Date: 6 Oct 1999 02:47:03 -0400



Author: Laura JV (laurav@stones.com)

Title: Small Comforts

Archive: ASC/EM

Rating: G

Parts: 1/1

Codes: Spock/T'Pring

Category: Challenge

Warnings: I don't use warnings.

Summary: T'Pring is on board the Enterprise, and she has some problems

to work through.

Series: TOS

Disclaimer: Paramount/Viacom owns Star Trek; I own this story but make

no profit from it.



Notes: Part of the "Tears in Rain" series, available at my website:

http://www.andrew.cmu.edu/~jacquez/writing/fanfic.html



----------



The Enterprise was nothing like I expected.  I came on board to see

he-who-is-my-husband, and to apologize--if it is possible to

apologize--to his captain.  This was a human thing, Spock had assured

me, when I asked if I should ritually submit to Captain Kirk.



Spock knew that I could not have borne the ritual submission.  And he

knew that his captain would not have understood.  So I followed the

instructions he gave me: I pulled the Captain aside, and I looked up at

him and touched his arm and apologized.  "Captain Kirk, I know that I

cannot explain what I did.  It was unfair of me to involve you.  I must

beg you not to hold my actions against my husband."



He frowned down at me, his eyes hard, but his voice was calm and even

when he spoke.  "You have my word on it."



I nodded.  "Thank you, Captain.  That is all I want."



And Spock was right, of course.  It was the perfect thing to say.  The

Captain now saw me as a confused woman who loved her husband--he saw me

in a human way, not as...how did Amanda put it?  "Some cold alien

bitch."



He-who-is-my-husband knows his Captain well, and I am honored to be the

wife of such a man.



I wish that I could honor him with my body as I do with my mind.  He has 

not asked, because he knows what he-who-was-my-master did to me.  He

will never ask, not until the burning comes.



When he came in from his shift, I was sitting on his bed, my legs tucked 

under me.  "Spock?"



"My wife?"



"Spock, I--"



He smiled at me.  "My wife, I know.  You need to heal."



I ducked my head.  "You have always known me best."



He reached out and tweaked my nose, as he had so many times in the

past.  "Do you want something?"



I stretched one of my feet towards him, nudged his knee gently.  That

was physical contact I felt safe making, safe like the nose-tweaking was 

safe.  "Amanda says she used to make you hot chocolate when you visited

her family."



"Yes.  Do you want some?"



"I have never had hot chocolate, my husband."  I nudged his knee again.

"It is very cold on this ship of yours."



He turned to the small replicator in the corner, and asked it for two

mugs of hot chocolate.  He handed one of them to me, and sat next to me

on the bed.  I leaned against his shoulder, pressing into him--another

safe move, arm to arm, no threat.



Just the safety of my oldest friend, offering me the small comforts that 

were so much a part of him.  Of us.



I have my Spock.  I have my hot chocolate.  Life...life is good.



Or getting there.



--



The End