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To: "ASCEM-S" <ASCEM-S@yahoogroups.com>
From: "Keith & Jessica Bratcher" <campbratcher@psci.net>
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Date: Sun, 30 May 2004 18:08:06 -0500
Subject: [ASCEM-S] NEW TOS ChFF "Breaking the Spell" 1/1 [PG-13] Mc/Ch
Reply-To: "Keith & Jessica Bratcher" <campbratcher@psci.net>
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Title: Breaking the Spell
Author: Acidqueen <a.q @ gmx.de>
Pairings: McCoy/Chapel
Series: TOS
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Old habits can die.
Archive: Chapel Fest, my own website at
http://www.syredronning.de/ , ASCEM, all others ask,
please.
Acknowledgement: Special thanks to Lyrastar for even two
beta rounds this time! All remaining errors are mine!

***

Two minutes.

Two minutes since Rand told her that he was back onboard,
and she watches the seconds run by on her small digital
clock and her thoughts run with them and with her ex-boss
and ex-lover, step by step closing in on the place she
thought she might call home. In her mind, she hears him
mumbling, about engineers and nurses who think they can
take over and run his Sickbay. She opens the medical
roster and puts his name on the top of the list, noticing
with some part of her brain that she once again surrenders
too quickly, old habits resurfacing with old
acquaintances.

Two minutes.

Two minutes since he stepped through the door, and she
stands and watches as he shaves off his beard, then
changes clothes, leaving the back of his much-too-slim
body for her to see. With every word they exchange, with
every little joke they make they are connecting with the
warm friendship of the past, his compliments on her
doctorate and her hair style drunken in by her. She
watches him go as he leaves for the bridge, the remnants
of his touch on her arm a shadow and a promise.

Two minutes.

Two minutes since they entered the lift, surprise with an
underlying note of happiness in both their eyes. Time
pours like wet sand in an hour glass, slowly dropping in
unsteady chunks, and she wants to clasp his hand and
ground herself, but doesn't. And when they face the long-
absent Vulcan, the idea of homecoming shatters on the icy
walls that rise in front of them, set by the blank mask of
his face. Her fear of renewed longing dies under this
silence, leaving the pain of the man at her side more real
to her than her own, before it's gone like Spock is gone.
For a heartbeat, she takes in the stunned faces of the
other officers, before she returns to Sickbay, alone.

Two minutes.

Two minutes, before he will enter through her door, and
she sits on her bed, staring at the soothing grey of the
floor. She never knew what they built in those few nights
at the end of the five-year mission, if there had ever
been more than simple need and consummation of longing,
unanswered by others. Not once did he ask if she thought
of Spock those nights, and never did she ask of whom he
might have dreamed, fearing the knowledge would be harder
to swallow than a vague guess. She leans back and runs her
hands over her chest, remembering the unexpected moment
when the touch of friends had turned into more, wondering
if tonight they would finally find the love for each other
they had never sought in the first place.

Two minutes.

Two minutes since he fell asleep in her arms after another
day, leaving her alone with her thoughts, naked body and
naked soul. In her mind the image of Spock clasping Kirk's
hand in Sickbay, causing an unexpectedly painful knot as
the thought struck her that it was something they could've
had, Spock and her. Flashes of lost chances overlie the
picture and replay like erratically switching vid
channels, frozen images and shattered words wrapped in the
long-forgotten fog of misery. She reaches over to the man
at her side and buries her head in his neck, stirring him
out of his sleep to make love to him again.

Two minutes.

Two minutes since Kirk stepped into his office, and she
stares at his back, filling the door. Behind the figure,
she can see her boss slumped in his chair, arms open wide.
She counts the seconds, wondering if he will tell his
captain of his decision to leave the Enterprise again. But
she waits in vain as the sorcerer spins a net of
friendship and duty, offers and pleas, and she can see his
arms being tied, his defenses broken. Then the captain's
hand touches his shoulder and, unconsciously, he tilts his
head down on it. It's that little gesture that makes her
turn away to write the final acceptance letter for her new
position at Headquarters.

Two minutes.

Two minutes ago, she shook Kirk's hand. One and a half
minutes ago, Spock gave her a stiff nod with his head. A
minute ago, she kissed him on his cheek and wished him all
the best for the future, closing her hand around his for a
split second before he pulled away and stepped back behind
the captain. The last thing she sees is the glow of Kirk's
victorious smile as it melts into the bright light of the
transporter.

A moment later, she steps down the platform and goes her
merry way, free.

*****



[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]



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