DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters are the property of Paramount Studios, Inc. The story contents are the creation and property of T'Kuht and is copyright (c) 2001 by T'Kuht. Rated G.

I Was Blind but Now I See...


Christine couldn't help but stare at Spock as she sat unseeing at her duty station. The damage done to his eyes was probably permanent, and he would be blind for the rest of his life. He had said that it was infinitely preferable to the life lived in the grips of the parasites that he'd been infected with on Deneva. Still, to be blind... She shook her head as she tried to concentrate on her task. McCoy was almost inconsolable. The fact that Spock had volunteered for the test without waiting for the results himself did not comfort the physician much. Removing the data cassette from the reader, she approached Spock, careful not to startle him. "Mr. Spock, here is the data you requested on the lab results."

"Thank you, Miss Chapel," the Vulcan intoned trying to maintain calm. Reaching out, he grasped the cassette and the nurse's hand for a moment but did not let go immediately. He could feel very strong emotions from her, ones that he had no time to allow himself to feel at that moment. She had been an excellent lab assistant and he had helped with her own experiments at times. They worked well together. But now, she emoted a sensation he was familiar with and wished he had not known. Pity, compassion, and friendship were mingled in with a deeper stronger one ... love. He pictured her face, the blonde hair, the blue eyes, the smile that always welcomed him when he saw her. Now, he'd not see them again. He felt the sadness and almost a desperate need to run and hide build up in his gut. He choked it down. The feelings from her alarmed him. He had hoped that he could be friends with her as he was with Lt. Uhura. But what he learned destroyed all hopes of that in his heart and mind. He knew that with humans when one felt love toward another, mere friendship was impossible to achieve and maintain.

He mourned the loss of a valuable friend in one corner of his mind. The rest was taken up with the problems at hand.

He was halfway through the converted voice data tape when flashes of light began to play across his eyes. Closing them and opening them again, he was making certain he was not imagining things. They occurred again. He would have to inform Dr. McCoy. This might be a sign of other problems.

"Miss Chapel?" he asked, although he knew that she had not left the room. She had remained diligently going through the various bits and pieces of information trying to glean anything else out about flying attack parasites. If the light satellites were not as effective as they had hoped, it would be necessary to have a back up plan. She seemed to be the only one who had considered this, a brilliant scientist indeed.

"Yes, Mr. Spock?"

"If you could summon Dr. McCoy... My eyes are experiencing unusual sensations," he supplied calmly. He could hear the scraping back of the lab stool and her calling for the physician over the intercom. She was at his side with a tricorder after a few seconds. He could feel her hand push lightly against his shoulder to turn the chair to look into his eyes better. "Can you see anything? Are you in pain?"

"It is a flash of light, like lightning. I am in no pain," he answered and could hear McCoy practically run into the lab table when he arrived to see what was wrong.

Within half an hour Spock's vision began to clear completely. First he could see light, then shadows, the colors, finally the fuzzy outlines of Chapel and McCoy as they peered into his face. They slowly began to focus and he was secretly never so glad to see anyone in his life. His brief taste of blindness was not a satisfactory way to live. McCoy's grin was only overshadowed by Christine's brilliant blue eyes twinkling with tears. Yes, it was almost painful to look into them now.

"You damned green blooded Vulcan! You can't even go blind without pulling out some secret weapon. But, by God I'm glad you can see," McCoy was saying wanting to thump him on the back with joy.

Spock straightened and pressed his lips together. "Indeed doctor, it is agreeable if only to eliminate the need to stay incarcerated in your infirmary of horrors."

With that he was standing and walking around. His eyes were coming back to normal, and after a little research, they discovered that his eyes were designed to shield themselves from the harsh ultra-violet rays of Vulcan's sun and the desert's reflection.

"May I return to the bridge?" Spock asked wanting to see the specifics of the satellite data.

McCoy nodded. "Might as well. I'll head up with you. Oh, I didn't get to tell you they were a success."

As they started to leave, Chapel came back into the room from the adjoining lab with an armful of tapes. "Mr. Spock, how are your eyes?" she asked with professionalism but there was something in her tone. It was warmer, more affectionate.

"They have recovered. Thank you for your diligence in the experiments," he said regarding her continued efforts.

"I'll have a report by the time my shift is over," she said.

Spock nodded and passed her to join McCoy. Yes, it was a pity. They could have continued working together so well. Now it seemed impossible.