Q's Gift 2/5 (Hermione/nu!Spock ~ PG13)
Summary: McCoy is determined to look after a particular stubborn patient of his. He and Spock learn more of Jim Kirk's history, the facts not in the official files.
AN: Near the end of Reboot the Movie. Between the Narada's destruction and Kirk gaining Captaincy of the Enterprise.
~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~
~ooO After the Narada Ooo~
McCoy focused on completing the latest of the never-ending reports and patient files he had to maintain. It was part of his new duties as the current CMO of the Enterprise. Of course a CMO usually had a full staff of trained, experienced medics to handle the minutiae of Sick Bay. The Enterprise didn't. They'd lost three doctors, eight nurses, and nine field-medics in the Battle of Vulcan and the Narada Action. McCoy hadn't had the time to catch up on his paperwork until now, after the Enterprise had limped to Sol System, somehow in one piece. He had been too focused on keeping his patients alive and the traumatized, grieving crew from snapping.
"Doctor?"
The Georgia-born doctor looked up into the face of a blond, blue-eyed angel and resisted the urge to yell and chase the intruder off. Nurse Christine Chapel was a consummate professional and quite immune to his snark.
"What is it, Chapel?"
"You wanted to be informed of Captain Pike's situation."
Adrenaline spiked in McCoy's veins. "What is it?" He grabbed at the PADD she held and nearly overbalanced when she moved out range of his swipe.
"Doctor, Starfleet Medical has assigned a full team of specialists to treat Captain Pike. He has been transferred out of your care. You don't have to keep worrying about him."
McCoy shook his head. "He was my patient first," he insisted.
Chapel sighed. "Okay, but please note, I strongly believe you are stretching yourself too much, Doctor. We were given six weeks of downtime to recover from the battle and to grieve while the Enterprise is being repaired. I'm certain you aren't supposed to spend your downtime in Medical treating patients," she warned.
McCoy huffed. "Pike was my patient first. I need to make sure he's doing okay."
Chapel looked disapproving. "You can easily do that by reviewing his patient file."
McCoy snorted. "Give me a break, Chapel. You and I know the emotional effects of an injury like this are more devastating than the physical damage. Pike knows he is damn unlikely to get command of a ship anytime soon. And I know damn well the command types are the best at pretending everything is just fine and dandy while the ship is coming apart around them. I need to see him in person."
The nurse stared at her superior and nodded briefly before holding the PADD out. "Here are his most recent records. Copy it to your PADD. If you need anything else, let me know."
McCoy relaxed a tiny bit. "Thanks, Christine."
~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~
Commander Spock did not display any hint of stress or concern as he strode down the corridors of Phlox Medical Building, West Wing, fifth floor.
"Commander!"
His stride faltered and came to a stop. He turned on one polished boot heel.
"Doctor McCoy."
"Yeah. Didn't expect to see you around here. Thought you would be at the Vulcan Embassy."
Spock inclined his head slightly. "I was. Now I am here to see Captain Pike."
McCoy nodded firmly. "Good. He needs all the visitors he can get. To keep him distracted and not depressed. Though I'm not sure how good you'll be for that." The sharp jibe did not have too much affect. McCoy was abrasive and rude to everyone. It was a surprise he had enlisted in a military organization and gone through the Academy without being disciplined.
Spock focused on resuming his course, very aware that McCoy was matching his pace, grumbling slightly under his breath. The Vulcan's focus was slightly split: one part was concerned about his former captain; the other was debating his future options, to stay in Starfleet or to retire his commission and join the rest of his people on the new colony.
"Spock, I'm worried about Pike."
The Vulcan officer shifted his focus to his companion. "About what, Doctor? From what I understand, Captain Pike is being treated by the best trauma specialists and neurosurgeons in Starfleet Medical."
McCoy made an impatient gesture, flapping his hand loosely. "Yeah, yeah, but you have to understand Spock, there isn't much they can do for him. His nerves were absolutely destroyed, dissolved by the chemical toxins. Even modern medicine can't rebuild what is no longer there."
Spock nodded slowly. "I understand. My own research yielded similar conclusions."
"I'm not supposed to be saying this, but the only realistic option left is an exoskeletal implant system. And Pike has been refusing to consider it." McCoy frowned slightly. "The longer we wait, the more his body adjusts and heals the loss and the less effective the implant system will be. If he's going to recover any degree of mobility, he needs to undergo surgery in the next nine to ten weeks."
"What do you require from me?" Spock wasn't certain he wanted to know the answer, but the question needed to be voiced.
"Talk to him. Talk to Captain Illyria Xanamaha. She has his power of attorney and might be able to change his mind."
Spock frowned slightly. "He does listen to Number One," he admitted slowly, "but I cannot make any recommendations without doing more research myself."
"That's fine. Just do it quickly, and talk to both of them. I hope they'll listen to Vulcan logic since they've been ignoring all advice from trained medical professionals."
Spock nodded. "Understood."
Both men turned down a side corridor and went through the swinging doors isolating private patient rooms. After signing in at the nurses' station, they made their way to a particular patient room. The room was empty of its assigned resident, but not unoccupied.
A mature, fair-complexioned woman in her fifties, with short reddish-brown hair, wearing black pants and a command gold tunic with braiding at the cuffs indicating her rank of captain, turned away from the other occupant, a much younger blond man in cadet reds.
The man smiled upon seeing the newcomers. "Hey Spock! Bones!" His expression turned a tad more sober. "If you're here to see Pike, he's in PT. He should be back in about twenty minutes."
The female Captain nodded. "Jim is correct. You are welcome to join us if you have the time to wait."
McCoy nodded. "Actually, this is perfect." He turned to the female. "I want to know why you aren't supporting the medical advice to start the exoskeletal implant therapy."
Captain Illyria Xanamaha, more commonly known as Number One when she was Pike's XO, frowned. "Doctor McCoy, medical professionals can advise, but patients are free to refuse treatment."
McCoy glowered. "But I don't see any reason why Pike is refusing! The longer he waits, the less likely he is to ever walk! The longer he waits to start the regimen, the chances of the implants taking decrease correspondingly."
Number One frowned faintly. "I am aware of that. So is Chris." She paused, her lips pressed tightly together. "We simply wish to explore alternative avenues."
McCoy was taken aback. "What alternatives? I've looked at all the experimental treatments and untested neurosurgery techniques being developed. There is nothing that can undo damage caused by Centaurian slug toxins on human neural tissue. Anyone who says otherwise is a liar."
Number One and Kirk glanced at each other, communicating silently before coming to a unified decision. Spock could never understand how a psi-null race could manage an almost telepathic feat. This time it was Kirk who spoke.
"There are less…orthodox options, Bones."
McCoy pounced. "Less orthodox? What do you mean, Jim?"
Again that silent communication before Number One responded, "There is one more…specialist who might be able to help. If she says nothing can be done, Chris will almost definitely agree to start the implant therapy."
"What is this miracle worker a specialist in?" McCoy wanted to know. So did Spock.
Jim's answer was blunt and completely unanticipated. "Magic. She's a witch."
McCoy's jaw dropped before his complexion turned purple. "What the fuck are you high on, you idiot! You're believing some scam-artist who claims to be a witch over licensed, trained medical professions? Why I oughta-"
"Enough!" Number One's glare was enough to cut off McCoy mid-rant. When he fell silent, she continued, "I don't expect you to believe or accept, but I expect you to respect the patient's beliefs and lifestyle just as you would any patient who refuses treatment for religious or cultural reasons." McCoy opened his mouth to speak, then shut it and nodded curtly. "Have some faith. Starfleet would not have made me a captain if I was a gullible fool. And trust that Jim has enough experience and street smarts to spot a con-artist.
"Jean is the real thing. She has abilities most humans don't. Some of them include healing others, like an old-style faith healer, like Vulcan healing trances. I don't know how it works, but I've seen it with my own eyes." She glared at McCoy, daring him to comment. He knew better than that. "She is also honest. She doesn't leech from her clients. All she asks for is travel, living, and treatment expenses, in addition to a single hefty consultation fee. If she can't do something, she is upfront about it and only takes the travel and living expenses."
McCoy sneered. "If she is such a miracle worker, why hasn't the medical community heard about her?"
Now Number One looked amused. "Do you think she cares about public recognition and accolades? No. Part of her conditions is strict confidentiality. No publicity or organizations or government agencies. And all her clients know better than to break her rules. All the licensed doctor on file knows is that the patient recovered. An inexplicable medical miracle."
McCoy opened his mouth to protest, before shutting it with a thoughtful expression. "Eric Peterson? He was one of my patients in my first year, a jet-ski accident. The bone shards from the shattered spine were too numerous and badly placed for conventional surgery. I was informed he was being transferred out for specialist treatment. A few months later, I heard he had completely recovered. There was nothing in his file indicating any additional specialist treatment received after he left the Academy."
Number One shrugged. "He may have been one of her clients. I know the boy's father. Commodore Jack Peterson was a year behind Chris in the Academy."
McCoy swung around to Kirk. "And how did you get tangled up in this mess?"
Kirk shrugged. "Mia's a friend. She saved me." The answers were short and completely inadequate, but Kirk refused to expand. He turned to Number One. "Last I heard she's in Europe. I'll take the next shuttle over and track her down."
Spock noted a discrepancy. "Is her name Jean or Mia?"
Number One and Kirk glanced at each other. Kirk shrugged and responded, "Both. She uses a lot of aliases.
"Her actions are illegal," the hybrid pointed out carefully. "She is practicing medicine without training or a license."
Kirk snorted and grinned. "Trust me, Spock, what she does is nothing even similar to what Bones does."
Spock glanced at Number One. "Is it similar to Vulcan healing methods?"
She nodded. "Yes. But not entirely."
"Even Vulcan healers are trained and tested before they are allowed to practice."
Kirk snorted. "Hey look, there is no Earth equivalent to whatever agency regulates and licenses your healers. If she ever went to the medical community, they'd (a) laugh her out as a lunatic and try to commit her to an asylum, (b) believe her and push her to keep healing every near-hopeless case until she burned out, or (c) fear her and label her an Augment and cut her open, trying to figure out how she does it. So she created (d) and decided to do none of the above."
McCoy opened his mouth to protest, then shut it. Each of the first three scenarios were quite probable depending on who was informed.
Number One nodded, satisfied she and Kirk had made their points clear. She turned to the younger man. "She is most likely in England. Find her. Use the account for any expenses."
Kirk nodded soberly. "I will."
And he left after saying his farewells to his best friend and former acting captain and XO.
~o~
Thirty hours later, McCoy received a message from Illyria Xanamaha inviting him to stop by and visit Pike at his private home off Starfleet grounds. The doctors had released Pike the same day Number One and Jim had told him they were going to ask a witch-healer to examine Pike. There was no reason for Pike to remain on campus since he was refusing all treatment and any PT sessions could be conducted during scheduled visits by a trained physiotherapist.
~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~
McCoy stomped up the old fashioned interlocking stone path leading up to the tall, narrow detached house. He wondered if the interior had been upgraded to have modern conveniences and new necessities like a lift and/or ramps.
He glared up at his silent companion.
"Now listen here, hobgoblin. I expect you to put that brain of yours to work as soon as we get in the door! The quicker you disprove this witchcraft nonsense, the quicker Pike can get started on the implant regime."
Spock's nostrils flared. "Doctor, part of the scientific process requires keeping an open mind and collecting data without bias before making a hypothesis."
McCoy stopped. "You can't be serious, Spock! Witchcraft, magic, and voodoo nonsense is just that! Unscientific mumbo jumbo! No one believes in such foolishness anymore."
Spock frowned slightly. "Doctor, at one point in Terran history, everyone believed the Earth was flat and that one would fall off the edge if one sailed too far from shore."
McCoy was taken aback. "That's different."
Spock sniffed. "No, it is exactly the same." And then he resumed his trek up the stairs and rapped sharply using the old-fashioned door knocker.
Within ten seconds the door was opened by Jim Kirk. He looked faintly relieved to see them.
"I'm glad you're here. Come on in." And he moved aside to allow his friends to enter the narrow foyer before guiding them to the back of the house. "Listen, Bones, just shut up and don't say anything too offensive. If you piss Mia off, she can make your life miserable."
"How? By giving me the Evil Eye?" McCoy scoffed.
Kirk stopped sharply and glared at his best friend. "Shut up, Bones! You don't know a thing about Mia and you don't want to. Fine! I can accept that. But I don't want to hear you talking trash about her!"
McCoy was taken aback by the furiously passionate defence from his usually laid-back friend.
"I don't get it, Jim. You're not one to believe in superstition. There is no such thing as magic!"
"Maybe it is psi or esper powers, or maybe it is something else altogether, but, from what I've seen, the closest description of Mia's abilities is magic."
The older male frowned slightly. "Jim, how can you be so sure?"
Kirk shrugged. "I trust her."
"But why?" McCoy wanted to know.
For a moment McCoy thought his best friend would not answer. He and Spock followed the younger male into the kitchen, furnished in white, black, and steel and modern conveniences. They watched Kirk pour premade lemonade from a jug into three glasses and pass them out before sipping from one himself. They waited until he began speaking, eyes distant.
"I ran away when I was fifteen. I couldn't stay in Riverside for a lot of reasons. I hitchhiked part of the way and walked the rest to Iowa City. It was the middle of winter, and I was too scared of being recognized to go into any of the more populous public places to get warm. I started spending all day at the local libraries, cycling through all the branches so the librarians wouldn't catch on. I bumped into her quite often. She somehow persuaded me to give her tech and history lessons in exchange for food. She could have easily learnt the same stuff from the Net, but she didn't so that she'd have an excuse to feed me. She did not judge me or ask me why I was alone with no money or friends. When I ran into some trouble with the local gangs, she was there. She insisted I stay with her since I was incapable of staying out of trouble." He laughed softly. "Every time I ran away, she somehow tracked me down and hauled me back. I screamed and shouted and broke down and cried in the end. Somehow she made me feel less empty and broken and fragile. So I stayed and found out she could do…odd things. That was how she made money. It wasn't entirely legal, but I wasn't too interested in legalities."
Spock shifted minutely. "What sort of odd things, Mr. Kirk?"
Kirk did not answer but simply continued speaking. "It didn't last, of course. Winona found out I'd run away and informed the police. They found me and took me back." There was a slightly broken look in his blue eyes. "When Mia tried to stay in touch, Winona threatened to charge her with statutory rape. Not that anything like that ever happened between us!" he added hastily. "I felt safe with Mia. I could sleep and dream simple dreams, no nightmares, because nothing could hurt me when she was there. She could protect me from anything. But Winona had to show up and ruin everything."
McCoy was silent and slightly shaken by this bit of shared history.
"As soon as I was old enough to leave without being dragged back, I did. I used my hacking skills to track her down and hustled pool between less-than-legal jobs until I had enough credits for transportation." He flashed a smile at Spock. "I travelled with her. She insisted I go to school. I picked up enough credits for a computer engineering degree, mostly through online classes. I did the lab units on whatever campus was closest.
"I think the first thing Mia did in a new city was locate the local libraries and post-secondary institutions. Then she'd somehow introduce herself to a whole pack of people, making off-hand comments, exchanging favours and advice for access to the facilities. I ended up setting up several IDs and histories for her. Most of her academic history ended up being confirmed when she challenged the exams and got the credits for her degree."
McCoy shook his head. "I don't get it, Jim. If she is so bright, why doesn't she just study medicine or whatever interests her. There are grants and scholarships if she can't afford the fees."
Bright blue eyes turned towards McCoy before he got an answer.
"She doesn't have a history, Bones. She wasn't in any Federation database I hacked into. It's like she appeared out of nowhere."
McCoy stilled. "Amnesia?"
Kirk shrugged. "Or something like it. I'm pretty sure she remembers more than she's telling, but it wasn't like I spilled all of my guts to her, so I couldn't protest."
"You can't be serious, Jim," he growled. "Do you honestly expect me to believe this crap?"
"No. Would I like you to? Yes." McCoy huffed. Kirk ignored him. "Just follow me. Number One's in the backyard sunning."
"And your so-called witch?"
"Mia is upstairs examining Pike." He glanced at his watch. "She should be done by now."
He pushed open the glass sliding doors separating the kitchen from the backyard and stepped through. McCoy and Spock followed, watching him hurry down the interlocking brickwork steps and cross the green grass towards two women, a familiar mature brunette with sleek reddish-brown hair and a very unfamiliar, much younger one with a mass of curly light brown hair streaked with blond and chocolate.
~o~
Spock cha'Sarek froze upon seeing the younger unknown woman rise up from her seat, arms held out towards James Kirk. He could feel the subtle power of her intensify and build to a peak the moment she touched the cadet.
She was psi, a very high-level talent and very skilled. He could see the young male relaxing, kneeling in the grass at her feet as she sat down so that his face was easily within her reach. And she touched him. Spock was seized by the urge to pull the potential rival male away when he realized she was touching him as a Vulcan female would, a mother, an elder sister, a clan matriarch.
Fingertips dancing over the temple meld points, over the cheekbones and sinus pressure points, a thumb over the eyelids and up between the brows, long strokes along the cords of the throat and just under the collar of the grey Starfleet gym-T.
He watched as she stroked her hands over Kirk's shoulders and arms, down his chest and sides and back. A Terran would pass it off as an amateur massage, but Spock could sense the energy building and ebbing with each stroke. He could see the effect her actions had on Kirk, the subtle relaxation and reduced tension in him. Spock could see the younger male was moving less stiffly now, twisting his torso when before he had been very careful to avoid performing a similar motion. Somehow her touch must have healed the bruises and damage, or at least numbed the ever-present pain.
"And how have you been, James? The last few weeks must have been tremendously stressful." Her voice was unexpectedly deep and husky, rich with empathy and compassion.
It sent shivers up Spock's spine. It also re-ignited his compulsion to toss Kirk aside and take his place at her feet. The Vulcan resisted the urge to shudder. She clearly had a very powerful and dominating personality. He straightened a fraction and focused on cataloguing his observations.
"Fine, now that you're here," Kirk admitted softly before shifting closer to rest his head on her lap.
Her expression softened as she carded her fingers through thick wheat-blond hair.
"Oh, sweetie…" she sighed, cupping the back of his neck, "I can't always be there with you. You must learn to cope without me."
Kirk shook his head, burying his face in her lap. "Nuh uh." His voice was muffled. "I tried that before. I went on several weeks-long benders. The last one ended with me enlisting in Starfleet."
"But sweetie, it looks like Starfleet has made something of you." She tugged his head up, forcing him to meet her eyes. "Can you honestly say you don't like who you are right now?" Kirk shook his head in the negative. "Then you are in the right place."
"But I don't like being away from you," he grumbled. "I can't comm you when I want. And a shipboard posting means I'll rarely get to see you."
"Listen to me, sweetie. It's just growing nerves. You were in a very bad place when we first met. It is natural to cling to something familiar and stable. But, by that same token, it is natural to grow out of the nest and spread your wings." She cupped his cheeks with both hands. "And you have definitely grown out of the nest and soared high. I'm so proud of you! Your achievements have gone beyond Exceeds Expectations." She laughed softly. "You deserve an Outstanding!" And she kissed him on the forehead soundly before rising, tugging him with her. "Now, why don't you introduce me to your friends." Dark brown eyes glinting with flecks of red and gold turned towards Spock.
She was looking straight at him. An almost triangular face with straight eyebrows, a long, narrow nose pointing down to full unpainted lips and a defined, clefted chin, a knowing look in dark brown eyes, a small, composed smile curving her lips. Her light brown hair was streaked haphazardly in various shades of brown and blond. The tresses around her hairline were twisted into two thin braids at her temples that were pinned behind each ear with small clips allowing the bulk of it to flow and move freely around her shoulders and down her back.
She was not too tall, the top of her head coming to several inches below Kirk's. Spock estimated she would only come up to his chin in bare feet. And she was the very image of the Gryffindor Princess. And Spock dearly wanted to yank her away from the childish cadet.
Kirk grinned broadly. "Mia, meet Doctor Leonard McCoy and Commander Spock cha'Sarek." He indicated each of them in turn. "Bones, Spock, meet…." He turned to her with an inquiring look.
"Jean Evans." The intimate softness was dominated by a clipped, vaguely British accent.
McCoy nodded brusquely. "Miss Evans."
"Doctor McCoy." Her tone was just as clipped. Then she turned towards Spock, her expression settled into a polite mask, though her eyes were as open as ever. "Commander." Her hands and body shifted into the correct position of a neutral outsider entering clan lands. "I grieve with thee and thy people. For your loss and suffering."
Spock did not blink as he murmured the traditional responses. His mind was focused on an extraneous fact. She knew the Old Ways taught only within the Clans, never to outsiders. But how? Did she have an alliance with some other Vulcan clan? Had any survived the destruction of Vulcan? These were questions only she could answer.
She folded her hands and waited, her head inclined at the perfect angle, her posture the exact duplicate of any high-class Vulcan clan daughter. As per tradition she would be required to hold the position until released or requested to fulfil a task by the griever. This was the perfect opportunity to secure the answers he sought, but, by doing so, he would only drive her away. He had to secure her trust first.
So he voiced a more innocuous request.
"Cadet Kirk calls you Mia. It does not resemble the usual Terran-style name contraction."
She was silent before she answered. "It isn't. It is from my birth name, Hermione. I usually go by Jean, which is my middle name."
Spock inclined his head in understanding. Another bit of evidence proving she was the same female about whom Q had told them.
"You are a powerful psi. I can sense it," Spock announced abruptly.
She smiled faintly. "And so are you to have felt it. I understood Vulcans were primarily touch-telepaths."
"We are. But there are always outliers who do not fit the usual Bell curve."
She inclined her head.
McCoy shifted, drawing their attention before speaking. "I don't know who or what you are, and I don't really care at this point as long as you aren't feeding false hopes."
She turned to the doctor with a cooler, more challenging expression. "I do not lie or beat around the bush. I never promise guarantees, only a chance." She turned to Number One. "I had a look at Chris, and I'm not going to lie. He's in really bad shape. Pure physical trauma has fewer complications and is relatively straightforward. This case is different." She hesitated. "I'm going to need supplies and tools I don't have because they are too expensive or restricted."
Number One nodded firmly. "I thought so." She produced a credit wafer. "Use this for any purchases. If it is not enough or you need leverage, let me or Jim know."
"Or myself." Spock announced. Everyone turned to stare at him with varying degrees of disbelief. "Captain Pike is my friend; he has been my advisor and mentor ever since I studied at the Academy."
Jean Evans' expression softened. "Of course. I am uncertain of your commitments. I'm sure you have other priorities, your people…" she trailed off hesitantly.
Spock inclined his head. "You are correct. But I still wish to assist you in your endeavours."
She stared hesitantly, glancing at Kirk, who gave a tiny nod. She turned to him and nodded. "If it is your desire."
"It is."
She picked up a PADD lying on the grass and held it out to him. "These are the supplies I need. The ones in bold are absolutely essential. The items just below and indented are acceptable substitutes."
Spock scanned the list quickly. Most were minerals or raw botanicals, with the occasional animal matter. The majority looked to be items that could be purchased in traditional markets or from a horticultural company. Some looked unfamiliar but Spock was certain he could make any questionable purchases through the Vulcan Embassy. The minerals… He looked up at her.
"The plant and animal matter will not be of great concern. Most can be purchased in the traditional markets. Little India or Chinatown," he announced. "Gemstones cannot be bought in a similar fashion."
She nodded. "I understand. Rose quartz would be an acceptable substitute for amethyst."
"Very well. Do you have any other requirements regarding your supplies?"
"They must be as fresh as possible. Store them in glass containers or raw silk. Try to avoid using transporters. A medical stasis containment unit would be okay. Wrap the crystals and rods in raw silk as well. I will need access to a metal workshop and power tools to build a few things once I have the supplies, as well."
Number One nodded. "That can easily be arranged. I'll just book one of the machine shops on Campus. Just let me know the best day and time for you."
McCoy sighed. "Stop by my office in Medical Building A, and you can pick up a portable stasis unit. I'll let Chapel know you're going to be borrowing one."
Kirk smiled brightly. "Thanks, Bones!"
Evans turned to Kirk. "Go with Commander Spock. You know what to do."
Kirk nodded and took the credit wafer from Number One before glancing up at Spock. "When is a good time for you?"
Spock thought for a moment. "Today, 1430 hours."
"Sounds good. I'll meet you at Wongs Restaurant on Sixth and Tenth." He brushed a quick kiss against the curly-haired brunette. "I'll see you later, Mia."
Spock inclined his head. "I must take my leave now, as well. It would be prudent to do some research to locate potential suppliers outside San Francisco."
McCoy grumbled. "Since I'm here, I may as well do a check-up on Pike as well."
Number One nodded. "I'll show you up." She glanced at Evans. "What about you?"
"I need to meditate for a few hours," the younger woman confessed. "Scanning Chris was stressful. The damage and trauma…" she trailed off.
"Go and meditate," Number One urged. "I'll come up and get you when dinner is ready."
"Thanks."
~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~
Later that same day, Spock debated the best way of securing information from Cadet Kirk without him being aware. They had just finished purchasing everything they could in San Francisco's Chinatown and were on their way to order Chinese take-out for themselves and the Pike household. After considering and discarding several alternatives, Spock decided to settle on the direct route.
"Mr. Kirk. May I make a personal query about your relationship with Jean Evans?"
Kirk's shoulders hunched defensively. "We're just friends, so don't you dare make any nasty insinuations about her taking advantage-"
"I do not have any questions regarding that," Spock interrupted uncharacteristically. He did not even want to consider the possibility of the Gryffindor Princess being in a relationship with the unruly human cadet.
Kirk looked confused. "Then what do you want to know?"
"You mentioned you met her in Iowa City when you were fifteen."
"Yeah."
"And you rejoined her once you achieved your majority."
"Yeah."
"And you travelled and studied with her."
"Yeah."
"What did she study?"
Blue eyes widened in comprehension. "Everything. But she was more interested in theoretical sciences and xenohistory." He looked away. "I think she actually got formal credentials as a naturopath and counsellor. From some obscure college in Japan."
"But she is not registered with any association." Kirk cocked a brow. "I checked. Jean Evans is not part of any medical or therapeutic professional organization."
Kirk shrugged. "She wouldn't be. She doesn't trust organized authority to do what is right for her. For the majority, yes. So she doesn't stay in one place long enough for anyone in the medical community to notice and make inquiries. Everyone knows her first rule is confidentiality and privacy. Anyone who breaks it is in for a really nasty streak of bad luck."
Spock considered Kirk's claims. "Vulcans do not believe in luck."
"Yeah? Maybe Vulcan's don't, but humans do. And when everything goes consistently wrong, even a non-believer turns into a believer and is very contrite." Kirk snickered. "Simon Miller's wife certainly was very contrite after her two-month-long bad hair day." Spock looked confused, so Kirk expanded. "Nicole Miller is a gossip, but Mia felt sorry for their granddaughter, so she took on the case. But when the tabloid rags came visiting, Mrs. Miller's hair dye turned her hair green, then orange before it fell out. She begged and begged, but Mia refused to undo whatever she had done. It looked like short orange fuzz for a month before it grew out and started to look half-way normal."
"There are chemicals that can create such effects," Spock allowed.
Kirk scoffed. "Yeah. But no doctor or stylist could figure it out and undo it. Nicole Miller definitely learnt her lesson. Last I heard, she could be a model for zipped lips. She doesn't gossip anymore. Actually, she still does, but not about confidential things. I think that's one of the reasons why Simon Miller was promoted to Admiral last year."
Spock frowned. "You mentioned she distrusts organizations. However, she did not display any such qualms regarding your enlistment in Starfleet."
"It's different. I'm just a run-of-the-mill human. George Kirk's son and a genius, but still human. She…isn't. Not entirely," Kirk admitted. "I think she might be a hybrid of some sort. She has some odd quirks in her DNA, but nothing alien from the Federation databases."
"Has she indicated anything about alien ancestry?" Spock wanted to know.
"Nothing concrete. Just odd little quirks." Jim flashed a smile. "You'll see it yourself. She doesn't like replicators or transporters. And I really don't know how she does it, but given time and incentive, she can destroy a starship's electrical systems. I've seen PADDs fall apart or fry when she's angry. And when she's really pissed, little lightening sparks fly from her hair."
Spock considered the information. Everything Kirk described were indications of a powerful psi talent, one strong enough to affect the physical world. But to control such power, she had to have been trained. Just where and how had she received such training in twentieth-century Earth? Or did she receive it in the twenty-third century?
"Did she say anything of her past?"
Kirk shrugged. "Not really. Sometimes she mentions people and places I've never heard of. Some guy named Harry. I think he might have been a boyfriend. And a few teachers. They had odd names: Minerva, Filius, Septima, Bathsheba, Poppy. She talked about her old school. She said it was a boarding school housed in a castle in Scotland. Every year was divided into groups called Houses that provided some structure and support for the younger students and competed against other Houses. She said she was in Gryffindor. I looked but I never found anything even remotely similar. I'm not sure how much is real and how much she dreamed up to fill in the blanks."
Spock was silent. He was almost certain now that Jean Evans had been telling Kirk the truth. A castle in Scotland fit some of the images in the painting. And Gryffindor. Q had called her the Gryffindor Princess.
"You did not mention this to Doctor McCoy," he pointed out neutrally.
Kirk snorted. "Yeah, because he'd jump on her for being delusional." He stared at Spock. "Look, she isn't hurting anyone and has a pretty firm grip on present reality. She might have dreamt up some wild things to fill in the blanks in her past, but it isn't hurting anyone. She isn't claiming to be Archer's long lost granddaughter or the President's lovechild."
Spock nodded. "Understood." He understood far more than Kirk ever would. Jean Evans was almost certainly the time displaced woman described by Q. And given that she had confirmed her name was Hermione… Sarek had theorized her true birth name was Hermione Granger. He stilled. Sarek had to be informed of these new developments.
He pulled out his PADD and composed a message requesting a meeting with his father.
Spock was very aware of Kirk trying to read the message. He could not, as the text was in Vulcan script.
"Is that a message for Uhura?" He inquired casually.
"My father."
"Oh."
The curt response was enough to repress the usually irrepressible cadet.
Once the message was complete, Spock attached the mostly crossed-off supplies list. Sarek would have more resources to secure the more expensive and restricted items on the list. It would only help to demonstrate his sincerity, Vulcan's sincerity.
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TBC…
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