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Date: Fri, 16 Jul 2004 11:04:30 -0400
Subject: [ASCEM-S] NEW: TOS Commander [R] 3/5 K/Ch, ChFF
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TITLE: Commander
AUTHOR: Djinn
CONTACT: djinn@djinnslair.com   http://www.djinnslair.com
SERIES: TOS
RATING: R
CODES: K/Ch, Chapel Fic Fest
PART: 3/5
DISCLAIMERS: Paramount and Viacom own these characters--I'm just
warping canon.
SUMMARY: Sequel to "Scientist." The continuing look at Chapel through



"Commander Chapel?"

Turning, she sees Spock at a table in the mess.  She walks over,
unsure why he wanted to see her.

"Please.  Sit."

She does, then looks around.  There are very few people in the mess
hall--lunch has been over for hours and the dinner rush hasn't
started.

Jim comes out of the serving area, carrying two cups of
coffee.  "Spock, are you sure you want your coffee this way?"   He
sees her and stops in his tracks, coffee sloshing a bit.

It's been a week since she had dinner with him.

Not that she's keeping track.

She stands up.  "I must have misunderstood, Spock.  Did you mean
some other day?"

He stands up and pushes her gently back into the chair.  "No.  I
meant today."  Walking over to Jim, he takes one of the coffees from
him and sets it down in front of her.  "If I remember correctly, you
prefer it with cream and sugar?"

Jim squints at him.  "I knew you didn't like sugar."

"The Fal-tor-Pan is quite a useful excuse.  For many occasions."
Spock indicates the seat he's just vacated.  "Please sit."

Jim sits.

She tries not to smile.

Spock looks down at them and shakes his head.  "The Enterprise will
be here for another three weeks.  I see no logic in the two of you
avoiding each other."  He starts to walk away.

"Spock."  Jim's voice is almost panicked.

Spock turns and nearly sighs.  "I was not aware you were afraid of
anything, Jim."  He looks at her.  "Perhaps you should ask him about
the scar on his arm?"  Then he does walk away, more quickly than
normal.

Jim slides his arm off the table.

"Show me?"

He sips at his coffee.

"Jim."

"It's nothing."

"I could come around and take a look for myself."

He looks up at her, and she sees the anger again.  "You could try."

"Forget it.  Forget this."  She stands up and hurries out of the
mess, leaving her coffee cup for him to deal with.

Spock is waiting outside.  "That did not go as I hoped."

She glares at him.  "What were trying to do?"

"Help you."

She gets in close, nearly in his face.  "Why?"

Nearly frowning, he says, "You are my friend.  I do remember that
now."

She laughs bitterly.  "It was my fault you died.  Do you remember
that?"

"While you were involved in the events leading up to my death, you
do not carry the sole blame. And it is a diffuse trail, with many
bends along the way.  You did not, for example, have anything to do
with Khan."

"He wouldn't have gotten loose if Reliant hadn't been there; Reliant
wouldn't have been there but for Genesis.  And Genesis wouldn't have
reached the stage it did but for my work with David."

"True, but have you considered another scenario?  Khan might have
freed himself from his prison some other way.  He might still have
come after Jim.  I might still have died trying to protect him, only
there would have been no Genesis planet to bring me back to life.
You cannot know how much you do or do not bear blame in this."  He
gently pushes her back. "Christine, if you do not mind?"

Jim comes barreling out of the mess, sees her and stops.

"Ah.  Jim.  Perhaps you are on your way to see Christine now that
you have had time to reflect on her hasty departure?  As you can
see, she has not run far."  It is clear from Spock's tone that he
considers them both idiots.

Jim glares at her.  "Come back in."

She glares right back.  "Give me one good reason I should."

His lips tighten, and he starts to turn away.

"Humans are fascinating.  You both want each other quite badly, yet
you will not admit it."

"Stay out of this, Spock."  Jim is clearly pissed.

She's no slouch in the short fuse department either.  "Don't take it
out on him.  At least he has balls enough to talk to me."

"You know, emergency ops has not helped your demeanor."

"Well, I'm sorry you don't like my demeanor."  She is about to turn
away when she feels Spock's hand on her back urging her into the
mess.

"I would like to issue a challenge.  How is it Doctor McCoy puts
it?  Oh yes.  I double dog dare you both to sit for fifteen minutes
and talk.  Preferably with a minimum of histrionics."

She glares at Jim again.  When Spock is reduced to spouting southern
dares, they really have fallen to an all time low.  She can see by
Jim's face that he is thinking the same thing, so she walks into the
mess and sits back down at their table.  The coffee is still there
and she sips at it.

Jim comes in a moment later.  He sits down and angrily pulls up his
sleeve.  There is a long scar near his wrist.

"Ouch."

He nods.

"Rock climbing?" she asks.  "Still working up to El Capitan?"

"I was on El Capitan.  Unfortunately, I wasn't on it quite long
enough."

"You fell?"

He nods, then shrugs.  "Spock was there.  To the rescue.  I didn't
die."

"You could have."  She stares at the scar.  "When did this happen?"

"After the hearing."

She looks down.  "Were you that unhappy?  Even with a new ship and
your career handed back to you?  You only take the extreme risks
when you're past caring."

"I wasn't--"  He sees her look and his mouth tightens.  He takes a
deep breath, then says softly, "I was alone... or I felt that way."
He sighs.  "I left Antonia after you came to Idaho."  He waits until
she looks up at him to continue.  "I didn't have to.  She and I
could have made it work, I think, even with me back in Starfleet."

The idea of that hurts.  She doesn't like how much it hurts.  "Then
why didn't you stay with her if it was so goddamned blissful?"

He sighs.  "Because of you."

"Me?"

He nods.  "I'm so damned angry with you, Chris."

She shakes her head.  "Maybe that's all there is to say.  Maybe you
need to go back to her then."

"I can't."

"Why?  She's beautiful, she's sweet and protective, and she loves
you.  What more do you want?"

"I want you."

"Oh."

He laughs, the sound unexpected.  "Back to that, are we?  We need to
find you a new word."

"So, if I understand correctly, you are angry with me."

He nods.

"And you want me?"

"Yes."

She takes a sip of coffee to hide how thrown she is.  "Angry sex,
Jim?  That sounds like a recipe for disaster."

"I know.  Why do you think I've stayed away?"

"You seemed so nice the other night at dinner."

"I didn't say this made sense."  He sips at his coffee, as if he too
is desperate for something to do.  "I wanted you so much that
night.  I couldn't get you out of my mind.  And the more I tried,
the angrier I got."  He shakes his head.  "Spock has been telling me
to stop avoiding you.  That I'm letting you become my personal bogey-
man."

"Spock's really upped his command of the vernacular, hasn't he?"
She leans forward.  "And why are we taking advice from a man who
hasn't dated in what?  A decade?"

He laughs.  "Probably ever.  I don't think he and T'Pring really
dated.  They just went from daycare buddies to betrothed in one easy
step."  He stares at her.  "It's easier to joke, isn't it?  About
him, about this.  Than to face it."

She nods.

There is a long silence.

She finally says, "If you want to end this.  If it's easier for you,
then we will.  You don't have to forgive me; you don't have to try
to get to know me again.  You don't have to do anything with me.
Just go out on your shiny new ship and find a new person to love."
She looks down.  "Or maybe an old one?  At dinner the other night,
you mentioned Carol a lot."  It hurt how easily he referred to the
woman he used to speak of with such misery.

"I'm not in love with Carol."  His tone brooks no argument.

"Well, then Gillian, maybe?  She was fun, right?  I got to know her
a little.  She had a real exuberance for life that I think would be
attractive to you."

"I'm not in love with Gillian, either."  He suddenly sounds
impatient.

"And Antonia?  Is that really over?  You had two years with her?"

"And I was jumping the ravine at the end."  He sighs.  "God help me,
I love her, but I'm not in love with her.  Not the way I should be."

"Well, I'm running out of candidates."  She knows she doesn't sound
helpful any longer; she sounds angry.

"Good."  He smiles, takes her hand and studies it.  "You have such
strong hands."

She waits.  Doesn't want to think about how good it feels to have
him touching her.  Even just like this.

"I'm in love with you," he says.  "I've been in love with you since
that damned shuttle and that damned virus.  I can't shake you."

She starts to laugh.  "I hope that wasn't supposed to be romantic."

He grins.  "It wasn't."  His grin turns into a frown.  "I don't
think it was, anyway.  You know, before you, I used to think I was
good at this."  He lets go of her hand, leans back in his chair, and
crosses his arms.

He looks very much like a ticked off little boy.

She finds him damn near irresistible.

"Don't look at me that way," he says softly.

She looks away quickly.  "Sorry."  When he doesn't say anything, she
asks, "So where are we, exactly?"

He smiles.  "We are right back where we started.  I want you, and
I'm pissed as hell about it."  He looks up at her, and for the first
time, there is not even a little anger in his eyes.

"As hell?"

He nods.

"Can I make it better?"

"God, I hope so."  He leans in.  "I have to go to a send-off soiree
tonight.  You have a dress uniform, I suppose?"

"I have several."   One of the benefits of taking Reed's job and
being promoted is that her uniform allowance was increased.

"Would you like to be my date, Commander Chapel?"  He laughs
nervously, as if he can't believe this is a good idea.

She's not certain it is either.  "Jim, are you sure?"

He doesn't answer at first.  Then softly, "Yes.  I'm sure."

She looks down.  "That's sort of what you said about dinner, and
then I didn't see you for a week."

"I know."  He laughs and she looks up at him.  "But this time,
Spock'll have my ass in a sling if I avoid you."

She smiles.  "That's true."

"I think he just wants his Ka'Vareth partner back."

She smiles.  "Maybe."  She finishes her coffee and stands up.  "I
have to get back. They're going to wonder if I got lost."

"I'll pick you up at at eighteen hundred?"

She nods.  "Provided you still remember where the apartment is?"

"I remember."  He looks down.  "And...I may have been by the
building a couple of times in the last week..."

She smiles.  "Really?"

He nods.  Sheepishly.

"I think I love that."  She takes a deep breath, one that is not
full of apprehension or sadness.  But actually of
anticipation.  "I'll see you later."

"Count on it."

He almost sounds convincing.

She gives him a look.

"I'll be there," he says.  This time he does sound sure.

She leaves him to finish his coffee in peace.

------------------------

Jim's send-off soiree is well attended, and the rooms are crowded at
Admiral Morrow's house.  There's barely anyone under the rank of
captain, but Christine realizes she knows just about everyone
there.  The old Christine Chapel would have been out of her element
and very nervous, but now she is relaxed, mingling comfortably with
Jim.

He is looking at her.  "You know more people here than I do, don't
you?"

"It's possible."

He laughs softly.  "Party's still for me.  I don't care if they like
you better."

He pretends to pout, and she chuckles.

"They don't like me better."  She takes his arm, leads him to the
bar and orders him a single malt.  Glancing over at their host, she
sees him gesture for Jim to join him.  "I think Morrow wants a word."

Jim takes a sip of his Scotch and nods.  "My latest marching orders,
I suppose."  He suddenly frowns.  "You didn't date him too, did you?"

She rolls her eyes.  "No."

"Good."  He starts to say something else, but she puts her hand on
his arm.

"Only Matthew.  And it was just a few dates.  I told you a long time
ago, you've ruined me for other men."

He looks far too happy about that.

"Go talk to Morrow."  She orders herself a cognac and joins Matthew
on the patio.

"You two back together?"

"Don't know yet."  She looks out over the bay--Morrow's view is
outstanding.  "Nice place."

"Yes."  He grins.  "Almost as nice as mine.  Why don't you know yet?"

She laughs.  Matthew is relentless when he is on a quest for
info.  "I just don't."

He shakes his head, as if she just doesn't get it.  "He loves you.
That's obvious."

"Well, I'm glad you think so."

He smiles at her gently.  "I know so, Christine.  The man is crazy
about you.  He brought you here with him.  I can't think of a more
public statement to that effect."  He grins.  "Or a more obvious
message to those of us who were a little too interested in his
woman."

She laughs.  "I think you're reading a lot into this."

"You're not a man."  Matthew grins, then looks past her, his smile
growing larger.  "Jim.  I was just telling Christine how good it is
to see the two of you together again."

Jim's hand snakes around her waist, pulling her close.  She glances
over at him, sees a possessiveness she doesn't expect in his eyes.
Maybe he is being more territorial about her than she realized?

He sips his Scotch, smiles.  "It's nice to be together again."  His
tone is a bit harsh, as if he's angry.

She supposes he might be--with both of them.

Cartwright doesn't seem to mind his friend's tone.  In fact, he
laughs and says, "Can't blame a man for trying."

Jim's tension seems to evaporate in the face of his friend's
openness.  He chuckles too.  "No.  I guess I can't."  His hand
tightens on her.  "You want to walk?  The grounds here are lovely."

She nods, lets him lead her away.  He drops her arm as they walk
down the patio steps and onto one of the paths that lead to the
cliffs, but as soon as they are out of sight of the house he draws
her to him and kisses her.   His lips are fierce, and he pulls her
closer than she expects.  He isn't hurting her, but he's making no
attempt to be gentle.

She searches his face, trying to figure out what he is feeling.

He's giving nothing away.  He stares at her, then pulls her in
again, kissing her gently this time before moving away.  "Come on."
Taking her hand, he leads her closer to the cliff.  "It's beautiful
here."  He hugs her tightly as she moves in to snuggle against him.

"Yes, it is."  She looks at him.  His face is still
unreadable.  "Why did you want me here tonight?"

His answer is immediate, his tone almost savage.  "Because you're
mine."

She swallows, feels her mouth go a bit dry.  "We're going to have an
interesting night, aren't we?"   When he doesn't answer, she looks
down.  "I thought you were against angry sex?"

He lets her go, moves away from her, closer to the cliff.  He stares
down at the crashing waves.  "I am."

She backs away a little bit, is suddenly dizzy standing so close to
the edge, even if there is a railing.  "Hate to break it to you, but
most of your kisses haven't been what I'd call tender."

"I know."  He runs his hand through his hair, mussing it up.

She makes a sound, and he turns to her.  With a smile, she finger
combs his hair back into place.  His eyes close as she touches him,
and she leans in, her lips soft on his cheek.

"I'm sorry," she says.

He shakes his head.  "Don't.  It wasn't just you.  I let you go.
Maybe I shouldn't have.  Maybe I should have tried to find a way to
understand."

She touches his cheek, smiles when he leans into her hand.  "It's
done.  Maybes won't do either of us any good.  There's only now and
what happens from here on out."

He nods.  "Only now."  He sighs, then he says softly, almost too
carefully, as if he is working hard to keep his tone
civilized.  "You're not going home tonight."

"I'm staying here with Morrow?"

He doesn't smile, and she laughs nervously.

"So much for my little attempt at humor."

"I'm not in the mood to laugh."  There is something in his eyes that
unnerves her.  He has never looked at her with quite such a
combination of desire and anger and possessiveness.

She looks down.  "Sorry."

He sighs again.  "Quit saying that."

"Okay.  Sor--"

He kisses her.  His lips are relentless, his arms like steel as he
holds her close.  Opening her mouth to his, she feels his tongue
slip in, questing, tasting, battling her own.  Her arms tighten
around him, and she moans.

He pulls away slowly.  She is almost afraid to look at him, almost
afraid to see how much anger he really does have for her.  He takes
her hand, leads her down the path, back to the house.  His thumb
rubs her palm, and she moans again.

Looking over at her, he smiles.  A dark and seductive smile.  She
feels as if her legs might collapse and tries to get hold of
herself.   This is Jim.   He'd never hurt her.

That thought doesn't keep her from being a little bit afraid.  And
very much aroused.

It's going to be an extremely long evening.

---------------------------

Jim pushes her inside his apartment, palms on the light, while with
his other hand he is locking out the world.  He leads her to his
bedroom, and she moans as he pushes her against the wall, as he
kisses her hard and fast.  Then he pulls away from her.

He slowly undresses her.  She notes that he doesn't rip her dress
uniform from her, takes his time stripping her, folding her clothes
and putting them on his dresser.   Somehow the care he is taking
makes her more nervous than if he lost control.  She stands naked
before him and shivers.

Pushing her against the wall again, he holds her there, staring at
her, his look hungry.  Then he lets her go.  "Undress me."  He
watches her as she takes his uniform off and folds it as carefully
as he did hers.

"I'm older," she says, suddenly embarrassed at his scrutiny.

"You're beautiful."  He moves against her, and the feeling of his
skin on hers is pure heaven.  They kiss for a long time.  His touch
begins to get harder, more fierce.  More possessive.

Finally, he pulls away.  "Go lie down on the bed."

She does what he says and waits for him, but he doesn't move, just
stands there watching her.  Then he turns to the closet, seems to be
looking for something, finally draws out some socks, which he ties
together into one long strand.   He walks over to her.

"You know what this is for?"

She nods.  Her mouth has gone dry.  This is not a game they've
played very often.

Tonight it's not a game at all.

"Get up now if you want to leave."

"Jim?"  She doesn't want to leave, but she is suddenly uneasy.

He nudges her, and she scoots over to give him room.  He slowly ties
the end of the strand to her left wrist, then he pulls her arm over
her head and winds the cloth around one of the metal bars on his
headboard, pulling her arm tight.

She makes a sound, not a moan exactly.  Almost a whimper.  It shocks
her.  "Jim?"

He kisses her.  His kiss is tender.

That only confuses her more.

Reaching for her other wrist, he pulls her arm over her head and
looks down at her.  "Last chance."

She swallows, then closes her eyes.

He kisses her again.  Then he ties the cloth around her wrist.  "Try
to break free."

She tries to get away.  Can't.

"Mine," he says, as he begins to kiss her again.  His hands are
roaming everywhere, relentless and teasing, never stopping anywhere
long enough for her to do more than groan as he touches her.  His
lips move lower, and lower still.  She forgets she is tied, tries to
reach for him and can't.

The feeling of helplessness that comes over her leaves her shaken--
and even more aroused.  She is his.  His tongue touches her and she
is gone, calling out his name as she bucks underneath his mouth.

Then he is holding her, his lips on hers, his hand gentle on her
face.  They kiss, and the kiss lasts forever, and she wants to weep
at the feeling of being with him again.

She tries to reach for him, can't move her arms and groans--in
frustration this time.  "Untie me."

He shushes her with his mouth, moving so he is over her, then in
her.  He is kissing her as she strains at the ties, his body moving
harder and faster until she can barely think.

Then suddenly he is moving a little too hard, and she cries out in
fear.  He stops instantly.

"Chris?"

She panics, tugs at the socks and feels tears welling up when they
don't give.

"Chris.  No, it's okay."  He is working the socks loose, tearing
them off her hands.  "Shh. It's okay."

She is weeping, only it's no longer because she's afraid.  She
says, "I'm sorry," over and over and over, and he is kissing her and
telling her it's all right, and finally she grinds up against him,
does it again and again, until he starts moving inside her again.
She clenches down, and he calls out her name as he comes, his hands
tightening painfully in her hair.  But she doesn't protest, just
holds him and cries again as he kisses her.

"You're not the only one who's mad, you know," she whispers into his
chest.

"I know."  He rolls off her, pulling her close and burying his head
in her hair.  "I love you," he says.  "I love you, Chris."  His
voice sounds a little broken as he says, "You're mine."

She pulls away, and he wipes the tears off her face.

"I'm sorry," he says.  "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"You didn't hurt me."  She kisses him, desperate, hungry kisses.  "I
love you, Jim."

He brushes her hair away from her face, stares at her.

"I'm okay," she says.

He nods, kisses her cheek.  "Just wanted you so much."  He stops,
presses his cheek against hers.  "Wanted to make you p--"

She holds him close.  "Wanted to make me pay?"

"Not very nice."  He sounds utterly disappointed in himself.

"No.  It's not very nice.  But I understand the sentiment."  She
presses herself against him.

His body is so warm, and they fit together the way they always
have.  Like every hollow and curve is made just for the other.

"It's all right."  She lets her hands roam, getting to know him
again.  She feels the new scar on his arm, feels another new one on
his back.  "Where did you get this from?"

He shakes his head.

"Jim?"

He laughs.  "I rode Caya after you left that day.  Took her out and
tried to make her jump that damned ravine.  She bucked me off.  Then
she jumped it on her own."  He kisses her.  "She always reminded me
of you.  So goddamned contrary."

She laughs.  "I love that horse."

"She's yours then."

"Isn't that up to Harry?"

"Oh.  Well, I'm sure he'll agree."  He smiles and it is a happy
smile.   He touches her face.  "Look, ma. No more anger."  He turns
away.  "I'm sorr--"

"--Stop saying that."  She laughs.  Kisses him.  Loves the feel of
it, laughs again.  "Neither of us is allowed to say 'sorry' anymore
tonight."  She kisses him again.  "Deal?"

"Deal."  He pushes her to her back.  "Are you still angry at me?"

She shrugs.  She's not being flip.  She's just not sure.

"Not right this moment anyway, huh?"  He smiles, touches her face
gently.  "I love you."

They make love again.  And again.  And again.  She picks up the
socks, ties him up with them.  Rides him as he lies helpless.  As
she arches back, trying to stretch out the pleasure so it never
ends, she realizes he's worked himself loose from the ties, is
holding her.  She laughs.  It doesn't matter--bound or not, he's
still hers.

He'll always be hers.  Just as she'll always be his.

Sweaty, utterly exhausted at last, they lie quietly--finally
together.

----------------------------

Christine feels something on her cheek, swats it away and hears a
low chuckle.  She opens her eyes, feels Jim's lips touch down on her
face again lightly, so lightly they tickle.  She smiles as she pulls
him onto her and hears him laugh as he settles over her, between her
legs.

"Have I ever told you how pleasant you are to wake up," he asks as
he begins to move inside her.

"Mmmmm."

"And you're so articulate in the morning."  Laughing again, he
kisses her tenderly.  Then he lays his lips next to her ear,
whispers.  "I'm so sore."

"I am too," she whispers back.  Everything hurts.  Everywhere
aches.  But she doesn't want him to stop.

"We're not young," he says softly.

She laughs, begins to run her fingers over his back, as lightly as
he was kissing her, making him shiver.  "We're not as young."

"Semantics."  He closes his eyes, moves slowly.

Being with him like this feels so good to her even though her body
is tired, and she's had a few hours sleep at best.  "Don't stop,"
she mumbles as she kisses him.

"I wasn't planning on it," he says when she finally pulls away.
Smiling at her, he runs his hand down her cheek.  "I've missed you."

"And I've missed you."  Lying under him, being with him again, it is
almost too much.  She looks away.

"Chris. Look at me."

She does, feels her eyes well with tears.

"I love you," he says.

"I love you, Jim."

He kisses her again, his lips gentle, his tongue moving slowly
against her own.  Then he pulls back, smiles almost sadly as he
wipes her tears away.  "How many years did we waste?"

She shakes her head.  "Too many."  She wraps her legs around
him.  "I was lonely without you."

He nods.

She shoots him a glance.  "You weren't exactly alone."  She tightens
her legs.

"No, I wasn't.  But do you really want to talk about this now?"  He
shoots her one of his grins, the kind that light up the quadrant,
then he begins to move faster.

Throwing her head back, she arches up to meet him.  "I guess not."

"Good."  He closes his eyes, moans low, and moves faster still.

She is moaning too, the sound changing each time he moves against
her.  She closes her eyes, feels herself losing control.  The
sensation goes on a long time as her exhausted body climaxes under
him.  He follows her, nearly collapsing on top of her.

"I think I'm dying," he whispers as he moves just enough so his full
weight isn't on her.

"I know I am."  Her body aches, and she is so tired she feels sick.
She lets her eyes close.

He pulls the covers up over them, kisses her, and closes his
eyes.  "Go back to sleep.  It's not a workday."

She's glad he said that.  She's so sleepy she can't remember what
day it is.  "Are you sure?"

"Positive."  He nestles against her, and a moment later his
breathing changes, his body relaxing against hers.  He doesn't let
go of her though, is still holding her tightly as if afraid she'll
run away.

He doesn't have to worry.  She'll never run away.  She might kill
him, but she'll never run away.

She listens to him breathe for a little while, amazed that they are
together, that he loves her and wants her.  That he has forgiven her
and she has forgiven him.

More or less.

She laughs softly.  They still have a lot to work out.  But it can
wait till she feels human again.

Closing her eyes, she falls back to sleep.

--------------------------

She wakes to golden sunlight and the soft purr of sexy jazz--the
kind he knows she likes--out in the living room.  The bed is empty,
but by the good smells filling the apartment she can tell that her
lover hasn't gone any farther than the kitchen.  She stretches,
feels aching muscles protest but not the way they had been earlier.
She looks at the chrono, laughs.  Hours have gone by.  The sun is
going down, not coming up.  They've slept the day away, or she has
anyway.

Jim comes in with a cup of coffee and sets it down on the bedside
table.  "Good morning."

She laughs.  "I think it's almost evening."

"It is."  He grins.  "But since we just woke up and since I'm making
you breakfast, just pretend it's morning."

She nods and stares at him, drinking in the sight of him in his
robe, smiling at her, loving her.  After losing him, she knows she
won't ever take his presence for granted.

He touches her face.  "Why so serious?"

"I keep thinking what if."  She feels as if she is going to start
crying if she keeps talking, so she reaches for the coffee, sips
it.  Cream and sugar.  He fixes it perfectly.

"What if?"  He sighs.  "What if this hadn't worked?   Or we'd never
tried?  Or we did and it didn't work out?"

She nods.  "All of the above."  She sets the coffee down.  "I can
spin you a hundred what if scenarios.  What if you'd told me to go
to hell when I came to Idaho?  What if you'd never come to ops that
day and wanted to talk?  What if Spock had stayed dead, and you'd
never gotten over it...or I hadn't...or Len hadn't?  What if--"

"--I get the picture."  He smiles tenderly at her.  "I know
scenarios are what you live and die by in ops, but there is
reality."  He pulls her into his arms, holds her for a long moment
before kissing her and letting her go.  "And reality says I'm about
to make you Ktarian eggs."

She grins.  "Where did you get those?  They're my favorite."  And
nearly impossible to find.

"I have my sources."  He laughs.  "And, yes, I remember they're you
favorite."

She looks at him suspiciously.  "Did you have them on hand for
someone else?"

"Antonia hates them."  He shakes his head.  "And you know they spoil
so quickly it's ridiculous."

He's right, they do.  If he has them on hand, then he bought them
for her.  He can't stand them either.

"You had this all planned out?"

He picks up the strand of socks from his side of the bed.  "Well,
obviously not all of it, or I'd have had something a little more
prepared in this department."  He tries to undo the socks but has
trouble with the knots.  "Guess this is recycler bound."

She takes it from him, opens the drawer of the table and drops it
in.  "We may want it again."  She laughs at his grin.  "And besides,
it's part of our first night back together.  I feel very sentimental
about it."

He takes her hand and brings it to his lips, his mouth lingering on
her skin.  "If I do any more than this, we'll never get out of bed."

"Would that be so bad?"

"No.  It would be heaven."  He smiles as he gets up and walks to the
closet.  Tossing her a robe, he says.  "Come on.  Watch me cook your
eggs."

She smiles.

Just like old times.

It is the sweetest feeling in the world.

End part 3 of 5




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