked Chapel as she handed her a beer.  The doctor thought a second, “No.  Did he call here?”
	“Yeah the other day; sounded like he really wanted to meet you and talk about that article you had in the Starfleet Medical Journal.  He also looked quite dreamy,” Jan noted remembering the dark black hair and almost violet eyes of the man who had inquired about Chapel. 
	“Yes, he keeps ‘dropping’ by.  I wish he would stop,” she complained softly.  Spock had been forgotten in the shadows of the room.  He listened to the exchange.  
	“Chris, you’ve got to live a little.  My god you’ve holed yourself up in that shell of yours for years now and for what.  Nothing,” Rand insisted.  Chapel cleared her throat.  She had not forgotten the Vulcan’s presence.  
	“I am just not interested in relationships at this time.  Drop the topic,” she warned quietly.  She jerked her head slightly in Spock’s direction.  Rand followed her look and with a grimace said, “Oh, okay.  New topic, Spock, how are your cadets coming, any noteworthy ones?”
	Spock swallowed, “There are several potential candidates for command school.  However, there are a majority of them that will fail this term.  I did wish to ask, would it be acceptable to invite guests to use the common areas while I am here?”
	Chapel and Rand looked at each other, “You mean people we don’t know?”
	“Yes and no.  My parents wish to visit…”
	“Amanda, yes I haven’t seen her in ages,” Christine smiled.  They’d kept up communication even though it had been sporadic since the Babel incident.  Rand had never met the Vulcan’s parents but had heard a great deal about them.  
	“Yes, my parents as well as a few members of the cadet class.  One student has asked about extra tutoring, and I find myself the only one qualified to assist her.”
	If Spock had been any other man the two women would have been whistling at that.  Since he was not any other man, they took the comment at face value.  
	“So you’d like to use the living room or roof or something to tutor her?” Chapel asked wanting to know all the details.  
	“Yes.  I will not do so when there are others in the house.  I asked only when there are no others here.”
	“Sure I don’t see why not.  I don’t think Ny will mind.  You can bring her in when we’re here too.  I mean, it’s not like we’re trying to hide things from each other,” Christine decided.  She wondered just who this new woman in Spock’s life was for a moment and then chastised herself for it.  It was none of her business.  
	The pizza disappeared quickly.  Chapel stopped before getting one of the last pieces, “Wait, do we need to save any for Ny?”
	“She won’t eat it cold remember,” Rand said to which Chris took the corner piece.  She was getting full but there wasn’t anything else to do but sit and eat and drink beer.  Spock stopped eating long ago, but one more piece did appeal to him.  Leaning forward into the firelight glow, he retrieved the last large piece.  Chapel found herself staring at him.  He was gorgeous in that light.  Mentally, she sighed.  She was not going to start this again.  Spock wanted nothing from her except a bed and a bath, and she was damned if she was going to let her fantasies get the better of her again.  “What did you do with that message from Captain Gregory?” she asked impulsively.  Rand smiled; maybe Spock living there would do some good after all.  
	“It’s over on the notepad.  So just what is he the Captain of anyway?  I couldn’t find him in the Star Fleet database,” the blonde grumbled.
	“Jan really!  Well, there are other military positions on Earth that don’t involve Star Fleet you know.  He’s a surgeon on the SS Biscayne; it’s a Coast Guard cutter.  I think he’s down for a few months from the Arctic.  At least that’s what he keeps rattling on about,” Chapel said.  
	“Ohh a seaman…” Jan snickered into her beer.  It was a rather obvious joke; even Spock got it.  Chapel just shook her head, “Oh God now she’s drunk.”
	“Am not, I’m just relaxed that’s all.  You know we should hire a masseuse.  I think we could keep a massage artist sufficiently busy don’t you?” she asked lazily and swung her legs over one arm of the oversized leather chair.  
	“I think that if we hired a masseuse that Nyota and I would be hard pressed to get an appointment in,” Christine said with a catty expression and a laugh in the beer.  It was going to be a very long night.  Spock nearly sighed.  

	Nyota Uhura got home to find a mess.  The sidewalks were pretty flooded and the roads were strewn with debris.  The house was clear of the water, but it was pitch black the two blocks that it took to walk from the tram drop to the cul-de-sac.  She felt no panic however.  She’d not been a lightweight women’s boxing contender on the Enterprise for almost ten years for nothing.  Just one of her one two punches would stave off an attack long enough for her to scream bloody murder.  She did quicken her pace though.  Pulling her key out to have it ready for the carport door, she realized she probably wouldn’t be able to see a damned thing down there and took the stairs to the main floor instead.  She could hear the singing before she got the door open.  
	Spock’s baritone was crooning out a well-known ballad.  With a grin she stepped in quietly.  Spock hadn’t done much singing in all those rec room visits.  He had brought his lyre up from his rooms and was entertaining Chapel and Rand in the firelight.  As he finished the number Uhura’s, “Bravo!” startled them.  
	“Hey, you’re home and missed the big show.”
	“Apparently, so we’re out for the night or what?” she asked referring to the lights as she stripped the uniform jacket off and flopped it on her bed.  She didn’t bother shutting her door as she undressed considering she couldn’t see herself let alone anyone else.  
	Chapel answered with a little slur, “Guesssh so.”
	“Hmmm, methinks someone has provided libation?  Spock?” she asked teasingly as she pulled on one of the caftans she favored to lounge in before bed.  She normally slept nude but did prefer to be seen in public with clothes on.  
	“I have not had any of the beer that Ms. Rand provided.  However, by last count, you have half of the case left to yourself,” he provided his voice deep and sensual in the dark.  Uhura had to shake her head to get rid of the idea.  She’d spent more time than any of them in closer quarters with Spock, but this was completely different than being aboard ship.  She didn’t know how Christine stood it.  
	Stepping out into the main rooms, she headed for the firepit.  “So, you’ve been entertaining them?”
	“I would consider it keeping them quiet,” Spock corrected.  
	“Okay.  So, what are you going to play for me?  You promised if you recall that you would play something just for me the next time you pulled out your instrument,” Uhura reminded.  
Janice started whooping, “Instrument…pulled out…Spock how forward.” 
	Chapel bonked her friend on the head, “Don’t mind her.  She needs a strong cup of coffee and a good night’s sleep.”
	“Do not,” Janice insisted and stuck her chin out in defiance.  The fact that she’d drunk a few beers wasn’t what made her so goofy.  The cold medication that she’d taken before she started home had done the most of the damage.   
	“Honey, you need to go to bed,” Uhura insisted.  
	“Aww… but you just got home and you’re gonna sing.  I know you will cause you can’t help it…” she complained.  
	“Tell you what.  I’ll sing if you go to bed.  We’ll tuck you in, and I’ll sing just for you, okay?” the Bantu tried.  She’d dealt with Janice out of it before.  The blonde head bobbed up and down.  With a step one could only describe as a stagger, she headed for the stairs.  She was tilted at an angle so sharp that the other three were amazed that gravity didn’t just take over.  Spock took one arm.  Chapel ended up on the other side.  She wasn’t nearly in the same state.  After all, she’d just had alcohol, not decongestants in her system as well.  Uhura toted the lyre with her.  
	Jan’s room was adjacent to Christine’s and shared the bath.  Christine began undressing her in the dark.  Jan kept tugging at the clothes to put the back on, “He’ll see…”
	“It’s pitch black, and he’s Vulcan.  He doesn’t care,” she assured a little too loudly.  Chapel didn’t see Spock’s eyebrow rise, but Uhura could nearly hear it.  Finally they got Rand settled in bed.  Uhura cued Spock, “Do you know the tune to any lullabies?” 
	“Yes.  This…” he began the traditional one written by Brahms.  Janice wasn’t satisfied with that one though.  “Nyaw… you know I don’t like that long haired stuff.”
	“Okay.  What do you want to hear?”
	“Anything, just sing it.”  
	Christine stood at Rand’s window looking out at the street scene below as they tried to settle her down.   Moonlight played off the puddles and the still wet asphalt.  She watched a couple cross the street in a leisurely fashion.  They seemed to be enjoying the temporary black out.  For some unknown reason she began to sing, “I go out walkin’, after midnight, out in the moonlight, just like we used to do.  I’m always walkin’ after midnight searching for you.  I walk for miles along the highway, well that’s just my way of sayin’ I love you.  I’m always walkin’ after midnight searching for you.  I stop to see a weepin’ willow cryin’ on his pillow, maybe he’s cryin’ for me.  And as the skies turn gloomy the night winds whisper to me, I’m lonesome as I can be.  I go out walkin’ after midnight out in the moonlight just hopin’ you may be somewhere a walkin’ after midnight searching for me.” Her voice trailed off and Uhura’s appreciative voice came to her in the dark, “Wow, looks like Spock’ll have to keep his fingers limbered up for two singers in the house instead of just one from now on.”  	 
	Christine shook her head, “No, singing is your venue not mine.  I’m gonna head to bed myself.  Night guys.”  
	She disappeared through the bathroom door that connected to her own room and listened as Uhura sang something exotic and low for Janice.  She didn’t climb into bed.  Instead she sat at the window that looked out at the street and watched the moonlight as its’ shadow traveled across the roadway.  It was so strange to be in this position.  Spock and Uhura’s voices quietly descended down the stairs to the main room.  Chapel stayed at the chaise and listened as Janice’s light snoring filtered through the open bathroom door.  She always snored when she got tipsy.  Uhura did not make her excuses for bed until the clock chimed one, and Spock’s lyre playing could be heard for a little while after that.  Apparently he intended to lull them all to sleep in that manner that night.  Perhaps he knew that not all of them were asleep in their beds.  If her mind was clearer, if her heart were clearer, Chapel might have been lulled just as easily.  As it was, she just stayed up until the only sound left in the house was her own breathing and the pounding of her heart, and it as loud as the surf in her ears.