Chapter Text
“Oh you have got to be kidding me,” Christine muttered under her breath. Then winced as she saw Spock’s shoulders stiffen. Vulcans were known for their advanced hearing, the pointy ears weren’t just cosmetic, and the shuttle bay was quiet over the general hum of the engines. He’d probably heard her. Yet, as he turned to face her, his face was perfectly calm and composed as she forced a smile onto her face and tried to pretend she was glad to see him. “Hey Spock. Here to see me off?”
“No. I am here to pilot the shuttle to your rendezvous at Starbase 80,” he said flatly, clasping his hands behind his back.
A prickle of panic ran up her spine. “Erica was supposed to fly me.” Shit, that sounded defensive. Not that Spock seemed to mind.
“Lt. Ortegas was assigned a pressing engagement. I have been designated as her alternate.” He stared at her, face as blank as a wall as she mentally cursed and tried not to let it show.
Dammit Erica. They’d just had breakfast together, a final hurrah with the rest of her friends on the ship before she’d left to finish a few odds and ends and throw the last of her things into her bag. Why hadn’t her pilot friend mentioned it then? If Erica had warned her she could have been prepared instead of… this.
Spock’s eyes went somehow colder as she continued to gaze at him without saying anything. Shoulders stiffening, he raised his chin a bit, staring down at her with steely eyes. “I am shuttle rated,” he reminded her cooly.
“I know you’re shuttle rated. Everyone has to be minimally system qualified, and I’ve flown with you before,” Christine muttered. Sighing deeply, reminding herself that the likelihood of Spock wanting to be there was probably just as high as her wanting him, she gripped her rucksack tighter and headed for the door. “Let’s go.”
She stored her bag, shoving it into one of the cubbies and scowling when it didn’t fit. Dammit. It was a ‘Fleet issued bag. There was no way she could have stuffed it so full it wouldn’t fit. Yet when she tried to shut the cubby door the damn thing just bounced open again, the end of the bag sticking out too much for it to latch properly. Giving the bag a hard shove she cursed under her breath as the door refused to shut.
“Allow me,” Spock said, suddenly behind her and reaching for the door.
She held up a hand, shaking her head. “No, I’ve got it,” she growled. Shoved harder until the entire bag was forced in as far as it would go and slammed the door shut with both hands. Mercifully, this time it latched and she turned to see Spock still staring down at her with those alien unreadable eyes. “See? I’ve got it. I’m not completely useless.”
He didn’t say a word. Just gazed at her for a moment before silently walking away into the cabin. She watched him go. Originally, Christine’s plan had been to sit in the co-pilot’s seat so that she and Erica could talk the entire way to the Starbase. It was going to be a way for the two of them to catch up, a final time for a long involved chat since she’d probably be too busy to talk during her fellowship. A chance to get in some nice female bonding time culminating in a late dinner and drinks at the Starbase since Erica would have to spend the night before heading back to Enterprise in the morning.
Considering that Spock was here instead, that plan was void. To say that things had been chilly since that anomaly had made her sing all those horrible things was an understatement. Really, she was shocked he was there at all, she would have expected him to refuse to go and insist on sending someone else if Erica had gotten some assignment where she couldn’t take her anymore. Wondering who she should curse for this change of fate, Pike or Una, Christine sighed again and stared at the cabin door.
What would be worse? Sitting in the co-pilot seat in uncomfortable silence for ten hours but having a view of the stars passing by? Or sitting by her lonesome in the back where she could pretend she hadn’t broken Spock’s heart by destroying her own?
The back won. Strapping herself into one of the bench seats in the back, Christine tipped her head onto the bulkhead as the shuttle engines began to hum. Wishing a silent goodbye to the Enterprise, annoyed with herself that she wasn’t going to be able to see the ship as she flew away, Christine closed her eyes and resigned herself to the shuttle ride from hell.
How little she knew how true that would be.
~xOx~
Could nothing go how she wanted it? Fingers scrabbling at the cubby latch, Christine cursed as the door refused to open. First the damn thing wouldn’t close, now she couldn’t get it open? How was that even fair?
Kicking the wall, glaring at the obviously substandard piece of Federation engineering, Christine sighed deeply. Her padd was in her bag. So was her comm unit. She hadn’t thought she’d need either of them when she’d thought Erica would be flying her so she’d thoughtfully tucked them away so they wouldn’t be a distraction when she was trying to be social with her friend.
But now, hour two into a ten hour shuttle flight, Christine was bored. So bored. She’d never been good at twiddling her fingers doing nothing, there was no entertainment to be found in the back of the shuttle, and now she couldn’t even get her padd or comm unit out to do work or send Erica passive-aggressive messages demanding to know why she’d let Spock take this assignment instead.
Goddammit.
She hated being idle.
Fingers twitching, wondering if she could find a screwdriver or spanner and start carving ideas for research into the flooring – or if that would automatically get her court-martialed for defacing Starfleet property – Christine considered her options. None were good.
At least one was not entirely terrible.
Going to the tiny kitchen unit, Christine ordered herself a coffee from the replicator. The ones on shuttles were really only good for drinks, but at least the liquid looked to be strong and someone had stocked real sugar packets in the drawer next to it. She added three before grabbing the cup and hesitating. Then ordered a tea. Mint. Spock’s favorite.
Taking a deep breath, cups in hand, she gingerly entered the cabin. “I brought you tea.”
“I do not require liquid refreshment.” The response was immediate and cold, Spock not even glancing away from control panel as he did whatever you had to do while at warp to not crash. Which, from watching Erica and her own limited experience, was not much. Erica mostly kicked her heels up and kept an eye out for warning lights but from the way Spock’s hands moved over the panel, adjusting and adjusting, you’d have thought they were flying on impulse though an atmosphere.
It was like a kick in the teeth. There’d been a time when Spock would have turned to her and thanked her, even if he hadn’t wanted the stupid tea, but she’d ruined that, of course. She should have known better to even try. Staring down at the cups in her hands she took a deep breath and turned back. “Right. I’ll toss this then.”
“No.” Spock’s voice stopped her dead and she glanced back to see that he’d stopped moving as well. Hands frozen on the control panel he seemed to be staring out into space, shoulders tight. “That… would be a waste.”
“It’s just replicator tea. It’s not like we have any of the good stuff onboard.”
“Still. It is not wise to waste resources.”
Deciding that she wasn’t going to point out that the replicator was just recycled atoms thrown together in new and exciting ways, she quietly stepped forward and put the cup into the built in holder by Spock’s chair. He didn’t look at her as she did it, his eyes focused on the control panel as she deposited the cup and hesitated again. Gingerly, moving slowly so that Spock could protest if he wanted, she settled into the co-pilot chair and turned her gaze out the viewscreen window.
There. She had awkward silence now, but at least she had a view.
Hands wrapped around her cup of coffee she absently blew on the still steaming liquid before taking a sip. A rush of stale bitterness and overtly sweet liquid hit her tongue and she smiled. Starfleet coffee really was terrible. She hoped the fellowship replicators were just as bad, she’d miss the coffee the most if they didn’t make the crappy stuff.
Spock sat still, not even appearing to breathe, for a long time. Then he reached out and carefully made an adjustment to the panel. Deciding that he was alright with ignoring her, Christine relaxed, keeping her eyes on the weird way the stars flew by at warp.
She wasn’t sure how long they sat like that, her sipping her coffee, him working, but eventually he reached down, taking the cup of tea and took a drink. “I thank you for the tea,” he muttered, sitting back in his seat.
“You’re welcome.”
Silence.
It went on for an age.
“I…” Spock started. He stopped just as quickly, hands on the ceramic mug tightening as he held it in both hands, his pose mirroring hers. Christine glanced over at him, confused. Usually Vulcans were masters of the awkward silence – they didn’t find them awkward at all – and she couldn’t think of any reason why Spock would want to actually want to talk to her. Maybe he was just being polite? Eyes locked on the viewscreen, Spock seemed to take a bracing breath. “Are you looking forward to your fellowship?” he asked at last.
Well that was a dumb question. Hadn’t she done a stupid song and dance number where she’d been forced to sing about how excited she’d been over the opportunity? Spock had been there. His clear disappointment in her excitement had been part of the reason why she’d responded in song. Why she’d sung that she was ready to leave him if he refused to support her prioritizing her career.
Why they’d broken up.
Wondering where he was going with this – hopefully not another fight – Christine kept her eyes carefully on the viewscreen and reminded herself that Spock was Vulcan. If he was asking he probably just wanted to know. “I’m very excited,” she said. And she was. Archeological medicine had always fascinated her and now she was going to be working with the top researcher in the field. Her brain practically buzzed at the thought of what she’d soon be doing and the things she was going to discover.
“You will be working with Doctor Korby.”
Was that a question or a statement? She glanced at him, frowning a little and sipped her coffee. “I am.”
Spock’s jaw worked, his eyes still on the viewscreen, but he seemed to be struggling. It wasn’t obvious, just a little twitch of his lips and ear, but she’d gotten to know him so well. Clearly being forced to be polite and make conversation with her was getting to him. She really needed to give up on the view and return to the back of the shuttle. Maybe she could force the cubby open and get her padd so she could work instead…
“I have read some of Doctor Korby’s work. He seems… intelligent,” Spock said, dragging the awkwardness on.
“Yeah, he’s the best in the field,” Christine agreed. “I’m going to be working with him in some ancient Orion ruins. They have a very ancient civilization, one that’s been in decline for some time. Doctor Korby believes that we might be able to find some breakthroughs that could help our current understanding of medicine if we’re able to excavate their ruins and see how they were treating patients at their peak.”
Spock nodded ever so slightly and took a sip of his tea. Eyes never wavering from the viewscreen he sat there and she quietly realized that their conversation was over. As awkward and stilted it had been, it still made her heart sink as she finished her own cup. There’d been a time where she and Spock could have talked for hours about archeological medicine or his research or anything at all really. Hours and hours that they’d sat together in the rec room over a game of chess, the game not mattering at all. They’d just used it as an excuse to be together to talk and share and just… connect.
Back when they were friends. Before she’d ruined everything. Before she’d made the mistake of trying to do a relationship when she knew how terrible she was at them. Back before she’d let her own anxieties take over and wrecked everything she’d held dear. Back before she'd known any of the things she knew now.
It was better this way though. Sure, it hurt now but if she’d let things drag out longer… It was still better.
Finishing her coffee she sighed, yet again, and stood. “I’ll leave you to it,” she whispered, heading back towards the shuttle’s rear.
“Christine-!” Spock’s voice was strangely sharp and she turned back to look at him. He’d turned in his seat, leaning forward a bit as if he was about to jump out of his chair, but his face was as perfect and still as porcelain as he gazed at her with those dark eyes. Settling back in his chair he stared at her for a moment before his eyes darted away. “I… I thank you for the tea.”
A bitter smile crossed her lips. “You already said that,” she said. Silently shaking her head at the strangeness of Vulcans she went to the back, letting the door swish shut behind her. Tossing her cup into the recycler she looked around the enclosed space and her eyes narrowed.
Now, if she was a screwdriver where would she be?
She needed to get her padd. There was no way she was going back to the cabin to bother Spock, no matter how bored she got.
It was clear he didn't want her there anyway.