Chapter Text
The feverish activity started again. A complete series of neurological tests were performed. Each piece of data was checked and rechecked. As the results showed no change, McCoy's skepticism increased. Finally, in desperation, Christine called to Spock but this time there was no answer. The medical staff finalized their reports and drifted out of Sickbay until only McCoy and Chapel were left. Christine read the final report, then slammed it down on the desk in frustration.
"He is in there. I know it!'
McCoy watched her with sympathy, wanting to ease her torment. "Christine, sometimes when we love someone, love them a lot, we have a tendency to lie to ourselves. We want our loved ones to be safe, to be happy, and when this doesn't happen, we ... well, fantasize the desired condition. You wanted Spock to respond so much, that when air came out of his lungs in an unusual manner, to you it became an attempt on his part to communicate with you. But it didn't happen."
Christine turned away from him, but he grasped both her arms, forcing her to face him. "Christine, you just have to accept it. Spock is as good as dead. I don't like it; none of us likes it, but we have accepted and you will have to, too."
"No, Doctor." Her voice was firm. "I don't have to believe it and I won't. Spock is in there somewhere. I don't know how to get him out or why he doesn't just bring himself out, but I won't give up. If it takes forever, I will help him release himself. Can you imagine the kind of hell he must be going through? The part of him that is his essence trapped in a body that won't respond. But I know he can come back and I won't quit until I find him a path out. Now, if you will excuse me, I have to finish packing."
She marched out of Sickbay. McCoy stared after her, then dropped into his chair and sank his face into his hands. "Oh, God, if there was ever faith healing, now is the time. But You will have to use her faith. I'm all out."
Star Base Four was basically a research center. Scientists from all over the Federation were gathered in a gigantic complex geared solely to studies of all kinds. Since the main financing for the base came from Star Fleet, it was also the main hospital for critically injured Star Fleet personnel. One area of the hospital was totally committed to brain injuries and it was here that Spock was assigned.
Because Christine was already acquainted with the case, the medical staff was willing to assign her as Spock's main nurse. She settled him in a three room suite that contained all the latest in medical equipment. The patient room was a light green, windowless cubicle with artificial environment controls that would adjust the room to any species in it. Christine supervised Spock's transfer to the bed and turning the temperature up to 100 degrees F., left him to rest. The second room was a day room where the mobile patient could receive therapy and have a change of view. The last room was Christine's quarters, complete with monitoring equipment.
Christine unpacked, then activating the computer console, made a complete list of all the personnel on Star Base Four who might be able to help Spock. She was relieved to find there were several Vulcan healers listed though they were all medical. She reviewed the testing schedule and after checking the monitoring devices on Spock, went to bed. She'd have to be at peak level for the long haul ahead.
The next few weeks were a great deal like the past weeks on the Enterprise. She still had the physical care of Spock plus escorting him to the various testing centers. She was careful not to overtax herself, willing to delegate some of the tasks to other nurses so she wouldn't tire. On rare occasions, she would force herself to leave him to take long walks in the fresh air or work out in the base gym. But still she spent the majority of her time with him.
Because of the expanded facilities, the tests were more extensive. But the answers were the same. Even the Vulcan healers could offer no hope. Sareth, the most experienced of the healers, had attempted a mind-link. When he withdrew shaken, he explained, "There is extensive damage to the psi-centers. I find absolutely no contact such as you describe in your report. Though there were signs of the most primitive mental processes, there is no sign of cognitive brain activity."
"Doctor, I know he is still mentally alive," Christine insisted.
"What is your evidence?"
Christine was at a loss for words. What could she tell a Vulcan? That she had a "feeling" or that it was "woman's intuition?" She had to have stronger evidence than that. When she did not answer him, Sareth continued. "Unless you can give me solid evidence, I will recommend that Spook be granted euthanasia." Then he left her.
Christine stood beside the bed, looking over Spook. "They don't believe me, Spock. I can't get them to listen to me." Her voice fell silent as she reached her lowest ebb. Time passed as she stood beside him, trying to figure some way she could get someone to believe her. Finally, she placed her hands on the pillow on either side of his head and spoke slowly and distinctly. "We are going to work, Spock. We are going to work as we never have before. You will be getting every kind of therapy that has ever been used on brain-damaged patients. There will be no quitting, not even relaxation. You will work from your side and I will work from mine. You will trust me as I trust you. I will accept nothing less. On that you can be sure." Then she left him to begin her research.
She solved her first problem when she got permission to work with Spock. That consent was given mostly because she badgered the head of the hospital until he agreed for the sake of a little peace. He did restrict her time, limiting her to two months. Each day, Christine would put Spock's body through a rigorous set of exercises. She dredged up every form of stimuli she could find in the medical histories. Drugs, light, electrical shocks, all under meticulous supervision of a doctor.
Christine dropped her earlier resolve about limiting her time with Spock. Her sleep lasted only until the nightmares forced her from her bed and back to work. Her face became pale and drawn; her eyes were haunted. Tension and lack of meals caused her flesh to melt off her. Those around her tried to make her slow down, but she was driven by a ticking clock. There were times when she was sure she was getting a response -- the twitch of an eyelid, the faint movement of a limb -- but the doctors called it nothing more than involuntary muscle spasms. However, they spurred her on to greater effort. Her time limit was rapidly approaching.
A week before her deadline, she was taking one of her rare walks through the arcades of the base. A headline on a street corner news service screen cut through her mental fog and she dashed over to read the accompanying story. It announced the arrival of T'Lara, Vulcan's most gifted psi-healer. She was to hold a series of seminars on psi-healing for telepaths. Christine held her breath, rapidly thinking. Somehow, she had to convince T'Lara to aid Spook. Without allowing herself time for second thoughts or doubts, she set out for the visitors' quarters.
Even when she was directly in front of T'Lara's door, she had no idea what arguments she would use to convince T'Lara. The Vulcan healer answered her ring. She was shorter than Christine. But with a stronger appearance. Like most Vulcans, her age was not apparent, but Christine guessed she was somewhere near the end of her middle ages.
"You are Nurse Chapel," T'Lara stated. "You have come about Spock. Sarek has already approached me concerning his son." She led Christine into the spartan living quarters. The desk in the corner had reports stacked on it and T'Lara picked up one, holding it loosely in her hand. "I have studied the reports, especially Sareth's. Why do you think Sareth is in error?"
Christine stifled a shuddering sigh and looked down at her hands. She spoke carefully. This was Spock's last chance. "First, though Sareth is a very competent healer, he does not have your skill or experience. The full possibilities of the Klingon mind-sifter on a telepath are largely unknown. Spock is the only telepath to have experienced it and though we know how he responded the first time, we don't know what the greater power did to him. That very lack of knowledge demands that Spock get care from the best possible expert. That expert is you."
"And your second reason?"
Christine looked her squarely in the eye. "I have been a nurse for over 15 years. I have had all kinds of patients, even in the psychiatric field. I have a ... hunch about this patient. No, hunches aren't logical. Most of the time they are just wishful thinking, but every now and then, the hunch works out. That is all Spock has left. I know you won't accept my feelings about this, but on the basis of my first reason. I don't see that you have any choice but to try."
T'Lara remained silent, weighing her words. Christine stayed perfectly motionless, though her skin crawled at the delay. Finally, T'Lara nodded her consent. "I will examine Spock. I agree with your first fact, although--" She had a faint smile on her face that had its own brand of charm. "--I will be interested to see how accurate your 'hunch' is."
T'Lara's face became remote. "You are aware that in the case of total brain disability, Vulcan will grant euthanasia?"
Christine didn't flinch, though a great pain ripped through her breast, but answered steadily, "If Spock is gone, then he would prefer death with dignity to existence without living. I would accept Vulcan's decision."
T'Lara nodded her approval. "It is well. Take me to Spock."
The two women hurried through the crowded pedestrian walkways. T'Lara, though walking quickly, seemed placid while Christine seethed with impatience. They entered Spock's room and Christine dismissed the relief nurse. T'Lara stood by the bed, her fingers steepled in meditation.
"Reduce the lighting. You will stay with us but keep silent. No matter what occurs, do not interfere unless I call your name."
Christine signified her understanding. She drew back as T'Lara became intent, focusing her concentration to a fine point. In the half-light, she appeared like an image of ancient knowledge. She carefully placed her fingertips around Spock's skull.
"Our minds are one. Your thoughts are moving to mine. We share this time. We work together."
Her voice died away and her eyes closed. Her face became taunt with strain; moisture beaded up on her brow. An eternity passed as Christine waited, watching anxiously. Suddenly, T'Lara stiffened as if electrified. Spock's eyelids flew open and they locked eyes. Christine bit her lip to prevent an outcry. Spock attempted to lift his hands to T'Lara's head but his muscles refused to respond. For a few brief minutes, they stared into each other's eyes. Then, Spock closed his eyes and for the first time in months, slept normally. T'Lara began to sag and Christine caught her, guiding her to a chair.
"Can I bring you something?"
T'Lara shook her head; she looked tired and badly aged. "I need only rest. It was more difficult than I anticipated." She laid her head on the back of the chair. "Your 'hunch' was accurate. I do not know if I can explain this correctly in a manner you can understand." She paused, then continued, "When the mind-sifter was engaged, Spock attempted to retreat from it. As he withdrew into the recesses of his mind, the machine seared the neural endings and he could not return."
She rose slowly to her feet, preparing to leave. As they crossed the day-room, T'Lara stated flatly, "Spock owes his life to you, Nurse Chapel."
Christine replied stiffly, "He owes me nothing. He is my patient. I did what was required. Is he healed?"
"No, we have merely made a beginning. I will have him transferred to Vulcan for full treatment. We will leave at the end of my seminars. Will you come with us?"
"No. My job is done. Now that Spock is under proper care, I can resume my duties. As soon as arrangements can be made for Spock's transfer, I will return to the Enterprise."
T'Lara's eyes were enigmatic as she examined the Human woman. She bowed her head wearily. "As you wish. Live long and prosper." Saluting Christine, T'Lara returned to her quarters.
Christine returned to Spock's room. She noted with satisfaction that his color had improved slightly. Her eyes roamed over his form, all the curves and angles so well-loved. Her throat tightened as a huge fist closed on her heart. The tears welled in her eyes.
"Oh, Spock," she whispered. "This time has been the best ... and the worst of my life. I love you so."
She bent, lightly brushing her lips across his sunken cheek. Then she hurried to her quarters, seeking the privacy she needed to weep.
* * *
EPILOGUE:
In the six months since her return to the Enterprise, Christine had immersed herself in her work. She was recording lab results when she heard the doors open. As no one spoke, she turned around. Spock stood just inside the door. She was delighted to see him looking so well, though thinner. He remained silent beneath her scrutiny, waiting for her to set the pace.
"Welcome back, Mr. Spock. We are ready for your check-in physical. Please report to Nurse Mendez for your lab work."
He hesitated a moment. "Thank you, Miss Chapel." Then he strode into the lab. Christine drew a long breath and returned to her work.
THE END