NU2U: "Blood Ties", 18a/26 (TOS/AU, S/Ch, Sa, Am, Vulcan OCs, K, Mc; h/c, anx [PG13])
Gamin
pregnant wife Christine back to Vulcan to be presented at a clan
gathering, where both run afoul of certain ultra-conservative members
of the clan. This part: T'Merit decides to let T'Syrith undergo an
experimental operation performed by McCoy in the hopes of reversing
her illness, which is getting worse. (Next part: the baby shower!)
Disclaimers: Part 1A.
******
On the morning of what he assumed would be his last day on Vulcan,
Spock awoke just before dawn. After permitting Christine's touch all
night, ostensibly because it allowed him to remain more fully aware of
her physical condition as he slept (a conveniently logical rationale
that had served him well so far in their marriage but would be
difficult to justify once Christine had recovered from childbirth),
his mind had been filled with her dreams and memories of the previous
day; he knew as he looked down at her that she was at peace, despite
still being in some pain, and she still lay against him as if she had
never moved all night.
Spock touched her face; it was warm, but not warm enough to be of
serious concern, and she appeared in all other respects to be
physically back to normal. "Christine," he said softly--but she was
too deeply asleep to respond, so Spock propped himself up on one
elbow, lifting himself a little above her as he tried to think of a
more effective way to wake her up. Then he came up with an idea which
he was sure would bring a response: he leaned down and kissed her.
It worked--but not exactly the way Spock had intended. It was unlike
the kisses they usually shared, longer and deeper, and it was this--as
he had expected-that finally woke her; he had not, however,
anticipated the look of fear that appeared on Christine's face as she
opened her eyes, vanishing as soon as they focused on Spock.
There was only puzzlement and concern in Spock's eyes as they met
hers. "What is it? Have I done something wrong?"
Christine tore her eyes away, embarrassed but knowing she could not
avoid the terrible memories aroused in her by that kiss. She drew
away and turned her back on him, not wanting him to see her face.
"Please don't do that, Spock."
This only confused Spock more. "You do *not* wish me to kiss you...?"
"Not like *that*. Not yet," Christine pleaded, hating herself for
having to discourage him.
"Christine, explain. I am trying to be more expressive for *your*
benefit, not mine."
His imperative tone did nothing to encourage her. "Then don't
bother!" she snapped, in increasing pain. "Just leave me alone."
Spock realized immediately that he had used the wrong approach.
"Please tell me what troubles you about the kiss," he urged, more
softly. "I...am trying...to learn to do it correctly, but you must be
patient with me."
Christine turned to him finally with tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry.
I didn't mean to speak to you like that," she finally managed to say.
"I'm afraid to tell you, Spock. It could hurt you worse than it hurts
me."
"I am somewhat better able to bear pain than you are," he pointed out
gently. "Tell me. If I have done something wrong, I wish to rectify
it."
Christine nodded in resignation. "The last time you kissed me like
that...was the night of the blood-fever."
As she watched anxiously, Spock's face atypically drained of color and
he sat up abruptly, drawing further away from Christine as full
understanding filled him with shame. "I am sorry. I am sorry. I had
no idea." he whispered helplessly, not knowing how to make amends.
Christine sat up now and moved painfully across the bed after him,
determined to comfort him. "You couldn't have known," she reminded
him soothingly.
"Perhaps I *should* know everything that happened that night. I do not
wish to repeat such a mistake," Spock admitted, turning hesitantly
around to face her. "Could you tell me?"
"I could, but I won't-not now. You've been through enough," Christine
told him decidedly, recovering quickly as she became more and more
concerned about Spock.
"As have you," Spock returned, as their eyes met again. "But you
*will* tell me...before I do this again?"
"I promise."
Spock looked at her searchingly, feeling within himself a longing to
again experience her closeness and her touch--but just now, such
desires seemed more than illogical. They seemed scandalous and as
much a violation of her as anything he might have done during plak
tow. "Christine, please...you must believe that I did not mean to do
anything to remind you of that time. I do not wish to cause you
pain. Please forgive me," he entreated.
Christine held her arms out to him; Spock at first touched only her
hands, uncertain of what emotions he could expect to feel spilling out
of her, instinctively reinforcing his mental shields--but he felt only
concern and her desire to comfort him. Slowly, he moved back
toward her, allowing her to slip her arms around him and allowing
himself to enjoy her touch. "It's all right, Spock. You didn't do it
on purpose. All that matters is that we love each other," she
consoled him gently.
"But I do not know how to express such emotions correctly. I...
only meant to awaken you. I thought you would be pleased." Spock's
voice sounded despondent, almost mournful.
"I know. I understand that now," she assured him.
"Are you all right?" he asked, his voice still betraying his anxiety.
"Yes...but I'd like you to hold me."
Spock, who had not so far responded to her embrace, moved his arms
around her awkwardly but tenderly, marveling that she already found
his touch pleasant again and silently reveling in the warmth and
gentleness of her touch.
"Why did you wake me up so early?" she asked, at length.
"I...wanted to show you something that you would not be able to see
later," Spock explained, hoping now that it would benefit both of
them. "It will only take a few minutes, then you can go back to
sleep, if you wish."
"What is it?" Christine asked warily.
Spock released her, got up from the bed and went to get her robe,
bringing it to her before heading back to the terrace door. "You will
need that. It is cool outside now," he told her, grabbing his own
robe as he opened the door and quickly pulling it on.
"Outside? Why are we going outside?" Christine pressed, hurriedly
putting on the robe.
"You will see," Spock replied cryptically, returning to her side and
again picking her up carefully in his arms. Then he carried her out
onto the terrace and went to the railing, simply standing with her
cradled in his arms as they looked out over the still-darkened
garden. Above, the last purple traces of Vulcan's night were
beginning to yield to the magenta and orange of the breaking day.
"Look at the sky, Christine," Spock directed softly. "I wanted you to
see at least one Vulcan dawn before we left. I wanted you to see all
of it...the sky changing colors, the sun breaking over the garden
wall, and the morning flight of the silver birds. It is said--and
I have found the saying to be true--that watching them brings one
inner peace and healing. Let us watch the silver birds, and think no
more of the pon farr or T'Pera or those who do not accept us."
Christine watched obediently as Spock held her, at first remaining
silent as she watched the colors gradually brighten and change in the
sky overhead. "It's beautiful," she told him feelingly, at length.
"And so different from dawn on Earth."
"Wait and watch, and it will become even more beautiful," Spock
returned, in a hush voice. "Christine, it was so close...I came so
close to losing you forever."
//And Dr. McCoy thought you didn't know,// Christine noted to
herself. "Shh," she said soothingly, hugging Spock more tightly.
"No thoughts of T'Pera, remember? That includes thoughts of what she
did to me. It's all over with. "I'm all right, and so are the
babies; think of *that*."
"Yes." At that moment, the first rays of sunshine broke over the far
garden wall and an orange glow spread across the sky as the purple-
magenta colors began to recede.
"Oh, Spock..."
The wonder in Christine's voice was just the sort of reaction that
Spock had hoped for and made the experience all the more enjoyable for
him. Then he saw them high above and coming from the direction of the
desert, visible at first only as glittering, silver shapes against the
magenta-reddish part of the sky. "There they are. Look!" he cried,
unaware he was raising his voice.
Christine followed his gaze to where the silver birds were now chasing
each other down from the heights and quickly coming into full view.
They began to dance in the sunlight, darting and swooping in complex
shapes and patterns, occasionally spiraling down or across the sky,
with light playing off their streamer-like tails as they trailed
behind them. "It's breathtaking," she whispered finally. "What are
they doing?"
"No one quite knows. They are difficult to study; they nest in the
peaks of our desert mountains and seldom fly near populated areas, nor
are they fond of being studied at close-range, in their natural
habitat. Most of us assume it is some sort of mating ritual, but it
appears constant, not cyclic," Spock recalled, aware somewhere within
himself that his factual knowledge of the phenomenon was all he had
permitted himself to think of in
response for so many years of such sunrises and silver bird flights.
Oddly, it was only in retrospect that he had been able to gain full
appreciation of such sights, because not until he began to understand
that his emotions weren't evil by nature had Spock begun to allow his
appreciation of beauty to develop fully--unfettered by any fears of
being influenced by emotion. And that had not really happened until
after Jim Kirk became his friend.
They watched the silver birds until they finally passed out of sight
some fifteen minutes or so later. "Thank you for sharing this with
me, Spock," Christine said sincerely, at last.
"You are quite welcome. Do you wish to return to bed now?"
"I guess I'd better. I'm not used to getting up this early since
being
here."
Spock carried her back into the guest room, placed her on the bed,
then went back to close the terrace door. He took off his robe and
went to join Christine, who had likewise taken off hers, in bed. He
stayed awake while she slept, not holder her this time, but simply
watching her for the pure, illogical joy of being able to watch her,
taking her hand as it lay on her pillow. It was not until some time
later that the air temperature in the room began to bother him again
and he moved cautiously closer to her, placing an arm across her; even
in her sleep, Christine seemed to perceive his need for the warmth of
her touch and snuggled back against him in response.
Spock estimated that perhaps two hours passed as he lay in bed with
her, concentrating on the mental impressions he received through her
touch and the awareness it gave him of her physical condition.
McCoy's blood tests on her had proven conclusively that there was no
more moralyn in her system, but she was still suffering
the after-effects of a difficult childbirth and Spock remained
concerned for her well-being.
Then, just as she was beginning to wake up, there came an urgent
knocking at the door. "Come," Spock responded hesitantly, as
Christine made herself sit up and they arranged the covers over
themselves.
The door opened and T'Merit entered, looking unusually pale, with a
haunted expression in her dark eyes. "Forgive this intrusion, Spock,
but I must speak to Christine on a matter that will not wait," she
apologized, pulling the door closed behind her and approaching
Christine's side of the bed.
Christine watched T'Merit worriedly as the latter drew near her.
"T'Merit, what is it?" she asked.
"Before T'Pera's misdeeds and the birth of your children, you
described to me an experimental surgical procedure that might stop the
spread of T'Terat's Disease. I am ready to permit it to be tried on
T'Syrith," T'Merit told her, clearly fighting to keep her voice
steady.
"You're certain? You realize she could die," Christine reminded her,
startled by the apparent suddenness of her decision.
"That would still be better than this death by degrees which she now
endures," T'Merit persisted. Then she continued hesitantly, "She has
lost her voice, Christine. She awoke this morning unable to speak at
all. I left her with Captain Kirk. He seems fond of her, and.to
watch her continually *trying* to form words."
Christine looked at her with compassion. "Maybe you'd better sit
down," she suggested kindly.
T'Merit complied cautiously, sitting next to her on the bed.
"Does T'Syrith know anything about this?" Christine asked then.
T'Merit nodded. "When she found she could not speak, she asked me
mentally...to do something to help her," she revealed. "She said she
was not afraid to die, but she did not want to continue in this manner
until she could no longer even communicate mentally. I told her as
much as I believed she was capable of understanding about the
operation you have proposed. She knows the risks--that it may not
work and she could die. She understands--I think she is more
apprehensive about the prospect of leaving Vulcan to go to
the Enterprise than about the operation itself. She wants to
communicate with you first and then meet Dr. McCoy before she goes."
"I think that can be arranged," Christine asserted gently. "I'll talk
to
Dr. McCoy as soon as I get dressed."
Satisfied, T'Merit got up finally and left.
Spock, having thought it best to remain silent during their
conversation, spoke to Christine as soon as T'Merit was gone. "What
is this 'experimental surgical procedure' that T'Merit spoke of?"
"Something McCoy found when he was researching T'Terat's Disease for
me. It's been used successfully on Humans with the disease, but not
Vulcans. He agreed to perform it if T'Merit decided to try it," she
explained.
Spock raised an eyebrow at her. "That would constitute major
neurological surgery, and Vulcan brains are quite different from those
of Humans. I trust the Doctor knows what he is doing," he remarked,
getting up and going to get dressed-for the first time in a week,
putting on his uniform. He selected a clean dress from Christine's
travel bag and brought it to her as she took off her nightgown.
"He's seen the operation done," Christine informed him quietly,
quickly pulling the dress on over her underclothes and slipping into
her sandals.
Seeing her start to get up, Spock hurried to her side and picked her
up in his arms again. "No, my wife--you are not to do any walking
until McCoy says it is safe for you," he admonished softly.
Christine had by now learned not to object and simply accepted Spock's
determination to carry her until she was able to walk without pain as
another of the touching demonstrations of his protectiveness of her
which he had shown her more and more often as her pregnancy
progressed. She knew also that he now held himself responsible for
not being with her in the guest room when T'Pera entered so that he
could have kept his cousin from hurting her and was trying--perhaps
subconsciously--to make amends.
******
Spock carried her out to the parlor, pausing in the doorway as they
looked around to see who else was up and who had arrived so far.
Setek, Sarek, Storn and Savir were talking on one side of the room,
Seron and T'Lian were seated on the sofa talking with the rest of
T'Merit's family, and T'Merit herself was standing near one of the
windows. Beside her were Kirk, who was currently carrying T'Syrith in
one arm and with whom she appeared to be deep in conversation,
and McCoy, who appeared to be just listening. T'Shelya, T'Myryn,
Amanda and the rest of the children were nowhere in evidence; Spock
decided they must be busy putting the finishing touches on the
presents.
Spock noticed then that Christine's favorite chair was unoccupied and
carried her over to it. "I will see that T'Syrith is brought to you.
In the mean time, do not move from this chair," he told her, as he set
her down in the chair.
Christine watched him go back past the other end of the sofa and speak
briefly to T'Merit, then Kirk lowered T'Syrith to the floor. She took
her mother's hand with one hand and Spock's with the other, then
started off in Christine's direction with Kirk and McCoy following
along behind. Spock and T'Merit led the child straight to Christine,
and T'Syrith immediately started to climb onto her lap. Christine
helped her.
Before Christine could say anything to her, T'Syrith reached up to
touch her new cousin's face in as close to an approximation of mind-
meld position as her small hand could manage, and her mind spoke to
Christine's. //I cannot speak any more, Christine.//
//I know--your mother told me,// Christine's mind responded gently.
//Mother says you know of a way to stop it from getting worse,//
T'Syrith noted, reaching inquiringly but cautiously a little deeper
into Christine's mind.
//It could. But your mother also told you it might not work, didn't
she?//
//Yes.//
//What did you decide?//
Christine could feel T'Syrith's apprehension as her mind responded.
//I want to do it, but I have never been away from Vulcan before.//
//We won't go far. Just a little way up into space above Vulcan.//
Christine's mind tried to convey reassurance.
//You will come with me?//
//I promise, T'Syrith.//
//But not to do the operation?//
//No. My friend Dr. McCoy will do it--but I'll be nearby.//
T'Syrith's apprehension began to recede as a thread of startlement and
sudden interest penetrated it and presented itself to Christine. //
All right. If you will go with me, I will go,// T'Syrith decided, but
Christine sensed her remaining uncertainty about McCoy. //Does Dr.
McCoy consider himself your friend?//
//Of course; we've known each other for years,// Christine sought to
assure her.
//May I touch him?//
//I'm sure he wouldn't object.//
T'Syrith broke off the mental contact, and after Christine had
recovered, she spoke to McCoy. "Doctor--"
"T'Merit told me about her decision already," McCoy supplied
helpfully.
"I kind of thought she would. Come here, please."
McCoy was puzzled but moved obediently past Spock and T'Merit to stand
next to Christine.
"T'Syrith needs to touch you," she explained. "Can you get down on
your knees so she can reach your face?"
"Oh. Sure," McCoy muttered. "Let's see, it's been a while since I've
done anything like this." He did, however, manage--with some
difficulty--to lower himself into the requested position.
"All right, T'Syrith--go ahead," Christine urged gently.
T'Syrith reached timidly to touch McCoy's face. Her fingers curiously
explored the lines of his craggy features, completely traversing the
surface of his face before beginning to reach out tentatively to his
mind. As usual with first-time mental contacts, she only touched the
outer edges and most superficial levels of his consciousness, and the
first impressions she received were defined with unusual clarity:
first, that McCoy understood and was familiar with what she was doing--
and second, that he personally had experienced two true mind-melds in
his life (one by choice and one by force) and had no desire to repeat
the experience again. Her next impressions, however, were of other
emotions within him--his affection for his two friends Kirk and Spock
and the sincerity of his concern for her being the most currently
prominent. And she sensed instantly that McCoy was a man whom she
could trust.
T'Syrith gathered these impressions within the space of a few seconds,
then quickly withdrew from McCoy's mind, afraid of causing him any
further discomfort with her mental presence. When
McCoy had recovered, he asked, "Well, T'Syrith? Do I meet with your
approval?" His voice conveyed understanding of T'Syrith's need for
reassurance.
T'Syrith nodded slowly, and McCoy stood carefully.
He glanced over questioningly at T'Merit. "We should start getting
things ready right now if you want the surgery done before we leave."
T'Merit nodded understandingly. "Then please do so, Doctor. T'Syrith
and I are prepared, whatever the outcome."
"All right. I'll beam up and make the arrangements myself," McCoy
acceded, starting away from the group.
"I do have a question, before you go," T'Merit added hesitantly.
McCoy turned back to her. "Yes?"
"If the operation works, will you be able to restore her sight and
speech?"
McCoy sighed. "I wish I could say for sure one way or the other. A
lot is going to depend on how much diseased tissue can be removed
and whether or not the organs involved can be repaired; all I can
promise you right now is to do the best I can."
T'Merit's expression conveyed acceptance of this as McCoy turned and
retreated across the room to a spot where he would be in no danger of
having someone else accidentally beam up with him.
T'Syrith, meanwhile, reached up to touch Christine's face again,
reaching tentatively for another mind-touch and still exuding a
certain amount of puzzlement and hurt. //He did not accept my mind
very readily. I think he would have preferred to withdraw and push my
thoughts away. Will you tell him when he comes back that I am sorry,
and that if I had known of his objections before, I would not have
touched him?//
Christine opened her mind to the child again, taking in her cautious
mental presence and surrounding it with warmth and consolation.
//I'll tell him, T'Syrith, but I think that was more *my* fault than
yours. It never occurred to me that he would have any problems with
it. I *am* sure that you didn't do anything that would've hurt him;
there has to be some other explanation.//
She felt T'Syrith draw encouragement from this, and T'Syrith's mind
conveyed acceptance of both Christine's attempt to comfort her and
McCoy himself. //He is very emotional, is he not?//
//Oh, yes--that's why he's such a good doctor,// Christine's mind
assured her. //Patients aren't just numbers or statistics to him;
each one's fate means something. That's one of the first things he
taught me.//
Somewhere within T'Syrith was her awareness that this attitude was
surely illogical, at least by Vulcan standards, but at the moment, she
was convinced that that was unimportant. //He really *is* your
friend, then.//
//Friend, advisor, mentor and God knows what else.//
T'Syrith resisted with difficulty her temptation to touch and explore
the memory-images of McCoy that began to appear in Christine's
mind. //Then there can be little wrong in him. I am ready to let him
help me, Christine,// her mind asserted finally.
Fortunately, her mental touch was withdrawn before she could perceive
Christine's responding thought: //I hope he *can* help you.//
END PART 18A
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