Received: from [66.218.67.196] by n41.grp.scd.yahoo.com with NNFMP; 25 May 2004 01:07:31 -0000 X-Sender: campbratcher@psci.net X-Apparently-To: ASCEM-S@yahoogroups.com Received: (qmail 26256 invoked from network); 25 May 2004 01:07:29 -0000 Received: from unknown (66.218.66.166) by m3.grp.scd.yahoo.com with QMQP; 25 May 2004 01:07:29 -0000 Received: from unknown (HELO mailstore.psci.net) (63.65.184.2) by mta5.grp.scd.yahoo.com with SMTP; 25 May 2004 01:07:29 -0000 Received: from max (as1-d3-rp-psci.psci.net [63.69.225.3]) by mailstore.psci.net (8.12.2/8.12.2) with SMTP id i4P17CKB009839 for ; Mon, 24 May 2004 20:07:12 -0500 Message-ID: <002d01c441f4$ab20dda0$03e1453f@max> To: "ASCEM-S" X-Priority: 3 X-MSMail-Priority: Normal X-Mailer: Microsoft Outlook Express 6.00.2800.1158 x-mimeole: Produced By Microsoft MimeOLE V6.00.2800.1165 X-eGroups-Remote-IP: 63.65.184.2 From: "Keith & Jessica Bratcher" X-Yahoo-Profile: sileya MIME-Version: 1.0 Mailing-List: list ASCEM-S@yahoogroups.com; contact ASCEM-S-owner@yahoogroups.com Delivered-To: mailing list ASCEM-S@yahoogroups.com Precedence: bulk List-Unsubscribe: Date: Mon, 24 May 2004 20:07:36 -0500 Subject: [ASCEM-S] NEW: TOS Nurse 2/2 [PG-13] Ch, K ChFF Reply-To: "Keith & Jessica Bratcher" Content-Type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit X-ELNK-AV: 0 TITLE: Nurse AUTHOR: Djinn CONTACT: djinn@djinnslair.com http://www.djinnslair.com SERIES: TOS RATING: PG-13 CODES: Ch, K Chapel Fic Fest PART: 2/2 DISCLAIMERS: Paramount and Viacom own these characters--I'm just warping canon. SUMMARY: The first in a series looking at Chapel through the The recreation lounge is crowded. A crew party on the Enterprise is something to be met with great anticipation. Most people don't like to miss them, and there is always much jockeying of schedules as the few who prefer solitude opt out so that others can go. Christine can't decide what camp she is in. But she's here, so she must be coming out on the side of the partiers. For whatever reason. She hopes to god that the reason does not have golden skin and hazel eyes. She doesn't want to run her life based on the whereabouts of some male. Even if it is a man she died with. And slept together with once. That's not relevant. They aren't lovers. And he's left her alone. Given up the need to be her pal, thank god. It probably was transference. Just relief and gratitude. A shared traumatic experience bringing them together. No reason not to enjoy the party. But also no reason to go to the party. She sees him. He's in the perfect spot to watch the door. She doesn't flatter herself that he is watching for her, even though he lifts his glass in a silent greeting. He did the same to the people ahead of her, will do the same to the crewman behind her. It's just his way. She wanders toward the bar. The mass of people between it and the door seems to suck the energy out of her. She sees a chair, considers sitting but is afraid to come to roost too soon. She needs to mingle, needs to make herself work at his. She's been alone too much lately. Dying hasn't been good for her social skills. Music starts up; those in the crew who play instruments have been called into service. They play with gusto, even with some skill. Or maybe she is just feeling charitable tonight. She sees people move to the dance floor that's been laid down by someone. She finds it easier to get to the bar as more crew head over to dance. "Wine--whatever's good," she orders and the impromptu bartender pours some kind of white. She sips at it. "I wasn't sure you would come." His voice is pure silk in her ear. She shivers. Hates herself for doing it. Hates him for making her do it. She knows he is not unaware of his charms. He knows what he is doing. "I wasn't sure either," she says with no warmth at all in her voice. "Beer," he orders, then takes it, moving her off gently, away from the dance floor, over to some tall tables. "I don't want to sit," she says. "Too bad. I do. I've been here longer and I'm tired." The nurse in her kicks in and she feels guilty. "I'm sorry." He grins. A weary grin, but still a showstopper. "I liked you better when you were being snotty." She laughs softly. It's impossible to be mean to him. He just won't allow it. "Are you feeling better--when you're not playing host to this many people, I mean?" He smiles, sips at his beer. "I am. How about you?" She nods. Silence falls between them. She is not sure what to say, doesn't really want to say anything. "I've left you alone." "I've noticed." Her voice sounds more annoyed than she would have liked. He laughs, which only annoys her more. She senses that he gets that. She looks at the dancers. They seem happy. All paired up, at least for the duration of the current song. "Do you like to dance?" she asks him for no good reason other than it popped into her head and her mouth decided to give it voice. "I do." He does not look like he is in the mood for dancing. He smiles at her. "I like talking too." "Ah, the whole getting to know me shtick?" He laughs again. Evidently, she is amusing. Roger would not find this tough, acerbic Christine amusing. Roger preferred his women adoring. She studies Kirk. He does not appear to mind that she is practically running the other way--not that he is chasing her, but he does appear interested in something. She's just not sure what. She remembers how Jan worshipped him. If he were Roger, he would have loved it. He would have taken her to his bed and made love to her. But Kirk isn't Roger. He didn't like the worship. It probably made it harder, not easier, for him to deal with his yeoman. She was Jan's equivalent when it came to Roger. He showed no compunction in taking advantage of her hero worship. She sighs. "What are you thinking about?" She decides to tell him the truth. "Roger." She debates mentioning Janice. Decides not to. It might be a betrayal of the confidences Jan trusted her with, and Christine doesn't betray her friends. "You need to find someone else," he says. "You perhaps?" Her tone drips acid. "That's not what I meant." His tone is calm, gentle. But the words still hurt. And she can see that he realizes that. "Sorry. That came out wrong." She waves his apology away. "It's okay. You're over your transference." She tries to grin, make it into a joke. "I never had any transference to get over." "Right." She is suddenly very tired. She can see that he is too. Together they are like competing hull breaches, sucking the life out of the room and each other. She stands up, leaves her wine. "I'm really tired." He sighs. She can tell he knows why she is leaving. "Chris." "Sir, please." She looks at him, is afraid that there is something pleading in her gaze. What is she asking him for? He stands as if he might come with her, walk her home or some other outdated notion, and she feels her expression harden. "Goodnight, sir." She gives him a hard look, one designed to keep him from showing up at her door because their conversation isn't over. Let him finish it now or just let her get the hell away. "Goodnight," he finally says. His expression is unreadable, stoic. Vulcan-like. He could be sad or relieved or even angry and she would have no idea. She walks away, gratefully heads to her quarters. Sleep does not come for a long time. She tries to pretend she is not waiting for the sound of her door chime. --------------------- She hears the red alert klaxons only seconds before the ship takes the first shuddering hit. She hates combat. Not because she is afraid, but because she has to just sit and wait for the casualties to start stumbling in. Len rushes out, no doubt going up to the bridge. She wonders why he thinks he belongs there, but apparently no one else questions his presence. So she keeps quiet. The nurses rush around and she watches them prepare to take in wounded. They are more experienced than she would like at this. A peaceful voyage of exploration--wasn't that how Starfleet sold this five-year mission? The ship shudders again. Then it does more than shudder. It lurches. She grabs a biobed to keep from falling. Other nurses aren't so lucky. She feels her heart speed up. This is not good. The wounded do start to stagger in then. She and the nurses help the ones they can, get others ready for the doctors. Triage--it hasn't changed for centuries. She is busy with a badly burnt crewwoman when McCoy and a crewman come in with a stretcher. She cannot see who is on it, hopes it is not one of her friends and feels instantly guilty at the thought. No one deserves to suffer whether they be someone she pals around with or not. The person on the stretcher is transferred onto a gurney and is pushed into the surgery. She puts whoever it is out of her mind. Reveau is the scrub nurse this time. The rest of them will continue to handle the men and women who come in. Many of the wounded leave again, determined to go back to their posts. She always feels a thrill of pride in her colleagues during these nervewracking battles. They are all so brave. The ship finally stops shaking and even more people stream into sickbay, finally free to get minor injuries attended to now that the fighting is over. She is cleaning up a head wound when Kirk rushes through the doors to the surgery area. Len comes out, puts his hand on the captain's shoulder. Len is smiling. The way he does when things aren't as bad as he originally thought. Christine knows all his expressions by heart. Kirk smiles but seems to sink in on himself a bit as Len leaves him to go back to his patient. She finishes with the person she's tending and waits as Kirk crosses the room. He is holding his arm stiffly, as if moving it hurts. "What happened?" she asks as she gently touches his arm. He flinches. "Should have been in my chair but thought I was helping by walking around. Found myself in a heap on the stairs when the ship lurched." She nods. They were seeing a lot of injuries from that one hit. She scans his arm. "It's broken." She eases him gently to the closest bed, waits as he hops up, using his good arm to push himself. "It'll take a few minutes." "That's fine." He glances back at surgery as she begins to scan his arm. "Is it Spock?" she asks. He looks at her, as if he cannot believe she doesn't know who is in the other room. "I've been a little busy," she says softly. "Yes, it's Spock. Bones says he's going to be fine, but he may have just been trying to make me feel better." She smiles. "That wasn't his 'I'm lying through my teeth' look. Spock will be fine." He seems to relax. "Really?" She nods. Then she looks over at surgery. "What happened?" "Energy pulse. A back feed through his console. He was thrown across the bridge." "Yikes." She smiles at him. "He's tough. You know that." She turns his hand slightly, to get at the arm from a different angle. "He's probably in a healing trance now. It will be hours before he comes out of it." She knows this from embarrassing experience. She hovered over him too many times in the past. Len can hover this time. "Are you in love with him?" Kirk's voice is pitched softly. This conversation is just for the two of them. Thank god. "Do you have to ask? I thought it was common knowledge on the ship?" "It is. That doesn't mean it's right." She smiles, turns the instrument up to work on the worst part of the break. "What do you think?" "I think you're adept at picking the safe route. I think you might choose him because he's low risk. You can love him forever and never have to make a scary move." "Not very flattering, Jim." She realizes what she has called him, hopes he won't notice. She should have known better. "Ooh, progress," he says with a grin. It should be illegal to light up a room like he does when he smiles. He watches her work. "You have a gentle touch." "It's my calling." She looks up at him, smiles mockingly. "I'm the nurturing type." He nods thoughtfully, as if he hasn't noticed her sarcasm, but she knows he misses nothing. "The selfless nurse." "That's me." "But what do you want?" "Why do I have to want anything?" He laughs. "You're too damn clever, Chris. Answering a question with a question." She shrugs, but can't bite back the smile. It's fun to spar with him. "Everyone wants something just for them. What do you want?" She looks up, feels her eyes go hard. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours." "You think I won't?" His eyes have gone hard too. Suddenly, sparring is much less fun. She pulls back, turns off the instrument. "All better. You can go check on Spock." She turns away, busies herself at the nearest console. He sits for a moment then she hears him sigh. "Why does it have to be like pulling teeth with you, Chris?" "Why does what have to be like that?" She turns to stare at him. "What do you want?" "I don't want to hurt you." "I didn't ask you what you don't want." She turns away. If he won't leave, she will. She's worked hours with no break. She's long overdue. Besides she's getting good at leaving him in her dust. ------------------- The planet is glorious, just the place to do some final recuperations. Shore leave has been a long time coming. The breeze blows across the grass that runs from the front of the hotel down to the shore of a large lake. Boats whip across the water, and another one pulls away from the dock, joining them. Her friends are on the boat; she waves to them. Then she walks over to the sand and stares down at Kirk. "This spot taken?" He looks up at her, shielding his eyes from the sun. "You _want_ to sit with me?" "Want may be too strong a word." She smiles when he laughs again. "You're a masochist, Jim." It feels odd to say his name, and it comes out sort of stuttered. "Why's that?" "You laugh whenever I get a good one off." "I enjoy a quick wit." He grins. "Please join me, Miss Chapel." She spreads her towel out and sinks gratefully to the soft surface. The sand gives as she lies down on her stomach. "I suppose you need me to put lotion on your back?" "Nope. Thanks." He looks over at her and she realizes that he is laughing silently. She can't think up anything witty to say so she smiles back. He shakes his head and closes his eyes. "This sunshine is heaven," he says softly. The sun is baking down on her, and she feels muscle aches that have not gone away for days easing in the languid heat. "For once you'll get no argument from me." "So we finally found a safe topic." He looks over and grins. "The weather." "There's a reason it's a classic." She giggles, then looks away. The sound is out of character. Too light. She glances over at him. He looks charmed. Great. "That was not a giggle." "Was too." She rolls her eyes. "No. It was nerves." "I make you nervous?" This is not a safe topic. "So does it rain here?" "Chris. Answer the question." "I seem to have forgotten it." She lays her head down, pretends she's asleep. Sand dusts over her, falling on her back. "Hey!" "Answer the question. Do I make you nervous?" He says each word slowly and carefully as if she is not very smart. She just glares at him. He scoops up more sand. "Next time it's going in your hair." She laughs. "How old are you?" "Old enough. Older than you." "By how much?" She's seen his file countless times; she knows exactly how much older he is. He smiles. "Nice try. Answer the question." She sighs. "Yes." There, she has said it. He makes her nervous. "Why?" "Because I don't know what you want from me." His look is serious, his eyes gentle as he says, "I'm not entirely certain of that either." They stare at each other for a long time. He is the first to look away as he lays his head back down. "This is nice. Just spending time." "In other words, don't make it what it's not?" "Don't put words in my mouth." He sighs. "You know, most men would be put off by the prickly act." "It's not an act," she says, and immediately wishes she hadn't. "Was it Roger? Did he make you this way?" He sits up, seems intensely interested in her answer. She shrugs. "Did something happen? Something bad?" He seems unsure how to continue. "Nothing like that, Jim." It's getting easier to call him that. "It's just..." She sighs. "Some people are good at the whole relationship thing. They just seem to get how it's all supposed to work. Others of us...well, it's not so easy." "And you fall in the latter?" She laughs. "You have to ask? You've dealt with me. Do I appear to get it?" He smiles a bit wickedly. "You have your moments." She laughs. Feels herself relaxing around him. She sets her head back down on the towel, watches him. "It's not like you've said that a relationship is what you're looking for. I am running away from you, but I don't even know what you want." She scoops sand up in her hand, lets the warm grains run through her fingers. "You don't even know what you want." "That's true." He is staring out at the lake with a strange look on his face. "You're lonely?" He nods. "And you think I can help with that?" He shrugs. Then he looks down at the sand. "I don't mess in my own nest." "I know. That's what makes this so confusing." "How do you think I feel? It's my rule I seem to be in danger of breaking." He looks at her. His eyes are sad. So sad she is suddenly willing to stop running just to make him stop looking at her that way. Then he looks away. "We don't have to figure this out today, do we?" She realizes that this time it is he who is running away. Or at least running backwards a bit. She takes pity on him. "No. We don't." She closes her eyes. "This is nice." She hears him lie back down. She reaches out to run her hand through the sand, touches him instead. He grasps her hand, squeezes, and doesn't release it right away. When he finally lets go, she feels her last resistance fade. "Don't let me burn," she whispers. "I won't," he says. She falls asleep. Secure that he will keep his promise. ------------------- She stares at her terminal. The application for med school sits blank and full of the potential to change her life. She pulls it into a note, sends it to Len with a question at the top of the message: What do you think? A moment later, his reply pops up: Long overdue. You want a reference? She laughs. Sends back: Eager to get rid of me? She hears footsteps coming toward her. She turns, waits for Len. He has no patience for messaging. "You know I'm not eager to get rid of you," he's saying. He always shows up already talking. She knows him so well at this point it's a little scary. It's one of the reasons that she hasn't moved on. She's afraid that she'll never understand a boss this well again. "I'm scared," she says. She is not normally so honest with him. "Of course you are. It's a big step, Christine. But you've got more degrees than I have even without the M.D. I think you've more than proven that you can hack it in school. So what's the problem?" She shrugs. What is the problem? What holds her here? She tries not to flash on hazel eyes that twinkle with amusement. Jim's eyes are not a factor in this decision. Or his smile, or his soft gaze when she's finally dropped her guard around him. They're not lovers. They just meet up a lot. He talks to her. She is learning to talk to him. He listens almost as well as he used to badger her to open up. She's never been with someone who really heard her. Not until now. But they're not lovers. Not yet. She sighs. "You've been seeing a lot of Jim, haven't you?" She looks down. "Not so much." He chuckles. "He likes you. You like him. Nothing wrong with that." "We're just..." What the hell are they? Friends? Colleagues? Fellow survivors of a deadly virus? What? They aren't lovers. Not yet. Len sits down. "Christine. If I disapproved, I'd tell you so." She waves his words away. "He doesn't shit in his own nest." The words sound too rough. The swear word sounds crass. "I tend not to view love as shitting, Christine. Maybe you should try not to. It might improve your outlook." "I didn't say it was love." "You didn't say it wasn't." He grins at her, the busybody who comes out at the strangest times. "So, you don't want to leave him?" "I didn't say that either." "Hell of a lot you didn't say. So what are you saying, darlin'?" She laughs. She has no earthly idea what she is trying to say. "So, you'll give me a recommendation?" He nods, stares at her as if waiting for more from her. When he finally gets up, he looks disappointed in her. "I'll let you get to that." She nods. He walks to the door but turns at the last minute. "Maybe you should tell him that you plan to do this?" She frowns. "Don't let the official notice be the first he hears of it." He looks down. "Jim's a good man. If he's reaching out to you, breaking his own personal prime directive, then you need to be gentle with his heart. Don't hurt him, Christine." She is taken aback. The idea of her hurting Jim is ludicrous. What is it the nurses call him? Captain Cock? How can she hurt that? He seems to read her mind. "I know his reputation. I also know yours. Yours isn't accurate, why should scuttlebutt get his right? He's a hell of a lot more complicated than some two-bit lothario. And if you haven't figured that out yet, then you aren't smart enough to go to med school." He turns on his heel and walks out. She can feel her face redden. When Len calls her on the carpet, it hurts. And he's usually right. She will tell Jim she's thinking about this. She will. She stares at the application. She will. She just doesn't know when. ----------------- She walks around the observation lounge. It was her idea to come here but now she is unsure why. Jim is looking out at the stars. He never seems to tire of the view; his eyes always find the viewscreen in whatever room he enters, as if reassuring himself that his stars are still out there. Space is where he belongs. Space is not where she wants to be anymore. Not when there's this sudden, burning need inside her to finish the journey she interrupted when Roger disappeared. But she doesn't want to say goodbye to Jim. She wouldn't admit it to Len, but she is in love with their captain. But then she falls in love so easily. And it's easy to love Jim. She thinks he might love her too, but he hasn't said. They've both been careful to discuss anything and everything--except what they feel for each other. She believes it's why they aren't lovers yet. She believes it's the only reason they aren't lovers yet. She wants him. God help her, she wants him so badly she feels as if she'll explode if he doesn't kiss her. But she never says that to him. And he doesn't kiss her. She moves next to him. "I think I'm going to leave." He turns and frowns. "You're tired?" She shakes her head and sees him get it. His face falls and she looks away. "When?" "Soon. I'm applying to med school. Len thinks I'll have no problem getting in. It starts in a few months." She needs a referral from her C.O. She doesn't want to have to ask him for it. He turns back to the viewscreen, looks out at the cold stellar fire that lights up the blackness of space. "I'm sorry," she says. He shrugs. "It'll be good for you. You'll make a fabulous doctor." He is not just being nice. There is sincerity in his tone. She suddenly can't see, realizes she has teared up. "Thanks," she chokes out. He turns her to him. "Chris?" He wipes the tears off her face. "If you want this, why cry?" She shrugs. She won't be the first to say it. Not this time. He lets go of her arms. His sigh is the saddest sound she's ever heard. "I'll miss you," he whispers. "I'll miss you too." She thinks he will say more, but he just stares into space. She starts to turn away. "It would have been nice." She turns back to him. "Yes. I think it would have." She looks away. "But I guess we'll never know." "I guess not." He is searching her face for something. Maybe for anything. Anything at all. She is giving him nothing. She won't be the first to say it. He moves closer, his hand is soft on her cheek, then on her hair. "Let's do this right?" She can feel her heart beating too fast. "Okay." And then she is in his arms and he is kissing her and she realizes that up until this moment no one has ever really touched her. Not like this. She feels as if her whole body is being kissed, not just the lips that are joined with his. "I love you," she whispers, suddenly willing to give him everything. She feels the tears again. They fall as they did in the shuttle when she was dying. Is she dying now? "Chris." He pulls her closer. His mouth is frantic now. As if he can hold her with the power of whatever it is he feels. She has not missed that he has not told her how he feels. She pulls away, strokes his cheek. "I wish I could stay." He nods. He is no stranger to destiny. To choices and duty and the need to follow the path you were meant to walk. Even if it's one you were meant to walk alone. "I wish..." She looks down. What does it matter what she wishes? He kisses her one last time. "I do too." Then he pulls away, and before her eyes he becomes Captain Kirk again. The man she never knew at all. It breaks her heart to see him pull away. But then that's probably fair. It's possible she has just broken his heart. "Do you need a recommendation?" he asks gently. She nods, afraid her voice will break if she tries to use words with him now. "I'd be honored." He starts to turn away. "Why, Jim?" At his look of confusion, she says, "Why me? Why did you choose me?" He shakes his head. "You really don't know?" "I never have." Tears are falling again. She will dry up and crack apart into a thousand grains of sand if she doesn't stop crying. He steps closer. "When we were on the shuttle, I saw you. I saw who the nurse I'd known all these years really was. You were strong, and you were brave. You tried to ease the suffering of others while ignoring your own exhaustion. And you helped me bury our shipmates. You were dead tired and already getting sick, but you helped me." She blinks back tears. "I fell in love with you long before it was me you were tending. I didn't have to transfer anything to you. It was there already." He steps even closer. "I admire the hell out of you, Nurse Chapel. And I'll miss you. More than you probably realize." His lips find hers again. She clutches him, tries to find the words to tell him she'll stay but her mouth won't cooperate. She wants him. She wants him so badly. But she has to go. She has to do this. And she can see by his eyes when they pull away that he knows it too. "It doesn't have to be over just because I'm leaving." "It won't be. We'll always be friends." "Kissing friends?" God help her but she wants to be back in his arms. More than almost anything. He laughs. The sound is bitter. "Maybe you can do that. I can't. I have to start pulling away a bit now. I'm sorry." She nods. It hurts, but she will do whatever he needs her to do. He turns and walks away from her. She watches him until the doors close behind him, leaving her alone with his cold, cold stars. FIN [Non-text portions of this message have been removed] ------------------------ Yahoo! Groups Sponsor ---------------------~--> Yahoo! Domains - Claim yours for only $14.70 http://us.click.yahoo.com/Z1wmxD/DREIAA/yQLSAA/5x3olB/TM ---------------------------------------------------------------------~-> Yahoo! Groups Links <*> To visit your group on the web, go to: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ASCEM-S/ <*> To unsubscribe from this group, send an email to: ASCEM-S-unsubscribe@yahoogroups.com <*> Your use of Yahoo! Groups is subject to: http://docs.yahoo.com/info/terms/ From ???@??? Mon May 24 21:52:42 2004 X-Persona: Status: U Return-Path: Received: from n26.grp.scd.yahoo.com ([66.218.66.82]) by penguin (EarthLink SMTP Server) with SMTP id 1bsqrH6AF3NZFl40 for ; Mon, 24 May 2004 18:09:32 -0700 (PDT) X-eGroups-Return: sentto-1978024-8119-1085447372-stephenbratliff=earthlink.net@returns.groups.yahoo.com