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From: "Keith & Jessica Bratcher" <campbratcher@psci.net>
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Date: Sun, 13 Jun 2004 21:11:58 -0500
Subject: [ASCEM-S] NEW: TOS Scientist [PG13] 1/3  K/Ch, ChFF
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TITLE: Scientist
AUTHOR: Djinn
CONTACT: djinn@djinnslair.com http://www.djinnslair.com
SERIES: TOS
RATING: PG-13
CODES: K/Ch, Chapel Fic Fest
PART: 1/3
DISCLAIMERS: Paramount and Viacom own these characters--I'm just
warping canon.
SUMMARY: Sequel to "Doctor." The continuing look at Chapel through


The air is brisk as Christine leaves the lab for the walk home.  She 
pulls her coat around her more securely, wishing the anger she feels 
inside could warm her outside.

"Hey!"  David runs out behind her, ignoring the new guard who tells 
him to slow down--the old guards will fill him in soon enough on not 
trying to fetter the creative element.  "Christine, wait."

She walks faster.  She is tired.  So tired of arguing with him.  He 
is determined to use the protomatter.  And she has run out of other 
options.

Two years ago, she was as hot to try it out as he is.  Two years 
ago, she wasn't lying to Jim every time he tries to ask her about 
work--as well as every time it never even occurs to him to ask about 
his son.  She sees his son every damn day, and he doesn't even know 
it.

It doesn't help that Jim seems more miserable in his own Earthbound 
job with every day that passes.  He hates that part of his life, and 
the rest of it she is wrecking all on her own.

David catches up to her.  "Christine.  Stop.  Please."

She turns to him, but doesn't stop walking.  It's too cold to stand 
outside and argue.  She shivers, pulls the stupidly ineffectual 
regulation jacket she grabbed that morning around her.

"Come on.  Let's get some coffee and talk where it's warm."  He 
takes her arm, steers her toward a nearby coffeehouse.

She yanks her arm away.  "I don't want coffee, David.  I want to go 
home."

He takes her hand, gives her the pleading look that is half Jim and 
half some terrible tempter out of myth.  Loki, she decided long 
ago.  David is Loki.

He moves his other hand underneath hers, trapping hers as he chafes 
it softly.  "Please?  Christine, I need you."  He is leaning in, his 
look intense.

He can turn intellectual conversation into seduction.  Even if he 
has absolutely no interest in her that way, he still can use his 
father's charm to get what he wants.  

She lets him pull her inside.  He orders for her and carries the 
drinks to a secluded table.  

"I know you're angry with me," he says.  "But we've tried everything 
else.  It's time to bite the bullet."

She doesn't answer.

"I don't understand your attitude, Christine.  You want this as much 
as I do.  You're as eager to test out your theories as I am.  I know 
you are.  So what is the problem?"  He leans in.  "I can't believe 
you're letting your personal life get in the way of this."

"Stay out of my personal life," she says, only barely stopping 
herself from adding, "And your father's."

"Okay."  He holds up his hands.  "Christine, I need to know you 
won't fight me on this.  Mother cannot know what we are planning."

She doesn't answer.  He knows she won't tell Carol.  There is no way 
she won't be blamed just as much as David.  In this case, it 
definitely takes two to tango with protomatter.

He shakes his head.  "We're not doing anything wrong.  When this is 
over, history will laud us."

She is tired.  Too tired to fight him.  She wishes she never 
accepted his offer, never gave in to his charm.  Her hubris was 
matched only by her stupidity--did she really think that she could 
keep this from Jim and not pay some kind of price?

Lies fester.  Even if the person being lied to doesn't suspect they 
don't know the truth.  The liar knows.  And she pays for being false 
in every other aspect of her life with the person she has wronged.  

Christine has been paying for some time now.  The worst part is that 
she's started to close her eyes when she and Jim make love.  She 
can't bear for him to see what lies inside her.  What lies lie 
inside her.

She sighs.  

What difference does it make anymore?  But for her work on the 
project, David wouldn't even be at a stage to use protomatter.  She 
made it possible for him to harness the damned stuff; she should see 
this out.

David suddenly looks over at the window.

"What's wrong?"

"I thought someone was there.  Watching us."

She closes her eyes. He's getting paranoid, she's getting neurotic.  
If they're not doing anything wrong, why are they both so jumpy?

She gets up, her coffee mostly untouched.  "I have to get home."

"But you'll be back tomorrow?"

She nods.   She'll be back.  She'll probably always be back.  The 
siren song of this young genius and her own curiosity are too strong 
to resist.

Even though she knows she should resist.  Should just tell him and 
his mother to go to hell and let them finish Genesis on their own.  

"Christine.  It's going to be all right.  You'll see."

She turns and leaves, walking home as quickly as she can.  Jim isn't 
there when she arrives.  She hangs her coat up and wanders the rooms 
of their apartment, touching the things they've bought together 
since they moved back to Earth.  So much shared property, so many 
shared memories.  

And they are supposed to get married in a few months.  That thought 
used to make her ecstatic.  Now it just feels like the lies are 
closing in more.  

She laughs at herself.  Does she really think this will get worse 
when they are married?  

How can it possibly get any worse?

She hears the front door open, walks back out to the main room.  Jim 
is hanging up his coat, he doesn't turn to look at her.

"Hi."  She moves to him, wrapping her arms around him.  "Long day?"

He nods.

"Jim?"

He turns, stares at her.  "You'd tell me if you were unhappy, 
wouldn't you?"

"If I were unhappy with what?"

He shrugs.  "With anything.  Work.  Us."

"Sure.  Why?  Are you trying to tell me that you're sick of us?"  
She grins, wants to turn it into a joke.  She doesn't like how sad 
he seems or how hard his eyes are.  

Work must have really been bad today.  He has never come home like 
this before.

"No.  I'm not."  He seems disappointed in her answer, moves away and 
pours himself a drink.

She watches him, realizes she is still cold and wraps her arms 
around herself.

He glances over, his expression becomes even harder.

"Jim?  What is it?"

"Nothing.  It's been a bad day.  Didn't end well."  He stalks off 
toward his study.

She watches him go.  Feels another crack creeping down between 
them.  If love is a bridge, then this one is quickly becoming 
structurally unsound.

And she knows that most of that is her fault.  Lies fester.  

She's an idiot.

She's also trapped by her own ambitions.  Ambitions she didn't even 
know she had before Genesis.

She debates going into his study but then she hears the music start 
up.  Old jazz, the kind he loves and she doesn't.  The message 
couldn't be clearer:  "Stay away.  I don't want you."

She sighs.  She's not hungry, just cold.  She decides to go to bed 
and warm up there.

She wonders if he'll join her before she falls asleep.

He doesn't.

---------------------------

"Christine, you seem particularly distracted tonight."  Spock is 
looking down at the Ka'Vareth board.  

It's true.  She's made a mess of the game.  Almost as much as she's 
made a mess of her life.

She pushes her chair back, tips one of the pieces over.

"It is premature to admit defeat."

"What are the odds that I'll win?"

"Approximately one thousand three hundred to one, given the way you 
are playing."

"Well, there you go."  She gets up, walks over to the window, 
looking for Jim.  

She can smell the food; it's almost ready.  Where the hell is Jim?   
He knew Spock was coming over for dinner.

"You can trust me, Christine.  If there is a problem, I would like 
to help."

"It doesn't concern you," she says more sharply than she means to.  

"Of course.  My apologies for intruding."  He turns away.

She thinks she's actually hurt his feelings.  "No.  I'm sorry.  That 
was rude."  She turns away from the window.  "It's just a rough 
patch right now.  That's all."  

She and Jim will be fine.

She just needs to keep telling herself that.

Believing it might be a good start too.

She looks back out the window, sees Jim.  He's got Admiral 
Cartwright in tow.  She sighs.  He didn't tell her he was bringing 
Matthew.  Fortunately, she's cooked too much food.

In the old days, he would have told her.

In the old days, they actually talked.

He and Matthew barrel into the apartment, laughing.  Jim's smile 
fades a bit when he sees her.

That hurts.

But it's only fair.  She can feel her own expression tighten as she 
looks at him.

She senses Spock is missing nothing.  She is not sure how much of 
this Matthew is picking up.

She moves to the kitchen, gets the food ready.  Matthew helps her, 
like he always does.  

"Sure smells good, Christine."  He grins at her.  

"Thanks."  She tries to relax, figures she will if she has a few 
more glasses of wine.

As if he can read her mind, Jim is handing her a glass of red.  He's 
making short work of his own Scotch.

Great.  If this keeps up, they'll be lushes as well as strangers.

Dinner isn't as painful as it would be if it were just Jim and her.  
Matthew and Spock are keeping the conversation going with tales of 
the cadets.  Jim is smiling, but he doesn't chime in, even though 
she knows he must have a few funny cadet stories of his own.

Not surprisingly, she is afraid to share any funny Genesis-in-the-
making stories.  She's sure she'll slip up, mention Carol or David 
or something restricted.

Jim and the others never ask her about her work.  They all know 
she's working on something very sensitive.  They all understand that 
even though they might be cleared for it, that doesn't mean they 
need to know about it.  They're all good officers that way.

It makes it easier to lie to them.

She knows she could talk about things more than she does.  She could 
complain about the idiosyncrasies of her coworkers or talk about 
problems in general.  It's what her colleagues do at home.  But 
she's just as afraid that she'll accidentally mention protomatter as 
she is about outing her relationship with Jim's estranged ex-
girlfriend and son.  She knows it's her own guilt making her act so 
tightlipped.  But knowing why she is doing it doesn't make it any 
easier to stop.

After dinner, Spock tries to help her clean up, but she shoos him 
out of the kitchen.  She can hear the three of them out in the 
living room.  They sound much more relaxed.

She hates to think it is because she isn't there.

She knows it might be exactly because of that.

When she's done cleaning up, she goes to her study instead of 
joining them.  She finds it hard to concentrate on anything, finally 
gives up and stares out the window at what looks like a gathering 
storm on the horizon.  

"You okay?"  Jim is standing at the doorway, watching her.

She nods.  

"They left.  You didn't come out."

"I wasn't in the mood.  Sorry."

He sighs, steps farther into the room.  "Chris, we need to talk.  I 
can't stand this."

"So talk."

His face tightens.  The flip answer was definitely not the best.

"I'm sorry, Jim.  I'm just tired."

"You're tired a lot."

He's right.  She uses it as an excuse for everything.  Even for sex 
lately.  She's found that sex is just too much of a connection right 
now.  It is getting too hard to hide the truth.  

But she wants sex.  She wants him.  She wants to push him up against 
the wall right now.  She wants him to grab her and kiss her and 
force her to tell him the truth about Genesis and David and Carol.

It's the only way he's going to find out.

"I know you're having an affair."

Her jaw drops.  He knows what?

"I saw you--" he swallows hard "--and him.  The other day at that 
coffee place near your office.  Who is he?"

"You were spying on me?"

"I came by to surprise you.  I was going to take you out to dinner."

"Oh."  She stares at him, unsure what to say.  Of all the 
conclusions he could have leapt to, this is the last one she saw 
coming.  

"So.  How long has this been going on?"

"Jim, I know how it must have looked, but that's not what you saw.  
He's just a friend.  From work."

"Didn't look like just a friend.  Your conversation looked like life 
or death to me."  He smiles bitterly.  "I'm familiar with how 
intense you can be.  This was definitely you upset."

She moves toward him, but he shies away.  "You're right, Jim.  I was 
upset.  But it was just a work issue.  Something in the project that 
he and I disagreed on."

"Really?"  He looks far from convinced.

"Really."

He moves closer.  "Then you won't mind if I talk to him.  Ask him 
myself?"  He steps forward, grabs her arms.  "Who is he, Chris?"

She can feel her face go white.  "Jim.  I can't tell you that."

"Somehow, that's exactly what I figured you'd say."  He lets go of 
her, starts out of the room.  But he turns at the door.  "You still 
planning on going to Harry's this weekend?"

She nods.  She's been looking forward to seeing the ranch ever since 
Jim's uncle told them about it at dinner the last time he was in 
town.

"Well, don't.  I need some time alone."  His eyes are cold.  Colder 
than she's ever seen them.  "You stay here.  With your 'friend.'"

"Jim.  No."  She reaches out for him.  "Don't do this."

"Then tell me the truth, dammit!"

Her hand drops.  "I am telling you the truth."  The falseness of 
that statement rings between them.  

"No.  You aren't."  He turns on his heel and walks out.  She hears 
the door close to his study; the jazz starts up.

He doesn't come out all night.

---------------------------------

The apartment seems particularly empty with Jim gone.  He's back in 
Idaho.  Apparently, he enjoyed his weekend so much that he decided 
to take some leave and revisit it for a long weekend.

He never asked her if she wanted to come.

Christine roams the apartment like a caged animal, pacing back and 
forth as if she has been locked inside her own home.

The comm unit rings and she races to it.  Maybe it's him.  Maybe 
he's missing her and wants her to come.

It's Harry.  

"Hi," she says uncertainly.

"Hello, Christine."  He looks over his shoulder, as if afraid he's 
going to get caught taking to her.

"Something wrong?"

"Well, something must be.  You sure as hell aren't here, now are 
you?"

She looks down.  "I'd like to be."

"Then hop the nearest transporter and get your rear end up here."  
He glares at her.  He's not kidding around.

"I would.  But--"  She looks down.  She doesn't want to tell Jim's 
uncle that his nephew would rather not see his fiancee.

They've postponed the marriage again.  She supposes she should be 
grateful it's an informal thing.  Easily scheduled and rescheduled.  
Because they've been postponing it ever since they left the ship.  
Probably about the minute Jim started to sense she was keeping 
something from him, and she started to pull back because of all the 
lies she was telling.  

"Christine, Jim'll kill me if he finds out I called you.  But you 
need to get up here.  I don't know what's going on between the two 
of you, but..."  He sighs.  "Oh hell, look, I've got a houseguest 
right now.  Sweet thing.  Daughter of a friend.  Real looker.  Do 
you see the damn problem?"

She closes her eyes.  Nods.

"Do you care?"

"Of course I care.  It's just not that simple."

"They're getting on real well, girl.  See my houseguest is just back 
on Earth after a bad breakup.  I'm thinking she could use some 
comforting.  I'm also thinking Jim seems awfully eager to be the one 
giving that comfort.  You better get up here if you want to keep 
him."

He's cheating on her now.  It's only fair--in his mind anyway.  She 
hasn't given him any reason to think she's not cheating.

"Christine.  Get up here."

"Okay."  She feels something fill her.  Resolve.  Anger.  Guilt.  
Everything.  

The man she loves may soon be out of reach, and it's her fault.  

But she can fix this.  She can stop this.

She hurries out of the apartment, practically runs to the 
transporter station.   Somehow manages to talk the tech into beaming 
her directly to the ranch.  She hurries to the house, knocks 
loudly.  

Harry answers.  "Good, you're here.  He's in the barn."

She doesn't wait, starts to run and then sees Jim come out.  She 
realizes she is crying.  No wonder the tech took pity on her.

Jim starts walking toward her, as he gets closer he sees she is 
crying and begins to hurry.  "Chris, what's wrong?"

She throws herself into his arms.  Tries to talk but is crying too 
hard.

"What's happened?  Did someone get hurt?"

She pulls away.  "No.  I'm sorry."  

She sees a woman come out of the barn, can't tell much about her 
except she looks pretty--and young.  The woman watches them.

"Is that her?"

He doesn't look back.  "That's Antonia.  She's staying with my uncle 
until she gets settled."  His eyes narrow.  "Did Harry call you?"

She looks down.  She can't even protect Harry.  She hates 
lying.  "Yes," she says.  "He did."

No more lies.  That's what her new policy will be. 

No more goddamn lies.

"I'm going to kill him."

"Don't.  He's just worried about you.  About us."

"Chris, I'm not sure there's an us to worry about anymore."  He 
sighs.  "What the hell happened?  We were so happy."

She nods.  "It's this project, Jim.  I hate the secrecy.  I'm going 
to transfer out.  I'll tell them that.  We're at a transition point, 
it's the perfect time.  I don't care about it anymore.   I just 
don't want to lose you."  She looks down.  "Do you even love me 
anymore?"

"Oh, Chris."  He pulls her close, his arms tight.  His voice is more 
gentle than it has been for months.  "Of course I love you."

She sees Antonia go back into the barn.  "I'm not gonna ask you if 
you slept with her."  She knows that might make it look like she did 
sleep with David, but she doesn't care.  She just wants to start 
fresh.  With no more lies.

"I--"

She touches his lips with her fingers.  "I don't want to know.  
Everything else is in the past.  No more secrets.  And no lies.  
>From this moment on.   All right?"  She strokes his face.  "I love 
you.  I don't want anything to come between us."

She kisses him, feels him hesitate and kisses him with more passion 
until he responds, and his arms tighten around her.

"Do you have a bedroom here?" she asks.

"We have a perfectly good bedroom in our apartment.  Let's go back 
there now."  He looks guilty suddenly, and it hits her like a punch 
to the gut. 

He did sleep with Antonia.  He doesn't want to sleep with Christine 
in the same room.

Is it because he doesn't want to hurt her?  Or because he doesn't 
want to hurt Antonia?

"You want a ride into town?" Harry calls from the front porch.

"We're going to have words, old man."  Jim glares at him.

"That doesn't answer my question.  Should I go fire up the flitter 
or not?"

"Yes," she answers for both of them.  "Please."

Harry smiles and walks away, returns a moment later in the small 
flitter.  They climb in; the ride to town is silent, but Jim keeps 
squeezing her hand, and she keeps looking over at him as if to 
reassure herself that he is really coming home with her.

"Next time I see you, Christine, I hope you can stay a while," Harry 
says as they climb out of the flitter.

"Me too."  She smiles at him.  "Thank you."

He nods solemnly.  "Just as long as everything turned out okay.  
That way, I won't have to get mad that you went and told him I 
called you."

"Sorry.  I'm a bad liar."  If only that were true.

She follows Jim into the station, waits with him in line.  He holds 
her hand.  But there is something in his face, some sort of sadness 
she doesn't like.

Just how much does he feel for this other woman?  Does he love 
Antonia?

"If you want to turn around, I'm sure she'll still be there."  It is 
a stupid thing to say, but it is the only thing to say.  Sometimes 
you have to be brave and face things head on.

But her heart breaks a little as she says it.

He hesitates a moment too long.

She pulls away.  "Look.  Just go back then."

He doesn't move.  "It's not like that."

"Then what is it like?"

"It's just that I'm not sure we can be saved."

She feels all expression die on her face.  They're terminal?  As a 
doctor, she knows it's all over the moment she gives up on a patient 
living.

That is unless the patient has other ideas.

"We can be.  I know it."  She takes his hand.  "We were happy."

"Past tense."

"We will be happy.  Future tense."

He smiles slightly.  The tech motions them forward and he doesn't 
seem to hesitate.  She steps up too, gives the man the station they 
want.

The walk to their apartment is short, the elevator ride even 
shorter.  Their apartment seems so cold, so empty.

He sighs as they walk in, turns to her.  "At least keep your 
goddamned eyes open.  I don't want to have to wonder if you're 
pretending I'm some younger man."

She looks down.  It never occurred to her that David's age would be 
a factor in this.  But Jim has been touchy about his final approach 
to fifty.  She's not sure why--he's as vital as ever.

"You're the only one I see," she says, as she moves into his arms.

He kisses her, tentatively at first, then with more passion.  They 
don't bother getting to the bedroom, fall down on the couch and make 
love with the old intensity.  

She is careful to keep her eyes open.

She notices he does not call her name out, wonders if he is afraid 
to call out any name in case it is the wrong one.

As they lie together afterwards, there is something missing between 
them.  The sex was good, their kisses now are sweet.

But the trust is gone.  On both their parts.

She hopes not forever.


End part 1 of 3



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