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A F T E R T H E C R E D I T S : R E T U R N T O T O M O R R O W / Rating: PG-13
A/N: I tried to tackle some difficult concepts here. --ooOoo-- Kirk knelt over Spock's lifeless form. "Spock," Captain Kirk mourned. "My friend Spock. If there'd only been another way." The deep, disembodied voice of Sargon resonated over the bridge. "I could not allow your sacrifice of one so close to you," he intoned as Nurse Christine Chapel swayed on the bridge. Spock stirred and rose to his feet. "You're alive," accused Doctor McCoy. "There was enough poison in that hypo to kill 10 Vulcans." "No, Doctor," Sargon countered. "I allowed you to believe that so that Henoch would read your thoughts and believe it also." "It seems the injection was only enough to cause unconsciousness," Spock reported. "But Henoch believed and fled the body," Sargon stated. "He is destroyed."  "But your vessel was destroyed, too," Kirk observed. "Where was your consciousness kept?" Spock looked to Christine. "The place Henoch would least suspect, Captain," Spock replied. "That is why I was summoned to the sickbay," Christine accounted shyly. "Mr. Spock's consciousness was placed in me. We shared consciousness together." She turned a beatific smile on Spock. "It was beautiful." --- Spock touched the signal outside Christine's quarters again. The Vulcan knew she was inside. He could hear her muffled sobs. Spock projected warmth and consolation. /Let me in,/ he whispered softly in her mind. The door eventually slid open long enough for Spock to enter, but Christine was nowhere to be seen. He could hear water splashing in the lavatory and deduced that she was inside. Soon enough, Christine left the little washroom, drying her face and hands. The cool water she had splashed on her reddened face had only served to make it look blotchy. "I'm not up to visitors right now, Mister Spock," she mumbled tossing the towel onto the desk. Christine looked very fragile to Spock. He moved and spoke slowly so as not to distress her further. "I came to offer support, Miss Chapel," Spock said gently. "And I have an illogical need to apologize to you." Christine blinked at that. "Apologize?" Christine echoed. Spock nodded. "Yes," he replied, "to apologize that someone wearing my face used my body to assault you." Christine turned away from the Vulcan and picked up the towel again, twisting it in her hands. "Illogical," Christine sniffed. "Henoch was an evil, evil man. Being telepathic, he knew of my . . . feelings for you." Christine paused and cocked her head to the side. "What I don't understand is why didn't I remember it right off? Why did I have to find out only upon examination what he had done to my body?" She cast a suspicious glance at Spock. "You were in my head for over an hour. What did you do to my mind?" Christine demanded. "And don't hold anything back. I want to hear it all." Spock, chagrinned, dropped his gaze briefly. Mind melds done without the person's knowledge was a crime on Vulcan. Spock squared his shoulders bravely and looked the nurse straight in the eye. "I only became aware of the assault when Thalassa put my consciousness into yours," he reported. "At first, I threw up walls between our two minds to protect your privacy. But then I felt compelled to ease your anguish. I hid those memories deep within you to protect you. I should have realized that there might be physical evidence." "Might be?" Christine exploded. "The bastard tore me up." Spock's gaze dropped to the carpet again. "I am sorry, Christine," he replied quietly. "I know it was unpleasant." "Of course you know," she exploded. "You were messing in my head! How could you know otherwise?" Christine paced away, so angry that she spoke without thinking. "It seems that Henoch wasn't the only one that raped me today." Spock winced at her words and what she was implying. Christine did not miss Spock flinch and was puzzled by his response, but her anger prevented her from delving further. "I do know what you went through," he said in a small voice, shuddering. "I know the terrible invasion and the feeling of helplessness." Spock raised his closed eyes to the ceiling and wrapped his arms around himself. "Of course you know," Christine said venomously. "You were in my head." Spock shook his head vehemently. "You are not the only victim in this room, Christine," he rasped. Christine was confused. "Henoch hurt you?" she asked, puzzled. "How?" Spock began to tremble uncontrollably. "Not Henoch," Spock hissed, "Klingons." Christine crossed the small room, intending to throw protective arms around Spock, but she didn't know how he'd react to her touch. Her arms dropped back down to her sides. "What happened?" she asked gently. "It happened on Organia," Spock murmurred. "When you were interrogated by the Klingons," Christine supplied. Spock nodded. "They went up to level four on the Mind Sifter," he continued. "When the Klingons were unsuccessful in getting me to divulge any information other than what they already knew . . ." Spock's voice broke then. "they switched to more . . . p-primitive ways of interrogating. I was stunned, nearly in shock, when I was taken off the Mind Sifter. When I came to, I was face down on a table. I remember being penetrated by three attackers, but I do not know how many came before." Spock opened bleak eyes to Christine. "So you see, I know exactly what you experienced." Christine began to weep for Spock. "You must have been terribly torn up," she whispered through sympathetic tears, "but there is no record of it on your charts." Spock took a deep breath trying to calm himself. It didn't work. "I would not seek treatment in Sickbay," he said. "I asked Doctor McCoy to come to my cabin. He is the only other person on board that knows what happened." - Spock lingered behind on the transporter pads. He was nearly exhausted from controlling the pain and the horror that still threatened to overwhelm him. Spock was glad that he still wore the cape. He was sure that his leggings were stained as he felt himself start to bleed again. When he was sure that no one was looking, Spock eased himself carefully off the platform and down the two stairs. Something made McCoy pause at the door. He looked back in time to see Spock grimace as he descended the stairs. The doctor sped back to the Vulcan's side. Spock's mind was racing. He knew that he needed help. He also knew that McCoy would have to chart his findings on Spock's record. Spock knew that somehow Sarek had access to all of Spock's records at any given time. Sarek would know. He would find out what atrocities had been done to his son and Spock found that more difficult to bear somehow. "Spock!" McCoy whispered fiercely. "What's wrong? You look like you're about to faint!" The doctor grabbed his arms, but Spock yanked himself free. "No!" he breathed. "Spock," McCoy begged, "I see that you're in pain. Let me treat you. Can you walk to sickbay, or should I call for a gurney?" Spock shook his head. "No," he answered. "No, I can walk, but I am not going to Sickbay." He raised pleading eyes to McCoy. "Can you come to my cabin?" he asked in a small voice. "Can you bring a surgical kit?" "Spock, what happened?" McCoy asked. "Either you tell me or I'll have Jim tell me." "Jim doesn’t know," Spock replied, miserable. McCoy had several responses vie for attention in his brain, but the raw hurt and need in Spock's eyes made him acquiesce. He nodded. "All right, Spock," he replied. "I'll be down shortly. I'll tell Jim I did a quick once over on you and sent you to bed. He already told me that you were tortured, so he should believe that." "You do not know the half of it, Doctor," Spock responded.
Spock walked carefully to his cabin. He stripped the soiled native clothing off and tossed it all in the cycler. Wrapping a Vulcan robe about his shoulders, Spock eased himself onto the bunk, turned on his side and waited for the doctor. - "He treated you there?" Christine questioned. "Without recording the diagnosis, the treatment? That's unethical and against the law." "He told me as much," Spock snapped, "but I insisted. I needed a friend more than I needed a doctor. I had to keep the news of my attack from getting out." Christine was puzzled. "But why?" she asked. Spock made an impatient gesture as if to say, "Isn't it obvious?" "My father's security clearance is high enough that he has access to our ship's logs," Spock explained. "I did not want him to know about this, not him, and especially not Mother." - McCoy helped Spock out of the sonic shower and back to the Vulcan's bed. He had done a cursory examination when he first arrived in Spock's cabin and told him that the first step of his treatment would be to remove as much of the filth as possible. The doctor further cleansed the injured area with a foaming antibiotic liquid. Spock began to relax after the initial shock of the cool liquid on his tender skin. The numbing agent in the lotion also eased the pain, which helped immensely. McCoy helped Spock into a position more conducive for treatment before slapping a small device on the Vulcan's lower back. "Now, Spock," McCoy began, "this is a spinal block. You won't feel anything I'm doing. Think of it as anesthesia without drugs and all those nasty side effects." "Understood." McCoy was gentle yet thorough in his ministrations. He pressed a cylinder of antibiotic into Spock's rump. /Those Klingons must be walking incubators of disease,/ McCoy observed as he continued to work. /There are at least three different kinds of STD germs here. I'll have to keep a close eye on Spock in the coming days./ McCoy found it clumsy to work in this manner. He could not adjust the bed to a more comfortable height for himself. He had no one to hand him instruments or to hold tissues in place while they were fused back together. If McCoy didn't do this right, Spock would have trouble down the road. The procedure took twice as long as the doctor had hoped. Spock was a real trooper. He held himself in that awkward position without moving for the entire procedure. "Damn Klingon brutes!" McCoy muttered as he sealed the last of the injuries. He covered Spock with the surgical drape, removed the spinal block device, and helped him into a more comfortable position on the bed. "Now, Spock," the doctor said gently, "I'm going to give you more antibiotics. I cleaned you up as best I could, but I'm sure that some of the bacteria got away from us. The antibiotics will protect you. "I don't want you going into the healing trance right away, if you can help it," McCoy continued. "Your first priority should be sleep. You can do your healing mumbo-jumbo in the morning. "One more thing," the doctor said as he cleaned up from the surgery, "get used to having me around for the next few days. I have to keep close tabs on your temperature, make sure you have no infection." Spock nodded sleepily through McCoy's speech. The Vulcan then realized that the good doctor had slipped him a soporific . . . - "How did Doctor McCoy cover the use of medical equipment, the loss of medical supplies?" Christine continued. Spock's voice dropped further. "I had to put a reprimand in his file for misplacing a surgical field kit," he said softly. Christine was incensed. "A reprimand!" she roared. "Whose boneheaded idea was that?" Spock looked miserable. "His." Christine's anger deflated quickly. That sounded so typical for the Leonard McCoy she knew. Christine sighed. "So, Doctor McCoy performed surgery in your cabin," she continued. Spock nodded. "I remember that you were on personal leave for three days after we left Organia." Again Spock nodded. "I was in a healing trance the first day," he explained. "McCoy counseled me on the second day, and I meditated on the third. There were no marks left on my body. McCoy did an excellent job in . . . repairing me." --- McCoy found that he couldn't slap Spock hard enough to bring him out of the healing trance. He resorted to a less violent, yet more painful, way of bringing the Vulcan around. The doctor pressed a knuckle as hard as he could against Spock's sternum. Spock came to with a start, slapping the offending hand away from his chest. McCoy followed up by rubbing a bit of the numbing agent over the bruise that was forming on the Vulcan. "How are you feeling?" McCoy asked as he ran his scanner over Spock. "I do not know yet," Spock replied as he rubbed his face. "Well, turn over and I'll tell you how you are," McCoy said as he snapped on some protective gloves. Spock withdrew, suddenly shy. Red flags went up in McCoy's mind. "Spock," McCoy said gently, "I'm not going to molest you. I just want to check that you healed properly." Spock only closed his eyes. "Spock," McCoy prompted further, "you trusted me two days ago." "I had no choice two days ago," Spock whispered miserably. "I'm afraid you don't have any choice today either," McCoy replied quietly. "I know you just spent twenty hours in a healing trance, but I have to double check my work." The doctor studied the Vulcan. McCoy could see that Spock was waging an inner struggle. "What all did they do to you, Spock?" he asked gently. Spock took his bed pillow and crushed it against his chest. "It was more what they said than did," he began. "What did they say?" McCoy said softly. "They said, 'You know you like it, Vulcan,'" Spock began, trembling. "'We see the looks you give your pretty friend. You want him to be doing this to you. Well, pretend that we are your human. You like this, Vulcan, you want it!'" McCoy sat back in shock. A lone tear tracked down his cheek. "Are they right?" he asked Spock. The Vulcan whipped wide eyes toward him in shock. "Of course not!" Spock hissed. McCoy wiped his cheek. "All right then," he replied, "we start there." "Start what?" Spock asked. "Your counseling," McCoy replied. "What is Jim to you?" Spock took a deep, shuddering breath. He could still feel the hiss of the Klingon's breath as he whispered how the Vulcan would never want a female again, that only a real man could satisfy him, someone like Barona/Kirk. Over and over again the whispers came with each new attacker. "Jim is my captain, my friend, my shield brother," Spock recited. "What kind of person comes to mind when you think of a mate?" McCoy continued. "Female," Spock said, thinking of T'Pring. "I have only . . . been . . . with females before this." "Have you ever been attracted to a male before?" the doctor persisted. "No," Spock replied, his voice not sounding very convincing to himself. McCoy did not miss the slight hesitation. "Spock," he began gently, "your attackers planted seeds of doubt in you. Only you know the true answers to these questions. Being a male attacked by other males does not make you gay. It's not a disease you 'catch.' Your gender identity and orientation was programmed at conception, and nothing can change that. "Spock," McCoy continued, "the Klingons tortured you. They used a machine and they used their bodies. They could just as easily have used a stick and a rock. This was just another kind of beating, nothing more. It doesn't change the essence of who you are." McCoy stopped there. Spock's eyes were huge as he stared at the doctor, absorbing all he said. McCoy had never seen Spock look so vulnerable before. "Now," the doctor said, "I am asking you as your doctor and your friend. Will you let me see to your wounds? Then I'll get us some breakfast." Spock blinked finally, then reclined again on the bed. "You may examine me, but I am not hungry," he replied. --- "I had brought it to Doctor McCoy's attention that you weren't eating in the days after Organia," Christine mused. "He said he knew about it, that you were in meditation trying to recover from the trauma of the Mind Sifter." Spock looked at Christine in surprise. "So the doctor 'covered' for me further," Spock observed. "Leonard McCoy is a good man," Christine averred. "Indeed he is," Spock agreed. "I was very reluctant to file that reprimand." "I'm sure his pay was docked for the lost equipment," Christine stated. "I returned those funds and more to his account." Spock grew silent. "Mister Spock," Christine broached, "your . . . assault was two years ago, yet you are still plagued by it." "Your . . . rape brought back an avalanche of memories," he admitted. Spock looked at the nurse intently. "Do you wish me to restore your memories?" Christine balked at the suggestion. "No," she breathed. "I couldn't do that, to me or to you." "I understand," Spock nodded. Christine raised her hands to Spock's shoulders. The Vulcan recoiled. Christine shied away. "I'm sorry, Mister Spock," she murmured. "I forgot that you don't like to be touched." "It's not that," Spock replied. "How can you stand to touch me, to even look at me after what Henoch did to you as he wore my face?" Christine smiled gently. "I don't blame you, " she said gently. "That would be as illogical as blaming the stick that you were beat with!" Spock raised a brow in surprise. "It seems, madam, that you have bested me in logic!" "Ooh!" Christine teased, clapping her hands. "High praise!" Spock raised his hands to Christine's shoulders and squeezed them ever so gently. "Let me know how I can help you, Christine," Spock said tenderly. "If you need anything from me, please ask, no matter what." Christine blinked back tears. She raised her hands to Spock's shoulders and squeezed them in return. Spock felt her desire both to hold him and to be held by him, so he indulged her. Spock gently gathered Christine into his arms and found that they were both trembling. "So, how good was Doctor McCoy for counseling?" Christine asked after a while. "I'm sure he'll order me in for a session or two." Spock didn't lift his head. "Remarkably helpful," Spock replied. "He was not annoying in the least." Christine couldn't help but giggle at that. Spock found the sound of her laughter to be healing. "What was the one thing in particular in your counseling that you found most helpful?" Christine asked. Spock paused, grateful that he was still holding the nurse in his arms, that she couldn't see his face. "'Rape doesn't define who you are,'" he quoted. "'Rape, while highly personal, is nothing more than another beating.'" Christine thought for a while. She pulled back and met Spock's eyes. "You've been beaten before," she observed. "Do you really believe that?" "Take the emotional aspects of rape away and you are left with a purely physical act," Spock explained. "So to answer your question, I would say yes, I do believe that." Christine cocked a skeptical brow at him, unconvinced by the forced assurance in his voice. "I am trying to believe that?" he attempted again. At her continued dubious gaze, Spock added, "I would like to believe that? I am working on believing that?" Christine chuckled again. "No one can say that you are not honest, Mister Spock!" At that moment, the nurse's comm unit sounded. "McCoy to Chapel." Christine moved to the desk and depressed a button. "Chapel here," she responded. "Everything's quiet down here, Chris," the doctor informed. "How's about a little chat?" Christine looked up to Spock. The Vulcan nodded encouragingly. "I'll be down in five, Doctor." There was silence on the other end. Spock raised an eyebrow in surprise. Leonard McCoy? Speechless?!  "Doctor McCoy?" Christine continued. "Is anything wrong?" "Nothing," he replied at last. "It's just that I was prepared for an argument." Christine looked back toward Spock. "Why should I argue?" she replied. "I have it on good authority that you are 'remarkably helpful' as a counselor and 'not annoying in the least.'" "Who told you that?" McCoy ranted. Spock gave Christine a warning look. Christine smiled and winked at Spock. "Oh, just a friend." FIN |
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