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Date: Sat, 17 Jul 2004 15:05:59 -0400
Subject: [ASCEM-S] NEW: TOS Revenant [R] 4/6  K/Ch, ChFF
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TITLE: Revenant
AUTHOR: Djinn
CONTACT: djinn@djinnslair.com   http://www.djinnslair.com
SERIES: TOS
RATING: R
CODES: K/Ch, Chapel Fic Fest
PART: 4/6
DISCLAIMERS: Paramount and Viacom own these characters--I'm just
warping canon--and trying to explain some things.
SUMMARY: Sequel to "Commander" and the final installment in the look


Christine hears a noise at the front door and reaches for her
Daqtagh.  She has never felt threatened here, not even when Spock
has been away on his frequent diplomatic missions.  But whoever has
come in is trying to be very quiet and that worries her.  Jim still
has plenty of enemies on Qo'noS--not all of them want to party with
her and Spock.

And Spock isn't here to party with.  Just her, the defenseless
human.  She grips the Daqtagh tighter.  Not totally defenseless.
Getting up, she pulls her robe on, then creeps out of her bedroom
and into the main room.

A rising eyebrow greets her as Spock puts down his carryall and
studies her.  "I see you have gone native."

Lowering the knife, she glares at him.  "You weren't due back for a
week.  And why were you being so quiet?"

"It is late.  I did not want to wake you if you were sleeping."  He
is staring at her.

She realizes her robe has fallen open and ties it shut.  "So why are
you back?"

"I postponed my visit to Vulcan."

"Why?"

The look he gives her is searching.

"What?"  She moves toward him, feels a sinking in the pit of her
stomach.  He's never shown so much interest in her nightclothes
before.  And he's still staring at her.  "It's not that time of the
decade, is it?"

He actually smiles.  Just the smallest tip of his lips in the upward
direction, but it is a definite smile.  "No.  It is not the Pon
Farr."

"Well, that's a relief, because, you know..." She is unsure where
she is going with the thought, so she just waves the knife around in
an almost threatening manner.

"I stand warned."  He moves to her.  "I have missed you, Christine."

She sets the weapon down and hugs him.  As always, it is a surprise
that he allows it.  But he has let her do this since that day she
first had to use her Daqtagh.  His arms close around her, and she is
reminded of his strength as she sinks into his embrace.

She feels a touch on her cheek, thinks she imagines it.  There is no
way Spock just kissed her.

"So why did you come back early?"

He pulls away enough to look at her.  "I was tired.  And I needed to
come home.  And much to my surprise, you and this planet seem to
represent that to me far more than my home world does."

She stares at him, unsure what he wants her to do with that
information.  It touches her to know he thinks of her that way.  But
it confuses her too.  Surely he is not saying...

"Is that sentiment unwelcome, Christine?"  Stroking her hair away
from her face, his hands stop to rest on either side of her head.
His skin is warm, so warm.

"No.  Not at all."  She can feel his pulse though his hands--it is
racing.  "Spock?  What are you doing?"

"Nothing, if you do not want it."  His eyes are intense, more so
than she's ever seen.  "I know I am not Jim.  I know I can never be
him for you, and that what you felt for him is not something you can
call back up."  His hands run though her hair, then move to her
face, tracing the lines of her cheeks, her forehead.  "But...perhaps
you can feel something else for me?  I care for you, Christine.
Very much."

His fingers are dancing over the meld points and she shivers.
Desire--she can feel it even without the meld.  He wants her.

She reaches up, touches his face, and he groans softly and closes
his eyes.

He really wants her.

She laughs softly, sees his eyes fly open as if he is afraid she is
making fun of him.  She smiles at him, doesn't stop stroking his
face, his ears, his neck.  "I can't be Jim for you either.  I know
you loved him."

He nods.  "I am not asking you to be him."

Leaning against him, she feels him push back.  "Maybe we both
represent that last link to him, though.  Even if neither of us can
be him.  Maybe that's why you want me?"

"Perhaps.  But I want you for yourself as well.  I did not rush back
here to recapture Jim."

"No?"

He shakes his head.  Then he kisses her.  The mechanics of a kiss
are so simple, yet being with Spock is nothing like being with Jim.
His lips feel hotter, but less demanding.  He is waiting for her to
meet him.  He needs that from her.

He is unsure of her.  Wrapping her arms around him, she kisses him
back, feels him relax.

When they finally pull away from each other, she searches his
face.  "Are you sure this is a good idea, Spock?"

"No, I am not."  He gently pushes her toward his bedroom.  "I am
sure, however, that I do not care whether it is or not.  I want you."

She laughs.  It is such a wonderfully impulsive thing for him to
say.  He kisses her again, and she runs her hands up under his
shirt, feels his skin--so much hotter than her own--and the dark
hair that covers his chest.  He is built differently than Jim.
Lean, almost lanky.  Yet he is strong as he pulls her to him, as he
kisses her again and pulls off her clothes and his own in one long
impatient flow of pants and shirts and under things.  Then he is
lifting her up, and she wraps her arms around his neck, her legs
around his waist, and settles onto him.

She gasps at the feeling.  It has been so long since she and Jim
made love, and she did not think she would ever want this with
another man.

But she wants Spock.  She wants him badly.

His hand finds her face, touches down on the meld points, and he is
in her mind, just as he was when they shared consciousness so long
ago.  She can feel his desire for her, and a rush of affection and
admiration from him too, and coloring it all is Jim and how much
they both loved him.

"I love you," Spock tells her, the sound ringing through her mind.
Then he is worming his way deep, into her memories.

Her memories of loving Jim.

She gasps, tries to pull away.  He is instantly back with her; her
memories are safe.

"Christine.  I did not intend trespass.  I just want to please you.
I know Jim did.  I am not sure that I will and I thought...if I knew
how he did..."

"You'll please me."  She kisses him, holding his fingers in place as
she does it.  "But please me as yourself, not as him."

He kisses her back almost desperately.  "I beg forgiveness."

"I forgive you.  Just ask first before you go traipsing through my
memories."

She can feel that what she has said resonates with him in some way
she doesn't completely understand.  She can sense him falling away
from her, as if disappointed in himself.  So much so that he thinks
he no longer deserves this--no longer deserves her.

"Spock."  She kisses him again, her tongue finding his, and as she
touches him, she feels his shock of desire.  "Spock, come back to me
and finish what you started."  She can hear her own amusement
ringing through the meld.

It seems to be the best approach.  It occurs to her that it is what
Jim would have done.  She can hear the echo of that thought from
Spock.  Jim will always be a ghost between them.  But that's all
right.  They both loved him; they will not mind his company.

Spock carries her to the bed and somehow manages to get them both
onto it without falling or crushing her.  She decides she loves
Vulcan strength.  She knows she loves him.  She tells him so, in
words and then tries to project the love through the meld.  She can
feel his satisfaction.

Then he deepens the meld, and she is lost in the sensation of his
pleasure and her own.  She can't begin to compare it to Jim anymore;
it is so different...so alien.  When Spock comes, he doesn't make a
sound, but his pleasure screams through the meld.  He keeps moving,
doesn't seem to need to stop despite his climax.  He begins to touch
her, his fingers moving over her until she cries out.  She can feel
her pleasure ricochet through the meld.  It is so intense she is not
sure if she is coming again or just reliving what's happened.

She has the strange, disconnected thought that she is glad Jim never
made love to Spock.  He would never have wanted to leave his
friend's bed if he'd tasted this.

To her surprise, Spock laughs.  Not loudly, or long, or even very
hard.  But he is amused.

And pleased.

He is pleased that he has pleased her.  He is pleased that she
thinks he would have pleased Jim.

He lets go of her face, and the meld eases.

Opening her eyes, she kisses him.  "I'm glad you came home early."

"As am I."  They lie together quietly for a while, then he says
softly.  "Will you come to Vulcan with me?  I will go in two weeks."

"Come with you?"

He nods.   "My father thinks highly of you."

She chuckles.  "Yes, he thinks highly of all the people who nearly
get him killed by visiting probes."

She kisses Spock, feels a rush of pure affection at the sweet way he
kisses her back.  He is not Jim.  But he is her friend, and now her
lover.  And she loves him, has loved him, even if not this way, for
a long time.

And she knows Jim would approve.  He would not have wanted either of
them to be lonely.

Especially if they both still love him best.  She grins at that
thought.  Jim was generous, but he also liked to be first.

"You will come then?"  Spock looks worried.

She nods.  "I'll come."

She cuddles in next to him, feels his arms go around her, pulling
her even closer.  She is unsure what to do, does not know if the sex
is over or just beginning.  She studied Vulcans when she had her
crush on him, but information on their sexual habits was hard to
find and not detailed when she did find it.

"Are you tired?" he asks.

"No."

"Do you still desire me?"  He sounds tentative, almost awkward.

She feels such a rush of tenderness for him it leaves her
breathless.  She doesn't answer, lets her kiss tell him that she
still wants him, let's her questing hand tell him that she needs to
be touched again.

He moans as she grasps him--there is no doubt that he still desires
her.

She smiles as she moves out of his arms, as she pushes him to his
back and crawls onto him.  He looks so complete as he watches her,
his hands holding her, helping to move her.

"You saved me."  She moves faster.  "You know that?  You saved me
when you brought me here."

"You were so alone.  How could I not try to help?"  He pulls her
down so he can kiss her.  His tongue works at her lips, and she
opens her mouth to him.  When he finally lets her sit back up, he
says, "You were my friend.  You are my love."

His world is still such a simple place at times.

It is one of the reasons she loves him.

-----------------------

Amanda's garden seems to glow in the tolerable heat of night.
Christine wanders through the primarily white flowers, stopping to
inhale the aroma of night-blooming jasmine and lovely, huge roses.

She hears the door open and turns to see Sarek stepping out into the
garden.

"You enjoy my wife's garden?"

She smiles.  "Very much."

He joins her by the rose bush.  "She used to plant more colorful
flowers.  But it was too hot during the day to enjoy them, and they
faded into the darkness when the sun set."  He touches the petal of
one of the roses.  "So she created a night garden."

"It's beautiful."

"Yes.  And very fragile.  It takes constant care for these flowers
to thrive here."  He turns to look at her.  "Fortunately, my wife
thrives here with greater ease."

"Indeed."  She has been around Spock too long.  It is something he
would say.

"I did not have the opportunity to express to you my deep sorrow at
the loss of James Kirk.  He was a man of excellent character and
deep loyalty to those he loved."

She feels a familiar rush of pain when she thinks of Jim, but it is
somehow muffled now.  By Spock she thinks.  By loving him.  She
looks up at his father and smiles gently.  "Thank you, Sarek."

They walk a bit, and he identifies the flowers she does not
recognize.  When they reach the end of the garden, she sits on a
bench and Sarek joins her.

"I was surprised when my son told us you would be coming."

"Not half as surprised as I was," she says, with a grin she knows is
Jim-worthy.  She wonders if Sarek can see a bit of Kirk in the
expression.

Sarek appears to miss it.  "It is not good for a man to be too
alone.  And my son, I fear, is often isolated."

She can see where Sarek is going with his explorations, decides to
make him work for the knowledge that she suspects Amanda sent him
out to gather.

He looks at her, as if surprised she does not answer, then he
continues gamely on.  "My son seems less isolated this time.
Perhaps we have you to thank for that?"

She grins at him.  "Amanda put you up to this, didn't she?"

He begins to say something, and she shoots him one of her Emergency
Ops looks.   A look she has perfected on Qo'noS dealing with
Klingons.

He stops talking, regroups.  "It is possible that Spock's mother has
some understandable curiosity about the state of her son's heart."

It seems an awfully romantic way for him to say Amanda wanted to
know if Spock and she were involved.  But she is beginning to
suspect that Vulcans are far more romantic than anyone gives them
credit for.

"Yes, I can see how she might be curious."  She smiles innocently at
him.  Amanda has given Spock and her separate rooms--with a
convenient connecting door.

"Christine..."  Sarek's voice is no longer that of the master
diplomat of Vulcan, but only a slightly frustrated father.

She decides to put him out of his misery.  "We're together."

He nods.  "Good.  My wife will be most pleased."

She laughs.  "You, of course, could care less about Spock's
happiness."

"Happiness is an emotion."

"Right.  And you'd never have one of those."  She looks up at the
night sky awash in stars, takes a deep breath of the fragrant
air.  "I can see through your little ploy, Sarek. I know you care
about him."

He makes a sound--not quite a sigh, more than an exhalation.  "It is
possible that logic deserts me when it comes to my son."

"I can believe that."  She thinks it is possible logic deserts Spock
too.  She's never seen two men have a harder time relating than
Spock and his father.  It's not logic that stands in their way; it
is all the emotions that rise between them almost without any effort
on their part.

Len would say that they just rub each other the wrong way.

She suddenly misses Len very much.  Maybe they should go to Earth
and see him?

The door opens again and Spock comes out.  "Christine?" he calls
softly.

Sarek looks at her.  "I will leave you alone.  I am glad you are
with my son.  I have always respected you."

"I like you too, Sarek."  She grins at him.

An elegant eyebrow is her answer, then he stands.  "She is here, my
son."

Spock comes to her, seems to be walking with almost exaggerated
care.  As if he is in no hurry to reach them.  As if he is not dying
to know what they've been talking about.

"Good night, father."

"Good night, Spock."  Sarek turns to her, dips his head to
her.  "Good night, Christine."

"Good night," she murmurs, as Spock sits down next to her.

As soon as the door shuts behind his father, he takes her hand.  She
laughs at him, and he shoots her a glance she can only call annoyed,
so she leans in and kisses his cheek.  When she goes in for another
pass, he turns so she has to kiss him on the lips.  It is no
hardship.

As they kiss, she hears the sound of people talking in the
neighboring gardens.  Evening must be the time to stroll through the
flowers, enjoying the relative coolness.

Vulcan saps her strength far more than Qo'noS ever has, even though
she expected to hate living on the Klingon home world.  But there is
a vitality and rawness to the heat and dust there, an energy that
seems to be lacking in the logic-filled parlors of Spock's home
world.

She can't believe she is homesick for Qo'noS.

"I am glad you came," Spock says softly.

"Was your mother grilling you about me?"

"Unmercifully."

She grins.  "She sicced your father on me."

"And did you fall before the great negotiator of Vulcan?"

"Oh, yes."

"Good.  Then he will tell her, and she will leave us alone."  He is
almost smiling.  "Will you sleep with me tonight?"

She has slept with him every night since they became lovers.  But
she finds it charming that he asks.  "If you want me to."

"I do."  He pulls her close, and they sit quietly together.   Then
he says softly, "I told my mother about us.  She will not have to
hear it from Sarek."

She turns to look at him.

"I do not want you to think that I am ashamed of you."

She kisses him.  He is so sweet sometimes.  "And just how much did
you tell her?"

"Admittedly, not much.  That would have spoiled her fun, and been
out of character for me."  He gives her another almost-smile and she
grins at him.

"I understand.  I didn't tell Sarek much either."

"They will no doubt have much to talk about when they retire."

She laughs softly.  "No doubt."  She rests her lips against his
cheek, kissing slowly down to his throat.  He does not stop her,
just tilts his head up and to the side to give her more access.

She never expected loving Spock to be this easy.

It is the best kind of surprise.

-----------------------

Being back on Earth feels strange after so long on Qo'noS.  She is
struck by how green everything is as they walk from the transporter
station to Len's home.  She looks over at Spock, sees him give her
one of his miniscule smiles.  She knows he is a little nervous, felt
that in the meld when they made love in their cabin on the shuttle.
This is the first time together with their friends.

She allows herself to drift, bumps up against his shoulder.  "They
won't mind that we're together.  What is, is, right?"

He nods, and his hand glances off of hers, the touch just long
enough for him to stroke her skin lightly.  She would never have
guessed how tactile he is, how much comfort she derives from
touching and being touched by him.

Len is on the front porch of his house, Uhura and Scotty sitting by
him.  "Sure, just because you're coming from Qo'noS, you think you
can be the last to arrive?"  He lifts his drink to them.  "Wish me
happy birthday, at least."

"Happy birthday, Len," she says as she walks up the stairs and leans
down to kiss his cheek.  "You don't look a day over forty."

"Thirty, dammit.  And don't try to flatter me."  He pulls her
closer, whispers, "You two together?"

She whispers back, "Yes.  And don't tell me you planned for this to
happen."

"Planned might be stretching it.  Hoped for--now, that'd be true."
He kisses her again, then lets her up.  "So, Spock.  Is having
Christine on Qo'noS agreeing with you?"  He winks at her.

Spock nods.  "Her company is quite satisfying."

"Interesting choice of words, my friend," Len says.

She hopes she is not blushing.  Sees Nyota grin and knows that she
is.

Scotty seems oblivious, or else he's just taking pity on her and
Spock.  "Good to see you both here."  He smiles.  "I'll be outward
bound myself in a few weeks.  I'm retiring on Norpin V, finally."

Scotty has been talking about retiring for years, but Christine
wasn't sure he'd ever really make the move.  She can't imagine him
not on a ship.  She smiles at him.  "Congratulations."

"Let's get you a drink so you can toast him properly," Len says,
getting up and motioning for her to follow him.

His house is bright and welcoming, just what she expected.  "Nice
digs."

"Well, it's not a Klingon fortress."  He laughs.  "So how are you?
You look great."

She smiles.  "I'm good.  You were right to send me away."

"I hated to do it, Christine.  It broke my heart, in fact.  But you
weren't doing anyone any good, least of all yourself.  And I don't
mind telling you, I was a little bit scared."  He looks out the
front door, where Spock is sitting down next to Uhura.  "For him
too.  I just thought..."

"You thought right.  Even if it was the last thing I expected."  She
smiles at him.  "Did you really think this would happen?"

He shrugs.  "I know how much you loved Jim.  And how much Spock
loved him too.  And once upon a time you had pretty warm feelings
for our Vulcan friend."  He lifts a glass.  "Mint julep?  I'm fresh
out of bloodwine."

She laughs.  "How about some Scotch?"

He smiles as he grabs a different glass. "Single malt?  In honor of
Jim?"

"Of course."  She takes the glass, sips at it.  She hasn't had
Scotch in a long time, hasn't wanted to have it.  "Can you make a
non-alcoholic julep for Spock?"

"Sure."  He grins at her. "Pretty handy having someone around who
actually knows what he likes."   His look becomes devilish.  "And I
imagine it's pretty interesting what that man likes, isn't it?"

"No power on this Earth, Len."  She grins at him, holding her glass
out.  "Thank you."

He clinks his against hers.  "Seeing you happy again is all the
thanks I need."  He hands her Spock's virgin julep.  "Now, tell me
about the state of medicine on Qo'noS.  And do I still have a bad
name over that little Gorkon thing?"  He has the grace to look
embarrassed.  "Don't know what in the Sam Hill I thought I was
doing."

She laughs.  Decides not to tell him that Khorta calls a
misdiagnosis a "McCoy."  It sounds even worse when said with a
Klingon accent--roughly like someone trying to clear their throat.

Following him back out to the porch, she tells him a little bit,
leaving out the harsher realities.  She's not sure she's ready to
share that, doesn't think Spock will mind if she lets some aspects
of Klingon life stay safely on Qo'noS.

She hands him the drink.  "It's lemon and mint," she says.  Much
like the tea he's so fond of.

He tastes it, and not gingerly.  He trusts her.  "It is good.  Thank
you."

"Thank, Len.  He's the bartender here."  She sips at her Scotch,
sees Spock looking at it.   "I was feeling nostalgic."

His look is untroubled.  "I understand.  It is good to be back."

"Yes, it is good to be back."  They share a long look, and she
realizes that neither of them is calling Earth home.  Home is where
the other is.  Home is Qo'noS.

-----------------------

Christine collapses into a chair in Gramton's main room, tired after
spending the afternoon with Khorta cleaning up the wreckage of
another feud.  She looks down at the Klingon clothes Khorta has
given her to replace the uniform she ruined.  Good thing she picked
up more when she and Spock were on Earth. Although, she has to admit
the Klingon leathers and furs are more comfortable than she would
have expected.

Her hair is still wet from the shower she took when they finally
arrived back at the Gramton stronghold, and she finger combs it back
from her face.  It was a short shower--she no longer spends all
night cleaning up from one of these missions.

And she no longer throws up.  In fact, she's salivating smelling
whatever Gramton is cooking in the courtyard.  Is she turning as
hard as Qo'noS?  Or just adapting?  Maybe it's the same thing.

"Smells good," she smiles at Gramton as he comes in with a heaping
platter.

Hehnak is following him, grabbing bits of meat from the platter as
his father pretends to scowl at him.

"It is Sh'iril," Gramton says.  "Have you had it?"

She shakes her head.

"It's a delicacy--once you remove the venom sacs."

She frowns.  "It's a snake?"

"Yes.  A fierce one--its bite is deadly, and there is no antivenin.
It is a most worthy opponent of a warrior such as myself."  He grins
at her.  "Shall I tell you how I captured this one?"

Hehnak nods for her.  Then he looks over at her, as if surprised to
see her in native dress.  "You look good," he says brusquely, then
turns back to his father.  "Tell us of the sh'iril."

"Have you charmed my son, Christine?" Gramton asks.  "He is a bit
young to take as your next ParMach'kai.  Or perhaps your affections
are already given?"

Khorta comes in.  "You are an old gossip, Gramton."  She winks at
Christine.  "Everyone knows her heart beats only for Kirk."

Gramton doesn't look convinced.  Christine glances at Khorta,
wonders if she has guessed that she and Spock are together now.
They haven't announced it, see no reason to, and their behavior when
they aren't behind closed doors hasn't changed much.

Khorta looks over at her and gives her a knowing smile, then she
turns back to her husband.  "Yes, Gramton, tell us of the sh'iril
kill."

The servants begin to cut the meat and pass the plates around.
There is no gagh tonight so Christine does not have to think up
elaborate ruses for avoiding it.  She tastes the meat, smiles in
appreciation.  It is good.

Gramton stands up.  He pulls a spear from the wall.

"No bat'leth?" Christine asks, grinning.

"Klingons are brave, but they are not fools."  He glares at
her.  "No more interruptions.  This is an exciting tale."

"Sorry."  She goes back to eating, washing the meat down with
bloodwine.

"I approached the fields where the sh'iril are known to congregate
during the mating season."  He looks at her.  "At other times, they
stay far underground.  In a few weeks, they will be gone again."

She nods understanding, smiling broadly.  It is generous of him to
fill in his story for her benefit.

"This sh'iril"--he taps at the platter with his spear--"was waiting
for me."  He crouches down, as if studying something a few meters
from him.  "She lay coiled, moving slowly, hissing."  He begins to
move his body in a slow circular pattern.  "I knew she was ready to
attack as soon as I stepped within striking distance."

Hehnak sits forward, his meat forgotten.  Christine reaches out and
pushes his plate back so he will not knock it over.  Khorta grins at
her.

"I knew that I could kill her from where I stood.  But it seemed
unsporting."  Gramton stands suddenly, then stomps twice.  "I sent
her the message, through the ground.  'I am not afraid of you,' I
sent to her.  'I will kill you.'"

Christine realizes she too is leaning forward.  She smiles.

Gramton advances toward his son.  "I moved slowly.  Deliberately.
She hissed and began to circle more quickly.  Oh, she was angry,
this ladysnake was."  He grins at his wife.  "She did not like my
message.  She did not think I would kill her after all."

He jumps at Hehnak, who leaps out of his seat, crying out with a
loud war cry.  "Yes, just like that, she leapt at me and just as you
did, my son, I met her, my spear catching her in the throat and
stopping her before she could get to me."    He laughs, and Hehnak
roars in triumph.

Khorta laughs too, looking over at Christine who is grinning madly.

Gramton leans down to his son.  "I cut her head off and left it
there as a warning to the other sh'irils.  Beware the House of
Gramton.  We are your blood enemies."

Hehnak grins ferociously.  "Beware us!"

"Yes!"  Gramton gestures to the wall, where several snakes hang,
stuffed.  "Those were my first sh'iril kills.  Now, I do not save
them.  Now, I have the luxury of eating them."

She smiles.  "I am glad.  It's delicious.  Made more so by the
bravery of he who killed it."

It is apparently a very good thing to say.  Gramton looks suddenly
very touched.  "You do me honor, Christine."   He looks over at the
servants.  "Well, what are you waiting for?  There are empty
plates.  Eat, it is no good when it is cold."  Gramton is in a mood
to be generous.

Christine goes back to eating.  A rush of happiness fills her.

Life is so strange.



End part 4 of 6




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