still fixing him, always fixing him

[hypospraythis]

When he left, she had lay back down, still naked, still preoccupied with him. Her sheets smelled like him. She could still feel the touch of his skin against hers. Eventually, she'd dozed off, to violent dreams filled with pain and anger. The comm had woken her, breathing hard and worried about Spock before she even got the message that she was

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[mirrormyemotion]

Spock was tossed into a corner of his cell with a stable wound in his side, just below his left arm but to high to be his heart. He had been beaten on the bridge for being a ‘traitor.’ He knew he was framed, most likely by Sulu or that kid Chekov for what he did to him. He tried to breath but winced as his broken ribs screamed in protest. He opened his eyes at the sound of a voice, her voice…

His head was bleed and he reached up with his none broken hand to wipe away all the blood there, he couldn’t get it off so he closed that eye leaving him blind because his right eye was swollen shut. The Vulcan could hear her foot steps and he looked up.

“Christine?”

[hypospraythis]

"I'm here, Spock." Sinking to her knees, this was still not an appropriate time to cry. Christine didn't have to use the scanner, but she did, taking the information and storing it, trying to treat him as any other patient and not the man who had left her bed not too long before.

Hands shaking, she began with a hypospray for pain, then moved to work on the wound to his side. Then she continued onto his head. The two worst wounds stabilized, she leaned a bit further over him, shielding him from the sight of the security guard at the door. With the utmost care, she took his hand in both of hers and brought it to her lips. With a tender kiss to bloody knuckles, she asked, "Why did they do this to you?"

[mirrormyemotion]

The hypo worked well, his breathing evened out and he relaxed a little. Just her hands on his body made him feel better. Spock sat quickly as she closed his worst wounds, he opened his good eye and looked up at the red shirt watching him with a smirk. He’d most likely get a few new ones later but that didn’t matter right now because Christine was here, she was touching him and she was real. Her lips on his knuckles shook him out of his thoughts.

“The Captain believes me to be a traitor,” he said through bloodied teeth. “I promise you Christine I am no traitor, I was framed…” he turned away from her to spit blood out, using his good hand to wipe away what was left on his face.

[hypospraythis]

"I know," she said softly. She did. If there was such dishonesty in him, she would be able to sense it, she knew. Vulcans were not exactly known to be good liars, and Christine, especially with earlier events, was confident in how well she knew Spock. Kissing his hand again, she let it go, reaching for a cleaning gauze for his face. Holding his chin, she dabbed gently at the blood covering his face, especially concerned with getting it away from the brown eye not swollen shut.

Working slowly, to extend her time with him, she tried to focus her energy from anger and concern to love and comfort. Reaching next for the dermal - if she was here, she might as well finish working on him - she started to hum, just a low, soft lullaby to ease them both.