Chapter Text
Christine Chapel was ready to spend a week on the fourth moon orbiting Mecivoz II. She will train a local team to use the new hypospray that would make jet injectors a thing of history. A job totally above her pay grade, yet totally worth it. The prospect of having no other company than two medical crew, some random botanist busy collecting samples on the other side of the moon, and an ensign to protect their landing party, courtesy of their security chief, Noonien-Singh, was exactly what she needed.
She scanned the room and caught her reflection. Clad in her regulation cobalt blue uniform, she was literally the poster girl for a communication campaign. She smirked with glee, threw her bag over her shoulder, and left her quarters. Things were definitely getting weird, she had to get the hell out of Dodge.
Eternal love, white picket fences,- insert here whatever space metaphor to replace the fences, she'd given it a try already. The George Korby debacle was meant to stay in the past. Nobody knew, not even Erica. She favored people like Dever now, a casual sex partner, no emotional attachment. Until she dumped Dever's ass to rescue Spock in great danger of feeling sorry for himself and hold his hand. He was like a magnet. She was not dumb, she was aware spontaneous desire appears when you’re falling in love. But love? Not so sure.
She knew she shouldn't have enjoyed teasing Spock so much on her first days aboard the Enterprise. But Vulcans were so easily teased, and it was so entertaining to watch him jump out of his skin every time he wasn't fast enough to shade his emotions, she simply couldn't resist. She even went as far as engaging in a casual flirt routine. He warmed up to her, eventually teased her back on occasions. Of course, their insignificant banter opened the door to an unorthodox outcome when they were confronted to Angel. Because he trusted her, she helped him sell the deception to T'Pring. According to Spock, Vulcans were incapable of lying, at least not like humans could. What he meant exactly, she had not the faintest idea, so she lied in his stead, mortified she sounded so lame. He proceeded to turn her words into action to sell the lie.
And after weeks of fantasizing about how it would be like, it became very real. She felt the flash of heat on his face, his lips hungrily seeking hers while he pressed himself against her. It was one thing to fake kiss her, but stick his tongue down her throat, and enjoy it, obviously it has been an eye-opener he wasn't prepared to deal with.
When he came to sickbay to discuss her feelings? Man, what was she supposed to say? Break up with your girlfriend, -or don't, I don't especially care, except that I sort of do, and fuck me senseless? No, she did what she had to, played the friend card, and now everything was broken.
To put it mildly, she couldn't put up with the usual perkiness of the Enterprise right now. Dr M'Benga had started to give them knowing glances, she even noticed Uhura mischievous grin on occasion. The girl was possibly Spockine, Chrispock,- whatever stupid moniker she came up with, number one fan. Erica was more inquisitive than ever, grilling her about the mysterious right guy she will finally be honest with. She refused to give her new ammunition and the cold shoulder instead.
At this point, and maybe she was being a touch paranoid, it was a miracle that nobody had found out what happened on the bridge. Ultimately, possibly in the near future, the Serene Squall prisoners were going to spill the beans from whatever hole they were left into. Memes of their supposed child, a fair haired Norwegian boy with bright blue eyes and pointy ears, will spread across the galaxy like wildfire, making them a laughing stock for bigots and imbeciles. She spent tremendous amount of time rewriting unlikely scenarios which all ended the same way, with Spock expressing sympathy. Sympathy. Dipstick!
She was a fricking alumnus from Stanford, dammit, not some highshool dropout pining for the boy next door. She was three credits short of becoming a full-fledged medical doctor. She was done with pacing sickbay, hugging the walls every time she was in the mess hall or sitting in the lounge alone in the middle of the night nervous he'd show up. Spock might be Vulcan, he knew something was amiss. A collection of awkward interactions had replaced their easy banter.
To pretty much sum it up, she needed a break. Ergo, volunteering to give whatever disease boosters to random people with the mighty Federation new toy seemed like a great opportunity. A seven day away mission would give her time to change the narrative. She'll take a step back and get some perspective. The added bonus, the benefit of fresh air.
When the medical cadets rushed past her, carrying a travel paraphernalia unlike the one they were supposed to take to the moon, she chuckled and hurried up. The whole thing was looking more and more like a shore leave. She barged into the transporter room like a cannonball and slammed into Number One who was waiting to beam them off to the surface.
"Go treat those people before breaking your neck, Nurse Chapel," she smiled. "Mr Kyle, three to beam down."
"Wait," Christine asked from the platform. "Where is everyone?"
"You'll rendez vous at the compound. The others took the Galileo."
"Of course they did," Christine sighed before she was engulfed into nothingness.