The Isle: A refuge for fan fiction: Crossovers

Dark Frontier
By JM Lane

Rating: T | Status: Completed | Genre: Sci-Fi | Series: None
Summary: Star Trek/Dark Shadows Crossover. Bringing together the two casts for a tale of
romance and intrigue.

Go to: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

VULCAN TERMS:

KRE’NATH – bastard, undesirable

IN’FAI – idiot, blockhead, etc.

Part 2

Spock actually did walk Christine to her room; she even allowed him to kiss her hands before he left her for the night—but she was presently unaware of the difficulty the Vulcan had had in leaving her, although his control was such that he gave no outward sign of said difficulty. Even at that, Christine would likely have scoffed had she been told of the feelings Spock was supposedly harboring for her…particularly since they only seemed to have developed since she had been seeing Barnabas—as far as she could tell, at any rate. (At least that was what she wanted him to think.)

It would take a lot more than a simple token gesture like kissing her hands for her to believe in his sincerity after all the years he had kept her at both a physical and emotional distance. Therefore, she could hardly be blamed for either her skepticism or her actions with Barnabas…i.e., having an affair with him right under the Vulcan’s nose. She would likely have to test him before she could be completely certain how he regarded her: and she knew just how to do it.

At 1200 the next day, both she and Leonard had looked in on Lani and checked her progress, to see that the transfusion was taking—and this time, it actually seemed to be working. Lani was sitting up in bed and had actually been able to take solid food for a change, which was when McCoy had decided to accompany Christine to lunch. They hadn’t done that for a long time, for obvious reasons, so it was high time they did it again. Besides, he was curious to learn about her relationship with Barnabas Collins anyway.

Up to this point Lani had claimed she was too nauseated to eat, so McCoy had put her on IV nutrients, but encouraged her to eat at the first opportunity once she felt up to it…and she seemed so much better today that she might actually eat an entire meal. Still, he was all too aware that people often showed signs of improvement shortly before death, so he put Dickerson on guard in her room, a crucifix around his neck to accompany his phaser, to be on the safe side, before daring to leave with Christine. Even then, the CMO admonished him to contact Jim and/or Spock if something happened and their services were needed because the senior officers would be able to page them in case of necessity.

As far as either McCoy or Christine (apparently) knew, the Captain and Spock planned to remain in their room to study the additional information she and Lt. Holloway had uncovered…and as far as that went, would be discussing it with her at length. But even though Spock was planning to go down to the Inn’s dining room, ostensibly to obtain something to eat about half an hour after the Medical Officers’ departure, in reality he intended to eavesdrop on the conversation between them and hopefully learn whether or not he still had a chance with Christine or if he had lost her to Barnabas Collins.

What Spock was unaware of was that Christine was setting up the whole thing to satisfy her own curiosity about how the Vulcan truly regarded her, intending to make sure she gave as many intimate details of her relationship with Barnabas as possible, even if she had to manufacture some.

Of course, when he actually did go, Spock expected Jim to ask him to bring back something for him since the Captain had awakened late and had therefore not eaten anything since dinner the previous evening. He was also supposed to bring back something for Lt. Holloway too, if she wanted anything. They would reimburse him as soon as possible for the cost of the food.

The Vulcan nodded in their direction with a half-smile after taking their orders, but knew that if he was to pull off his plan, he would have to have one of the wait staff deliver the food to them. That was the only way he would be able to eavesdrop on McCoy and Christine’s conversation long enough.

He knew what close friends they were, and although he felt guilty about invading both her (and possibly McCoy’s) privacy, it was unlikely that either would be willing to discuss what they had talked about with him…and Spock had a very un-Vulcan curiosity about the ACMO’s new romance with the charming yet very mysterious Mr. Barnabas Collins—and he was definitely very much interested in what the latter’s intentions might be regarding Christine.

Technically it was none of his business, since Christine was a grown woman and didn’t need to answer to anyone for his private conduct (especially not him), but it was his rapidly growing feelings for her which had prompted him to come up with this atypical plan. Still, despite how she might feel toward him because of it, Spock could not allow her to become one of Barnabas’ victims should the latter take it into his head to attack her—that is, if he actually proved to be what Spock now suspected that he was.

Of course, Spock had discussed it with Kirk, but although the Captain privately didn’t think it was a good idea, since it could backfire drastically if Christine found out that Spock had been spying on her, the Vulcan could not see any logical alternative…no other way to find out what he wanted to know. So Kirk warned the Vulcan to be careful and not let them know he was there if he could help it—and to get as close to them as possible. Spock assured his Human friend that he would do so, and told both Kirk and Lt. Holloway to expect their meals shortly after he made his departure.

Spock ordered the meals for Kirk and Lt. Holloway upon reaching the Inn’s dining room, paid for them, then tipped the Head Waiter to take the meals up before ordering his own and searching for both Christine and McCoy as well as a place to sit which was hopefully located within earshot but not sight of them. The last thing he needed was for one or both of them to come by and spot him, so he had to be careful. (What he didn’t know was that both had spotted him the moment he entered, but pretended not to notice his presence.)

To his surprise and pleasure—though he sternly schooled himself to conceal the latter—the Vulcan managed to find a spot fairly near to them on the starboard side of the room. There was an artificial oasis with seats and tables behind it, the oasis blocking the view of him and vice versa…but what mattered to Spock was being able to hear them—and that he could do just fine.

For a while, fifteen minutes or so, the Vulcan estimated, the two Doctors discussed medical matters (such as how Lani was doing). Spock occupied himself with his own meal during that time. Not long before he finished, he heard Christine say, “I imagine you’re most curious about my relationship with Barnabas Collins, aren’t you, Leonard?”

“Just a little,” McCoy returned dryly.

“Then I must have your word that you won’t discuss this with anyone, including me, if Spock is anywhere around--or even if you think he might be around. Not that I really think it would matter that much to him if he did know. For that matter, he might even thank Barnabas for occupying my time and consequently, getting me off his back.” Her voice lowered near the end, then she was silent for a time, presumably eating or drinking, if not both.

“Don’t worry, Chris, he won’t hear it from me.” McCoy winked at her. “Though I must say that I don’t like your denying me the opportunity to needle him with this,” the Doctor chuckled…then the CMO was also silent for a while before he finished speaking. “Now what’s been going on with you and Barnabas?”

At this point, Spock picked up his ears and listened intently. This was what he had been waiting to hear.

“Well, the night we first met, he asked me to dinner and a movie, as you know,” Christine said. “But what I didn’t tell you before was any details of the evening. While we were in the theater, Barnabas brushed some of my hair aside and leaned over to kiss my ear—then asked if he could kiss me.”

McCoy’s eyes widened and his brows lifted in surprise upon hearing this, though Spock didn’t see it. He heard only the silence after Christine finished speaking.

“I see. Go on,” the elder Doctor finally said, his tone unnaturally quiet.

“Not long after that, he did kiss me—then put his arms around me and held me tightly. It went on so long that I could imagine what Lani was thinking all this time…and incidentally, Barnabas is a very good kisser. Reminiscent of Spock when he kissed me on Platonius—but the kiss between Barnabas and myself was mutually desired. I truly doubt that Spock would have done such a thing in the same situation, even if Lani hadn’t been there.”

Christine took a breath after her lengthy explanation, then a swallow of her drink, pink lemonade “on the rocks”. Spock knew this because he had heard her order another, though he didn’t know exactly what kind of meal she had ordered.

“And then what?” McCoy prompted before taking a bite of his own food—Spock was certain he had ordered some kind of Southern dish (the Inn had a limited selection of Southern dishes)—then washed it down with his own favorite drink, a mint julep.

“He whispered that he wanted to…sleep with me and asked if it would be possible.” Her voice was soft, but the Vulcan’s keen ears caught every word—and one can guess how he reacted to that revelation, given his new-found feelings for Christine. This time Spock’s eyes widened and both of his upswept brows shot into his bangs…then he felt a sharp pain in the vicinity of his heart at the thought of Christine giving herself to another man—allowing him to kiss her, caress her, undress her…then physically join with her.

By the gods, no! Spock exclaimed to himself, scarcely able to bear thinking about it for longer than a few moments. At the same time, he knew he had no right to object or even try to stop her from doing so again if she so chose. If any more of the conversation held shocking news like this, Spock was uncertain whether or not he could handle listening for much longer. That one revelation was likely to keep him awake all night as it was!

“…he could wait,” she said.

The Vulcan cursed himself for having missed some of her conversation, but vowed to listen all the more carefully after this—for as long as he could.

“Yes? What did you say, Chris?” McCoy again prompted. “I’m afraid I didn’t catch all that.”

Spock silently blessed McCoy for this; now he would know what he had missed.

“Then Barnabas said he didn’t think he could wait and wanted to know when and where we could do it, even suggesting his cousin’s home. He said he has his own room there and that his cousin always respects his privacy, so we wouldn’t be disturbed.”

Christine again took a breath, then continued after another swallow of her drink. “I told him how tempting his offer was…than Lani broke the moment by saying it was time to go. When I thought of how we had been going at it, I couldn’t help blushing, you know?” she confessed, feeling her cheeks redden at the memory of the passionate interlude. “I swear, I hadn’t felt like that since the encounter on Platonius!” the female Doctor exclaimed.

“Just the same, I couldn’t help thinking of Spock and how much I wished to God it could have been him. Fat chance of that, though,” she finished morosely, bowing her head for so long that it took McCoy’s touch on her hand to bring it up again. Her eyes were full of pain and frustrated love. “Damn it, Leonard, why does Spock have to be so god awful stubborn? Why do I have to love him so much when there’s so little chance for me?”

“He’s a Vulcan, Chris,” McCoy returned. “They cornered the market on stubborn. As for the rest…” Again, the Doctor’s voice trailed off. “I’ve never been able to figure him out on that score any more than you have. I always figured that to reject true love when it’s offered is the height of illogic, particularly in light of the pon farr…but he’s done just that—and done it for years.” The CMO twisted his lips and shook his head in bewilderment, though only Christine saw it. “Well, to get back to the subject,” McCoy began again. “What happened when you did sleep with Barnabas? I’m assuming you decided to go for it.”

Spock steeled himself to hear another difficult revelation. Even as painful as it was, however, he knew he had to hear it in order to be able to formulate a plan to hopefully win Christine back.

“I got together with him the next night at his cousin’s home,” she explained. “His cousin, Quentin, was out for the evening, so we were alone. He told me a lot of his family background. Good thing I thought to take my tricorder; I got everything on tape. We listened to classical music after that. I was cuddled up next to him with my head on his shoulder and his arms around me. It felt very similar to how I think Spock’s arms probably would…that is, if I could ever get him to notice me.”

Spock winced again upon hearing this. If only she could know his true feelings right now; if only he had the strength to tell her! He cursed his cowardice which kept them apart and had ultimately led to her affair with Barnabas Collins.

“After a while, he pulled me close so that our lips were just barely apart, then asked to—make love to me. And…I said yes.”

These last words stabbed into Spock more painfully than any knife. He had to do something drastic, and soon, or else he would lose Christine for sure! But what?

“Well, how did it turn out?” McCoy wondered. “Was he all you expected?”

“Much more,” she sighed. “I’ve never felt more satisfied or fulfilled in my life! Yet even at that point, I was wishing it had been Spock. Damn him, why does he always have to come between me and every man I try to get involved with?” Christine lamented, her tone a mixture of anger and pain. Once again, the Human woman sighed and finished her drink, but pushed her only partially eaten meal away. “I’ve lost my appetite, Leonard. I can’t eat any more. Besides, we’ve been away from Lani for over an hour, so we’ve got to check on her, see if her condition has changed at all.”

With that, Christine and McCoy pushed their chairs back and got up. When Spock heard this, he knew he had to get out of the room but quick. He stood up and hurried out, the pain inside him almost incapacitating. The way he felt, he doubted he would be able to discuss it with Jim until he’d been able to sort out everything in both his mind and heart.

He had gotten the answers he sought, but found himself wishing that he’d never come to the restaurant, never eavesdropped. The loneliness and emptiness inside him was incredible…worse than any he had ever felt before. The only thing that made it anywhere near bearable was the fact that Christine still loved him, despite what she had done with Barnabas Collins.

Even so, how could he realistically expect her to choose him, even if he did manage to declare himself and she actually believed him? It would not only be arrogant but illogical to take her choice for granted, although Spock’s half-Human heart prayed for that very thing to come about, despite how bleak things looked now.

But he still had to make sure to do something in order to give her a better, more logical reason to choose him—though even then, it was possible that no matter what he did, she still might decide against him…and he couldn’t blame her if she did. In that event, the Vulcan didn’t know how he would ever handle being in close proximity to her and know she was lost to him forever because of his own cowardice. It was still likely, however, that she would still decide to remain with the ship, even if she became Mrs. Barnabas Collins.

You…stupid kre’nath, the Vulcan cursed himself as he stumbled blindly to the elevator, thankful he didn’t run into anyone between the restaurant and his room, so no one would see him in his self-inflicted misery. Why in Vulcan’s name did you wait so long to declare yourself, you miserable, insufferable in’fai!

The distance between the elevator and the door of his room had seemed endless, but he finally made it. He was glad to see that Lt. Holloway had gone; he assumed that she had returned to her own room…the room she shared with Christine. He even noted that what had been her side of the table was immaculate, while the remnants of Jim’s meal still sat before him.

Christine! Spock thought, anguished, the name calling up her face, her smile, her kiss… Even now, he could feel the warmth, taste the sweetness of her lips despite the fact that their first and only kiss had been forced. But that didn’t matter now. The point was, it had occurred—but if he didn’t do something to fight for her, if only figuratively, he would never taste those lips again.

No! That must not happen! I cannot...will not...lose her like this! his mind and heart shouted simultaneously.

One look at his Vulcan friend told Kirk something was very wrong. He followed Spock into their shared bedroom with its twin double beds. “Spock, are you all right? Is something wrong?”

The Vulcan did not answer, flopping down gracelessly onto his bed, one arm over his eyes to block out the light from the window—and hide his unbidden tears.

“Spock, let me help…please,” Kirk entreated. “I can’t stand to see you like this.”

When the Vulcan finally did speak, his voice was so soft Kirk could barely hear him. “Please, my friend,” he whispered hoarsely. “I…know how—concerned you are for me, but I… cannot discuss it now. Please leave me. I—must be…alone for a time, to—gather my thoughts.”

His friend’s tone was so pleading that Kirk could not deny him. “All right, Spock, but if I don’t see you within four hours, I’m coming back to check on you.”

The Vulcan nodded stiffly in the direction of Kirk’s voice, then the latter quietly left the room, closing the door soundlessly behind him, his frustration and concern twisting into a heavy, painful knot in his gut at not being allowed to help his friend in the time of the latter’s greatest need.

When Spock came out of the bedroom, roughly half an hour after Christine’s departure with Barnabas, Kirk was horrified at his appearance. He looked haggard and there were dark circles under his eyes, as if he had neither slept nor meditated for at least a week. Kirk rushed to his friend’s side to help him to the couch when he seemed about to collapse.

“Spock, you look terrible! What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

“I…have experienced a nightmare,” the Vulcan whispered hoarsely, visibly trembling from the trauma of it.

“Must have been a real whopper—that is, a really bad one,” the Captain amended at his alien friend’s raised eyebrows. “You don’t terrify easily.” Kirk was quiet for a while, sensing that Spock needed medical help, then said, “I think I should call Bones.” It frightened him even more when the Vulcan didn’t argue with him. A moment later, the Captain reached for his communicator on the coffee table before them and flipped it open. “Bones, you need to come back. It’s Spock.”

“Why? What’s happened?” the Doctor asked, both curious and concerned when he answered.

“Spock’s had a nightmare…a really bad one. I think he’s in shock. He’s pale and trembling; his skin’s clammy…” Kirk’s voice trailed off.

“Has he told you about it yet?” McCoy asked.

“No, he just came out of the bedroom, looking like he was ready to collapse. I had to help him to the couch.”

“I suppose it’s safe enough to leave Lani for now. Her condition hasn’t changed. As soon as I’ve given Dickerson orders to call me if anything happens, I’ll be right there. McCoy out.”

“Thanks, Bones. Kirk out.” The Captain returned his attention to his other friend. “McCoy’s on his way. Can you tell me anything about the nightmare?”

The Vulcan seemed not to hear him for a moment, then suddenly threw himself into his Human friend’s arms. Kirk held his friend protectively, comfortingly, like he would a frightened child, stroking the Vulcan’s silky dark head soothingly as it rested on his shoulder. Spock held his Human companion in a tight hug, as if his life depended on it. Kirk took short, shallow breaths because of this to keep from passing out.

“Jim, Jim… It was terrible…horrible…” The voice was babbling, almost incoherent, so unlike the Vulcan’s ordinary strong, deep baritone.

“What happened?” Kirk asked in his gentlest voice.

Just then, before Spock had a chance to formulate a reply, McCoy approached them, scanner in hand and running it over the Vulcan’s body. “You’re right, Jim. It’s shock,” the CMO confirmed. “But what the devil could have caused this? Spock’s not easily frightened or intimidated.”

“I…don’t know, Bones. I was hoping that together, we would—be able to get it all…out of him.”

“Good idea, Jim—but he needs a tranquilizer first. He’s holding onto you so tight that it’s a wonder you can still breathe…not to mention the fact you’re going to have bruises on your shoulders and arms for weeks to come.”

A moment later the Doctor gave the Vulcan a shot to calm him; Spock released Kirk and allowed his friends to lay him down on the couch. Both of the large, thick cushions there were placed under his head and knees respectively. McCoy sent Kirk for the comforter off Spock’s bed and again checked the latter’s vital signs for any change.

While the Captain tucked the comforter around Spock, McCoy pulled up two chairs and placed them near him before seating himself in one and gesturing to Kirk to seat himself in the other. “Spock? It’s McCoy,” the Doctor crooned gently. “I’ve given you a mild tranquilizer. You should feel calmer by now, but don’t try to get up. Just lie quiet and rest; Jim and I will stay with you. Can you tell us about the nightmare?”

The Vulcan smiled tiredly but gratefully. “I—shall attempt to do so, Doctor.”

“Who was in it?” Kirk asked softly.

“Myself, Christine and Barnabas Collins,” Spock revealed quietly.

“What were the three of you doing?” McCoy asked.

“I…was searching for Christine, but—could not find her. It was…dark, cold and desolate; I--had no idea where I was. Then suddenly, Barnabas Collins appeared…seemingly out of nowhere. I asked him if he had—seen her. He smiled and nodded. ‘Come, I will take you to her,’ he said. He… led me to an old, seemingly deserted mansion…then downstairs—into the basement, where I saw… two coffins, one of them…open and empty, the other closed. I asked again—where was Christine? He…gestured to the closed coffin. I—gave him a…strange look. What would she be doing here, in a coffin?

‘Ask her and find out,’ Barnabas tells me—again smiling enigmatically.

I stepped up to the…closed coffin and opened it. I—found Christine lying in it, her…hands folded on her abdomen, seemingly asleep. Then as I looked at her, she—awakened and …spoke to me. ‘Spock—I need to tell you something,’ she said…then sat up and touched my hand as it rested on the side of the coffin. Her touch was—as cold as ice. I looked up at Barnabas accusingly.

‘What have you done to her?’ I demanded to know.

‘She belongs to me now,’ Barnabas said. ‘She will…be my bride for all eternity.’

‘What do you mean?’ I asked, frightened in spite of myself.

‘Can you not guess, my love?’ Christine asked. ‘Barnabas has made me into what he is. I will be eternally young and beautiful…and best of all, never be alone again. He will always be with me. I—directed him to bring you to me so that I could…tell you goodbye and that I’ll never forget you. In fact, I’ll even give you—a kiss to remember me by.’ With that, she…reached for me, attempting to put her arms around my neck. Her…mouth opened, revealing animal-like fangs. I… paled and backed away.

‘I am sorry, Christine. I cannot allow you to do so,’ I told her.

Tears filled her eyes, but I just could not do it. However, just when I—least expected it, I felt a strong push from behind…and went—directly into her arms. The…next thing I knew, she had—sunk her fangs into my throat and sucked my blood. I…screamed in spite of myself but could not stop her. She took enough of my blood so that I—collapsed beside the coffin. Then she was…cradling me in her arms as Barnabas looked on.

She smiled apologetically. ‘I’m—sorry, beloved, but I find that I just can’t leave you behind. Within three days, you shall become…as we are—then we will roam the night, all of us…together for all eternity.’

‘No…no!…No!’ I cried out, seeing in my mind’s eye what I would become, growing long, sharp and hideous teeth and feeling a growing—hunger for blood, knowing I would…never see the sun again. The prospect was too much—I…passed out. Then not long afterward, I woke up—and came out here.”

“Oh, my dear God,” the Captain whispered, every bit as pale as Spock.

“No wonder he’s in shock,” McCoy put in. “To find Christine as one of those…things, then be turned into one himself—that could horrify even a Vulcan,” the Doctor finished.

“Bones, will he be all right?” Kirk asked. There was no reply. “Damn it, tell me! Will he or won’t he?” the Captain cried impatiently.

“Oh, sorry, Jim. I didn’t hear you at first. Yes, I believe he’ll be all right,” the Doctor assured him. “For now, he just needs rest, quiet and good companionship. Which reminds me—where’s Christine? Still with Barnabas?”

Kirk nodded. “She went with him to meet his cousin…said she would probably not be back until at least midnight—and that either he or his cousin would bring her home.”

“Too bad. She could help Spock by proving that nothing’s happened to her,” the Doctor opined.

“Yet,” Kirk finished. “Until she gets back, we have to fill in as best we can. He’ll need all the friendship and support we—”

Just then McCoy’s communicator sounded off. “Doctor McCoy!” Dickerson called, alarmed, after the Doctor opened it.

“McCoy here. What’s happened?” the CMO spoke into his communicator.

“Lani’s dead. She went into cardiac arrest five minutes ago. I couldn’t stop it.”

Both men’s eyes closed in pain; Spock seemed to be dozing. “It’s all right, Andy. You did all you could. I’ll be there in a few minutes. McCoy out.” After closing the communicator, he turned back to Kirk. “Oh my God, Jim. Do you know what this means?” McCoy’s voice trailed off, each man seeing stark fear in the other’s face. How would they ever tell Spock or Christine, much less deal with what they would likely have to do to spare Ensign Davidson the Hell of vampirism?

Meanwhile, at Barnabas and Quentin’s apartment, Christine—as yet unaware of the drama unfolding back at the Collinsport Inn—was laughing and joking with Quentin while Barnabas sat next to her, holding her gently but securely. His cheek rested on top of her head, his hands entwined at her waist, and he occasionally kissed her hair.

Quentin couldn’t help noting how happy and content Christine seemed to be with his cousin. At the same time, he considered it strange that she would leave Spock, the Vulcan whom she reportedly loved, to begin an affair with Barnabas. Something must have happened to change her feelings toward Spock…something which Barnabas might or might not have had anything to do with.

Christine, for her part, found Quentin Collins every bit as charming and polite as his cousin, albeit in a different way. He was more conventionally handsome as well, but she felt no inclination to switch from one cousin to the other. Just the same, Quentin tended to be every bit as close-mouthed and secretive as Barnabas. It seemed to be a Collins family trait, just as following medical and/or scientific careers seemed to be a Chapel family trait.

Even her father Christopher, now a retired diplomat, had started his working life as a xenobiologist, and because of all the times her parents had talked about their careers with her, Christine could only assume that that was at least part of the reason she came by her medical/scientific aptitude.

But at the moment she was more concerned with what she’d heard about Quentin…the legend of his having become a werewolf, not to mention how a most unusual portrait of him painted by one Charles Delaware Tate, an artist who could reportedly paint people and actually bring them to life by doing so, had saved him. In this case, the painting supposedly showed all the ravages of time that Quentin did not, reminiscent of the novel The Picture of Dorian Gray and the old movie of the same name.

It was even said that Quentin was immortal…or close to it. However, she had also heard of the legend that Quentin’s ghost had haunted Collinwood for some years prior to its destruction in 1970 Real Time, so somebody had to be either exaggerating, mistaken—or if certain reports were true, it had happened in another band of time.

There were only certain things either man was anywhere near willing to talk about, though …and it usually wasn’t themselves, at least not to any great extent. It was more likely to be about friends or other family. She had frankly been surprised that Barnabas had been so forthcoming, at least initially—but now, no matter how she tried, she had been unable to get him to discuss his background further. At this point, Spock would probably have been more talkative …and that was saying something!

Which reminded her, she’d have to check in and see how he was doing at the first opportunity. For the last several days, she had been so busy with Barnabas that she had seen Spock mostly in passing. They hadn’t spent any substantial amount of time together, mainly because she hadn’t allowed him too close, and after she’d ordered him to stay away from her, Spock had apparently taken her at her word and kept his distance.

But she did still care about him, and her conscience was beginning to bother her because of the way she had been treating him—avoiding him whenever possible, keeping him at arms’ length when they had to be in proximity, openly discussing the details of her dates with Barnabas. Maybe now he had some idea of how she had felt all the years he had done essentially the same thing to her. Enough was enough, however; he’d surely gotten the message by now.

“So how’s your investigation going, Christine?” Quentin asked.

Christine came back to reality with a jolt. “Investigation? Can’t complain…too much, that is. Barnabas has helped all he can, and some of us have been questioning people to see if they heard or saw anything on the night of the attack which might help us.”

“Any luck?” Quentin wondered.

“Some people said they’d been awakened by piercing screams shortly after midnight; not much else.”

“How is your Security officer doing?”

“Stable, last I heard, but still weak. We had to give her at least two transfusions and she’s still not recovered.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I hope she’s better soon.”

They had been listening to some classical music—Tchaikovsky’s greatest hits or something, and according to Barnabas, performed by the London Philharmonic Orchestra, his favorite artists, who only did classical pieces. During one piece, an inexplicable sadness came over Christine and tears filled her eyes; she snuggled closer to Barnabas for comfort. He was inwardly startled but didn’t question her actions, simply tightened his embrace. Quentin was the one who voiced his concern.

“Is something wrong, Christine?”

“Something about the music,” she explained. “It’s beautiful, but very sad. This particular piece, anyway. What’s it called?”

“None But the Lonely Heart,” Quentin supplied. “Barnabas likes it, too.”

“No wonder,” Christine remarked. “Which reminds me, I’d better check in, see how things are going. May I put the comm into visual mode? I generally like to see who I’m talking to.”

Barnabas stiffened; she smiled reassuringly.

“But I make an exception for you.”

He smiled and nodded. “Go ahead; just remember to switch it back when you’re finished,” he told her.

Christine reluctantly extricated herself from Barnabas’ arms and moved over to the comm unit, then opened it and put it into visual mode, keying in the comm code for the Enterprise men’s suite. A moment later, she was surprised to see McCoy’s craggy face. The look in his eyes frightened her.

“Leonard, what’s going on? Is something wrong?”

“Christine, thank God you called!” McCoy exclaimed. “Lani Davidson is dead. Cardiac arrest about two hours ago.”

“Oh, lord…” she breathed. “Anything else?”

“Spock is recovering from shock. Very bad nightmare. He’s resting comfortably now; I gave him a mild tranquilizer—but I can’t tell you anything more about it until you get back.”

She looked carefully at McCoy and heard the concern for Spock that the Doctor rarely admitted to in his voice. His eyes were haunted, but his face had been schooled into a professional mask.

“I wonder what prompted it?” she asked.

“I have no idea, Chris…but I think it had something to do with you; consequently, it would help Spock’s recovery if you could come back and sit with him to assure him that you’re all right. He seems convinced that you’re in mortal danger and nothing Jim or I say changes his mind. He’s got to hear it from you before he’ll be satisfied.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can, Leonard. Everything else all right?”

“Fine. See you as soon as you can get here. McCoy out.”

“Right. Chapel out.” Christine looked up at the touch of Barnabas’ hand on her right shoulder. Quentin stood next to him.

“What is wrong, Christine?”

“The girl who was attacked died a couple of hours ago, and Mr. Spock has had some kind of intense psychic dream—a nightmare, really—where I’m in danger and he needs to see me for himself to make sure I’m all right.”

Quentin frowned. “I thought you said you two were just friends.”

“As far as I know,” Christine confirmed.

“Doesn’t sound like it. Seems more like he’s either in love with you or getting there fast. I’ve studied Vulcans some, and they don’t generally act this way about someone unless they…care deeply for them.”

“Nice thought, Quentin, but I’m not holding my breath. It’s been too many years and Spock’s too stubbornly logical for me to allow myself to believe that he’s suddenly—developed deep feelings for me.”

“Do you want to go back to the Inn now? I was just about to order dinner from there,” Quentin told her.

“My medical instinct tells me I’d better go home now. I’ll take a rain check on the dinner. Leonard—Dr. McCoy—doesn’t usually call me unless it’s serious and he needs my help.”

Barnabas sighed and lowered his hand. “In that case, I had better take you home.” He helped her into her jacket and told Quentin he would return shortly; with that, the couple left for the Inn. Although Barnabas technically could have called for an aircab, the Inn was within walking distance of the apartment building, so he chose to walk Christine home instead since he wanted to be with her as long as possible.

Again, he had had to take a dose of blood earlier so he could be with her and still control his hunger. He kept an arm around her as they walked; Barnabas had discovered that when he was with Christine, he was able to forget his affliction, if only for a little while…and hoped against hope that he would not lose this woman in some nasty way as he had lost the others he had loved, particularly Josette and Roxanne.

One of them had tumbled off the Widows’ Hill cliff not too far from Collinwood; the other had been left behind in 1970 Parallel Time when he and Julia had escaped through the secret room in the West Wing—then after their return from 1995 and learning of the destruction of Collinwood by the zombie minions of the evil ghost of Gerard Stiles from 1840, he had met another version of Roxanne in 1840, Real Time, whom he had inadvertently made into one such as he.

His nemesis Angelique, a witch who had originally put him under the curse of vampirism because he had spurned her love, had returned and learned of his love for Roxanne (and vice versa), then re-opened the wounds on her neck, which had been healing, and she had bled enough to turn her into a vampire despite his most earnest pleadings.

Worst of all, he had found that she had survived through into 1970, Real Time--and had had control of the psychic Sebastian Shaw. Shaw had eventually rebelled against her and taken his new love, Maggie Evans, to Wyndcliff Hospital and Sanitarium in Bangor so that she could fully recover from the savage vampire attacks (at least three), which had nearly cost her her life.

Unlike him, it seemed that Roxanne enjoyed being a vampire, enjoyed being a member of the living dead with a hunger for blood, enjoyed attacking her victims over and over, as she had attacked Maggie. It sickened him; she had always been a warm, loving, unselfish person when truly alive. Barnabas could only hope that someone had managed to destroy her between then and now, once and for all.

He could still recall when she had first risen; he had instructed Julia to put her to rest, but Angelique had intervened and made her fall asleep until after dark. When Julia had finally arrived at the crypt, she had discovered the coffin empty, then whirled upon feeling a malevolent presence nearby. Roxanne wore the lavender dress she had been buried in; her face had become feral and animalistic and she had come for Julia, arms out and her mouth open to reveal tiger-like fangs…

Because Angelique controlled Roxanne, he hadn’t been able to find Julia after the attack until it was almost too late. And now that the girl in the Enterprise party had died, it was only a matter of time until she, too, would rise as Roxanne had…and within three days, as he recalled. He wished could have avoided the whole horrifying incident, but all he could do now was advise Christine as to the best thing to do for their young friend in order to spare her the Hell he had been made to endure.

“I assume you know what will happen now that your Miss Davidson has died,” Barnabas told her.

“I do,” Christine confirmed. “I’ve read up on the subject.”

“You must do it within three days or else she is doomed. What is more, it must be done before dark on the third day.”

“I know,” came the reply. “But it’s not something I’m looking forward to.”

“It’s not a pleasant prospect, I know—but it must be done, in order for her to be at peace.”

“I’ll tell Dr. McCoy and we’ll decide who’s to do it and when, don’t worry,” she assured him.

“It should take only a short time; it is the actual deed which is distasteful,” he finished.

Not long afterward the pair fell silent, not speaking during the final half-block or so. Barnabas again insisted on seeing Christine to her door, kissing her good night before turning to leave. “Keep me informed.”

“Will do,” she promised.

“Good night, Christine. Sleep well, take care of yourself—and think of me.”

“I will…and you take care, too. Also, please thank Quentin for his hospitality.”

“I will. Good night.” With that, he was gone—again, a tad too soon and too strangely for her taste, but what mattered was that she was safely back at the Inn. Now she could find out what had happened with Spock and Lani. After changing clothes and briefly explaining why she was back early to Marisa Holloway, Christine went to the suite, Kirk, Spock and McCoy shared with Dickerson to speak with them.

“Thank God you’re back, Christine!” the latter exclaimed, giving his friend and assistant a bear hug.

Once Christine got her breath back, she asked McCoy to fill her in on what had happened in her absence. He smiled and agreed, but thought it would be better for Spock if they could do it in his presence so that he would be reassured of her safety. She followed the Doctor into the next room, where Spock was still lying on the couch, but he seemed more like himself now. Kirk sat next to him and they were speaking animatedly. Of course, Christine knew that that could be due as much to his friends’ presence as to the tranquilizer.

She approached the other two men; Kirk smiled and nodded in her direction. “Glad to see you back, Miss Chapel. Has Bones told you what happened?”

“Just a little. We decided to come in here to discuss the details so Spock would be reassured of my safety.”

Just then, the Vulcan got into the conversation. “I am…pleased to see that you have returned safely, Christine. Are you all right?”

She seated herself next to Kirk in the second chair and smiled reassuringly at him. “Yes, Spock, I’m fine. Thank you. Now what is this I hear about your having such a bad nightmare that Dr. McCoy had to tranquilize you in order to calm you sufficiently?”

The First Officer winced and closed his eyes. “I…cannot discuss it again right now. Perhaps later this evening?”

“If that’s what you want,” she agreed with another warm smile.

“I can take Jim for a late dinner then so that you two can talk privately, Chris,” McCoy offered, answering her unspoken question.

“Thanks, Leonard. How about telling me about Lani in the morning, then we can decide what to do?”

“All right with me,” the CMO concurred.

With that, the group decided to watch a favorite holovid, Fantasia. There was one part showing the Devil and dead or evil things, so the Humans decided to fast-forward through that part in deference to Spock’s still-fragile psychological state. Once the holo finished, the other two men stretched and prepared to leave after quick showers and a change into fresh clothes. The Captain and McCoy promised to bring back something for Spock and Christine; after taking their orders, they left, locking their doors behind them and leaving the latter pair alone.

“All right, Spock, we’re alone. I’d like to hear about that nightmare now.”

The Vulcan still seemed hesitant but agreed. “I only ask that you…join me on the couch. Sitting up, I mean,” he explained. “It will be—difficult to tell, so I…may need you to—hold me at some point. That is, if you…do not object.”

“Oh, no, Spock, of course not. I know how it must have seemed to you these last few days, but I do still care about you and will do all I can to help you.”

The First Officer bowed his head, feeling color come into his cheeks. “Thank you, Christine. I—very much appreciate your thoughtfulness.”

She merely smiled again as she sat down next to him on the couch. “All right, Spock, I’m listening.”

The Vulcan then swallowed hard and began.

Go to: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

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