"She's Got A Way"
By: Ensign Ainsley Chambers; Counselor
Ensign Mason Farrell; Operations Officer

Location: USS Sulu, Auditorium
Stardate: 57908.23 01h00

***

The auditorium was largely empty at 0100. A small cluster of various-ranked personnel were sitting toward the back, chatting softly. She caught snippets of conversation about Vulcan holography and the art of stoicism, narrative structure, and other high-flown literary criticism. Then she heard the piano. Someone was noodling around on a piano.

She looked down front, and saw Mason. He was sitting at the upright that sat to one side of the stage. She'd heard that there was a real piano on board, but hadn't actually seen it. It was smallish and boxy, and generally unattractive, but Mason obviously knew how to play. He didn't seem to have noticed her yet.

She smiled as she approached; she liked watching him when he didn't know she was. He had a peaceful, unguarded look on his face as he played and she found he looked even more handsome tonight then he normally did.

The seemingly disjointed arpeggios gave way to a simple set of chords. Mason closed his eyes and began, of all things, to sing.

She's got a way about her / I don't know what it is / But I know that I can't live without her

She's got a way of pleasin' / I don't know what it is / But there doesn't have to be a reason / Anyway

It was a simple tune, but effective. Even the critics in the back row went quiet. Mason's voice, to his credit, was a decent tenor, and not unpleasant to listen to. He looked at her then, and smiled as he continued.

She's got a smile that heals me / I don't know why it is / But I have to laugh when she reveals me

She's got a way of talkin' / I don't know what it is / But it lifts me up when we are walkin' / Anywhere

She comes to me when I'm feelin' down / Inspires me without a sound / She touches me and I get turned around

She's got a way of showin' / How I make her feel / And I find the strength to keep on goin'

She's got a light around her / And everywhere she goes / A million dreams of love surround her / Everywhere

She's got a way about her / I don't know what it is / But I know that I can't live without her / Any way

The piano line ended in a simple treble chord, and he smiled a smile of deep affection.

"So how was your day?" he asked. Spotty applause came from the back of the auditorium, and he gave the group a wave, returning his attention to Ainsley quickly.

Ainsley returned his smile and said, "Wonderful! Though my head's feeling a little bigger this evening after all those compliments!"

"Deserved," Mason said, standing from the bench. "Every bit." He met her in front of the stage, and indicated a seat in the front row. "Please," he said.

She looked at him with amused skepticism. "What is this?" She sat down in the seat anyway.

"Nothing," Mason said, showing Ainsley his hands, which were empty. "Well," he said, snapping his fingers and flicking his wrist slightly, "maybe a little something." He held out one hand, now occupied by a narrow silver ribbon.

"What is that?" Ainsley asked, admiring the silver colour. She realized that he was offering it to her so she reached out and took it. It looked like a cloth ribbon but weighed much more then she thought it should. "It's kinda heavy, what is it?"

"This is Lyran steelcloth. It's a microfine metal mesh, delicate and beautiful like silk, but far stronger than it looks. A good deal like the woman I'd like to see wear it."

"It's beautiful." She held it up and admired the silver colour again. "What do you want me to do with it?"

Mason squatted in front of her. "Let's have your ankle."

Ainsley smiled and lifted her foot so that Mason could get at her ankle. As she did so she remembered Doctor Sean O'Shea, who had taken a look at her ankle in the gym to see why an old injury was still bothering her every now and then. She smiled as she thought of her old friend, wondering what had become of him.

"Where did you get this ribbon?" she asked.

"Risa," he said, working her boot off.

"You picked up a lot of stuff on Risa, eh?" she said. He just smiled.

Mason slipped her sock off and as he did he lightly tickled the arch of her foot. Ainsley yelped and pulled her foot away from him. "Be nice!"

He chuckled and draped the ribbon of steelcoth over her ankle. "I have it on good authority that the Lyrans all wear a piece of steelcloth somewhere. They say it helps focus their aura or somesuch." He snugged it gently and fastened the clasp. "Me, I just thought your ankle could use an ornament. And, of course, it gives me an excuse to touch you in public," he finished with a mischievous wink.

Ainsley grinned at him. "Well thank you. Is it actually steel? Will it rust if I wear it in the bath, or when I go swimming?"

"No," Mason shook his head nonchalantly. "The word translates as Steel, but the material is actually a titanium and platinum alloy, spun fine as silk."

"It's beautiful," she responded, looking down at her ankle and bobbing her foot up and down slightly. "Now that it's on my ankle it barely has any weight to it."

"Just enough to remind you of me," he said, rubbing her foot absently.

"Can you put my boot back on for me?" she asked.

"Oh! Yeah," Mason said, snapping out of his touching-Ainsley reverie. "Sorry. Got lost in the moment, there," he grinned and started on her sock.

She felt tingles run up her leg as Mason's fingers came into contact with her bare ankle. She shivered slightly. "Mason..." she said softly, and reached down for her boot. "Let me do it."

He chuckled at himself and let go, but stayed squatted in front of her, watching her pull her boot back on. "Walk you back?" he asked as she finished.

Ainsley put her foot back on the floor and nodded. "Sure," she said and got to her feet. "What have you been up to all day?"

"Repairs," Mason sighed. "We're not in imminent danger anymore, but the ship's still a mess. Every system on board needs full diagnostics and thorough examinations. It's like another shakedown cruise, except we've only got a week. What about you? How's counseling after something like this?"

"To be honest, and with absolutely no pun intended, it's crazy," she answered. "A lot of people need to talk."

"I can understand," Mason said as they walked out of the auditorium and into the slightly dimmed gamma shift corridor.

She looked at him as they walked. He seemed to not be as talkative as normal, that usually meant something was up. She took his hand. "Whatcha thinking?"

He half-smiled. "You always seem to know," he murmured. "Do--" he sucked his teeth a moment, "do I complain too much?"

She looked at him with a look of confusion on her face. "What do you mean?"

"Do I complain too much? Like that discussion over the milkshakes. Was I too down on everything?"

Ainsley thought back to the discussion. "None of us were in top form that day, we all seemed to do a lot of complaining." She still felt bad that she had talked about Bree to other officers. "But I don't think you complain all that often."

Mason thought on that as they reached the turbolift. "Thank you," he said simply.

"You're welcome," she responded. "That's it? Usually you're a little harder to convince."

"Well," he smiled. "I'm still not totally convinced, but I've got your opinion. And I value it. I just have to think a bit. Sort some stuff out." They entered the liftcar.

"Oh, wow," Mason said slowly.

"What?" Ainlsey asked, looking around to see what he was wowing about.

"This is an omen."

"An omen?" she asked, even more confused then she had been.

"This is the Lucky Car," Mason explained. "Davies and I were talking about this earlier. This car is the one where everyone kisses, and--" he cut himself off, glancing at her sideways, "--suchlike."

"Suchlike?" Ainsley asked innocently, but then flashed him a sly grin. "What are you getting at, Farrell?"

Mason did not answer. At least, not verbally.

When lack of oxygen forced them to come up for air they parted slightly. "Oh, wow!" Ainsley breathed, echoing his earlier words as he held her in his arms. "So this is the lucky car."

"Yes, ma'am," he breathed. They were headed for a second round when the doors opened at their destination. "But I guess everyone's luck runs out sometime," he added, looking out into the corridor.

Ainsley sighed. "Yeah." They disentangled themselves from each other's arms and she took his hand as they walked down to her door. "Wanna come in?" she asked, looking up at him and indicating the door with a slight tip of her head.

"Oh yes," Mason said, "but do you need sleep? It's late, and you've got another crazy shift ahead of you, I imagine."

She nodded. "I do, but I'd rather spend it with you."

"Your shift?" he asked with a smirk.

"Tonight," she responded. "Instead of sleeping."

Farrell blinked and thought. For about a half a second. "Lead on," he quipped.

He followed her into the shared living room, Ai'Pal's door closed. The Vulcan would surely be sleeping by now. Mason caught her lightly around the middle as they were halfway through the room. Sweeping her hair to one side, he kissed the nape of her neck gently.

Ainsley giggled softly as his lips grazed her skin. She turned in his arms and kissed him, wrapping her arms around his neck. They kissed and nibbled and caressed their way to the couch, growing more intense as they sank onto the cushions.

Not much thought was taking place, other than thoughts of where hands were going and what feelings they were eliciting. Ainsley unzipped the jacket of Mason's uniform and then struggled to push it off his shoulders. He let her work it off of him without breaking their kiss, and then returned the favor, her own uniform jacket quickly shucked to the floor. Undertunics were loosened, and shirttails came loose, and she shuddered as a hand found the bare skin of her back. She threw a leg over his lap and straddled him, feeling the hooks of her bra come apart at his touch, his other hand sliding up the back of her thigh.

She was suddenly very conscious of her clothing and how restricting it was. She pushed away from Mason a little so that she could get at the zipper of her tunic; she needed to get it off of her. As she fumbled for the small zipper she glanced at Ai'Pal's door and realized they weren't really alone. "Come on." She indicated the door to her bedroom, swinging out of his lap.

She was through the door in a flash, Mason following, stopping only to grab up their dropped jackets. He tossed them to one side, and she threw herself into his arms again, her tunic open. He crushed her to him, their kiss deepening.

She shrugged out of her tunic and let it drop to the floor. Then she twisted away from him and dropped her bra as well. As she stood with her back to Mason, completely nude from the waist up, she began to get nervous. She hadn't been nervous at all until this point, but suddenly she couldn't turn around to face him. This wasn't quite what she had expected when she asked him in, it wasn't that she didn't want to, it was just that it was a little different then she had hoped for.

But then when did fantasies ever come true? She took a deep breath and turned around.

Mason, who had apparently torn out of his own tunic while her back was turned, simply stared. "Beautiful," Mason whispered, looking from her face to her breasts, and back again. "You," he reached to cup her cheek softly, "are so beautiful."

She placed her hands on his chest and then leaned in and feathered some light kisses along his collar bone. He encircled her with his arms again, the warmth of their bodies blending. She trailed her hands down his torso, grazing her finger tips across his abdomen. "Mason," she breathed. Needing to warn him but unable to look up into his eyes she rested her forehead against his chest and placed a few more kisses on his skin before continuing. "I've," she began, "I've never done this before."

"Never done what before?" he asked absently, nuzzling her ear.

"This," she responded. Her head foggy from his nearness and his caresses she had to force herself to think so that she could remember what she was saying. "Any of it. I'm a virgin, Mason."

Mason froze, soaking that in. Keeping his arms around her waist, he leaned back slightly so he could see her face. He stared at her without actually seeing her for several excruciating seconds. He was stunned, his mouth half open, his eyes a little wider than normal.

"Uh," he said at last, breaking the silence but doing nothing to change his expression. "Okay," he added slowly and noncomittally.

"I, ah," she said slowly, confused by his reaction. "Just wanted you to know. I don't want to stop..." She trailed off though, knowing that the mood was completely changed.

Mason looked at her for another long time that probably wasn't, but certainly felt like it. "I'm. . .well. . . this is a surprise." When she didn't answer, he added. "Sit with me a minute."

She let him sit down on the bed with her. She sat there feeling uncomfortable with her nakedness. She crossed her arms across her chest for a moment, trying to cover herself up and then felt ridiculous after everything they had just done. She put her arms down beside her again. Mason cocked one leg up onto the bed so he could face her, and she did likewise, not knowing what else to do.

"Can I ask you a very personal question?" he asked gently, taking her hand. "And you'll tell me the god-honest truth?"

Ainsley nodded. "Of course."

"Are you sure this is the way you want it?"

"How do you mean?" Ainsley asked, still feeling out of sorts.

Mason hesitated a moment, and touched her cheek with his free hand. "Is this the way you want your first time to be?" he asked very tenderly, adding, "a night that got too heavy? I won't lie, Ainsley--it's taking all I've got to just sit here when you're there, like that," he looked at her breasts again, then forced his eyes back to her face, "but I don't think I'd forgive myself if I--" He looked down a moment, then deep into her eyes. "I care for you, Ainsley. I do. And I don't want to mess this up. So be honest. With me, and with yourself. Is this what you want tonight?" His eyes told her the decision was hers.

She looked down at where he was gently holding her hand. Who would have thought that Mason would be the one to talk sense in this situation? What happened to his reputation? She smiled slightly at that and then shook her head. "No," she responded, when she allowed herself to think clearly this wasn't the way she wanted it to go.

He glanced at the floor, and picked up a discarded jacket. "Let's back up a little bit," he murmured, offering it to her.

She took the jacket gratefully and slipped into it. She zipped it up and then looked at Mason. "Thank you."

"You all right?" he took her hand again.

She nodded. "I'll be fine. It's just," she shrugged, "I would have done it. I never thought, in this circumstance, that you would be the one to take a step back and talk sense into me. I've always been very level headed about sex."

Mason smiled and looked down to scratch his temple a moment. "I was 14," he said, looking back at her and smiling gently, "it was a night that got too heavy, and it was very fast, and it was very clumsy, and it was memorable only because it was the first time. And looking back, I'd give just about anything to be able to remember it differently."

"I'm 28, sometimes I just think I want to get it over with," she replied.

Mason took her other hand as well and looked deeply into her eyes. "Speaking solely for myself, and without considering any factors beyond our presence here in your bedroom, I'd happily rip your clothes off right now," he smiled. She returned his smile. "Going solely off my own experience, though, I think we'd both regret it in the morning."

Ainsley nodded. "You're right. I know you're right. And I will be fine." She smiled at him again.

"Thank you," he breathed.

She cocked her head slightly to the side. "For what?"

"For smiling."

She squeezed his hands lightly, not really sure what to say to that. "I thank you for being so sensitive to my wants and needs, even when I'm not."

They just looked at each other for a while, enjoying each other's company. Mason finally broke the silence. "As much as part of me wants desperately to stay, I reckon I should go."

"I should get to sleep. I do need to work in the morning." She swung her legs off the bed and got to her feet. "You're going to need your jacket."

"True," Mason said, staying where he was for the moment, then smiling slyly. "Pity you're wearing it."

She looked down at the jacket she had on. "No wonder it's so roomy!"

She looked up at him, feeling self conscious about taking the jacket off. She grinned shyly. "Uhhh..."

He didn't fully comprehend her meaning for a moment. Then, with an "oh" and a smile, he dutifully turned his head and looked elsewhere.

"Hey, you still have the beanbag," he remarked, pointing to the corner as the zipper of his jacket gave its whispering hiss again and he tried very hard not to look.

Ainsley shrugged out of his jacket. "Of course I still have it. It was a gift that you gave me," she answered. She pulled on a sweater that was sitting on the end of her bed and then walked around the bed to where Mason was sitting and sat down beside him. "Here you go."

"I don't know what's sexier," Mason jibed as he stood and climbed quickly into his tunic, tucking it in with the skill born of many high-speed donnings. "Seeing you half-naked, or knowing you're getting that way without being able to look."

Ainsley grinned. "I know it seems silly to make you turn around, but," she shrugged.

"Hey, I understand," he said, shrugging into his jacket and fitting the zipper ends together. "Thank you for coming to the auditorium tonight."

"You're welcome, I had a good time. It was wonderful to see and hear you sing like that."

"That's awfully kind of you to say," Mason said, "it's not something I do for just anybody, you know. But for the moment," he snugged his jacket zipper to his preferred height, "I've got a hot date with a cold shower."

Ainsley laughed softly. "Well let me give you one more reason for that shower." Leaning over, she put her hand on his cheek and kissed him thoroughly.

He stood there with his eyes closed when they finished, shaking his head. "Shower nothing. That's cold." He chuckled, opened his eyes, and started backing for the door. "I better get out of here before we start this whole cycle again."

"I'll dream of you," she replied as she watched him back away. Once the door closed between them she sighed and sunk down onto her bed, feeling suddenly contented, if in need of a cold shower herself.

---

"Back From The Dead"
By: Ensign Shirik Lektar, Operations
Crewman Sorg Jurell, Security

Location: Sorg's quarters, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57908.23, 06h09

***

Shirik was a woman on a mission. Once she'd left sickbay, she stopped by her quarters just long enough to change into clean clothes before heading off to the quarters of Sorg Jurell.

She hadn't seen or heard from him in three days; he'd never answered her text messages. Casey hadn't been any more helpful or forthcoming than he had the first morning he appeared in sickbay, so she was taking matters into her own hands. She needed to find out what was wrong with Sorg, or why he seemed to no longer want anything to do with her.

She'd gone over it in her head for the last three days, but couldn't think of anything she'd said or done that could have offended him or angered him. Maybe she'd scared him? She didn't know what it was, but she wanted to find out, and she had the feeling that if she didn't hunt him down first, he'd try to avoid her. She was fairly certain he didn't know she wasn't still in sickbay, so she had the element of surprise on her side.

She moved down the hallway slowly. Her lungs had just started actually breathing again the day before, and each breath caused a knot of pain in her chest. Her breathing was slow, and carried a faint wheeze which should only be temporary, until her lungs grew stronger. Her legs ached, unused to walking for several days. She'd lost weight during her stay in sickbay, since her only nourishment had been through liquid feeding tubes. She probably appeared to the casual observer to be weak and ill, but she hadn't felt this good in days.

Finally she came to a halt outside his door. She painfully straightened her back, and tugged at the hem of her black sweater before reaching for the chime. She wasn't sure what sort of reaction she'd get from him when he saw who it was, so she was a bit nervous.

The sound of the chime surprised Jurell. He rolled over and fought his way into consciousness long enough to determine that his roommate, Rinaro, was already gone. He'd over-slept. He had a hangover and his mouth tasted like stale vomit. The drinking session rushed back into his memory, at least the first couple hours of it did. He'd tried valiantly to drink himself into a stupor and had achieved a rare degree of success. As a consequence he couldn't remember how he had gotten back to quarters, perhaps Rinaro had dragged him back. The chime had sounded.

He clawed out of the tangled sheets of his single bunk and grabbed his robe. He'd have to have some coffee and a pick-me-up before he was supposed to be on duty at 0800hrs. Slipping the Starfleet issue robe on he padded through to the living area. "Computer who's at the door?" It was a prudent question, he felt awful and he was sure he didn't look any better either.

"Ensign Shirik Lektar is currently requesting admission into your quarters." The computer's female voice sounded smug, or perhaps that was just his imagination. The words drilled through his consciousness like a hammer and a blunt chisel; one heartbeat at a time. He stood in total indecision in the middle of his living room with a sense of rising relief and sheer panic.

The fact that she was outside meant she wasn't in sickbay. Thusly she was recovering. That meant she wasn't dying. His relief was a cold shower to his hang-over. If she was standing outside it meant that she was looking for him. He'd ignored her messages for three whole days. It had been a pity kiss. The words in his mind reinforced his resolution to stay away from her. But still, she was outside and he knew her enough to know that he couldn't hide. She'd hunt him down and probably maim him for ignoring her. Oh Prophets....

She frowned as she waited. Maybe he was asleep, and hadn't heard the chime. She reached to ring it again. Sooner or later he had to come out, he had duty. If she had to wait until 0800, she would. She stubbornly folded her arms. If she did have to wait until 0800, he'd be sorry.

Sorg Jurell was between a rock and a hard place. He had to open his door. She was an Ensign and he was a Crewman and she was a Princess and he was nothing, and she was Shirik...and he was falling helplessly in love with her and he couldn't watch her die. But she wasn't dying now. But she loved T'Kal and had no place for Sorg Jurell. Even the Vulcan had a special place in her heart, he was just the idiot who watched over her. Watched as she pined away for a man she couldn't have. Watched as she got involved with a Vulcan who would never be able to give her what she needed. Watched while she lay helpless and dying and suffering because Sorg Jurell had saved her. He stood immobile in the middle of his living room hearing the chime again and feeling too damned gutless to face her.Just go away...please go away.

She frowned, and rang the chime yet a third time. He must be ignoring her. "Sorg Jurell," she called. "You had better be dying in there if you don't open this door. Should I call for a medical team? Or a security detail?"

Her voice through the door had the sharpness of command, yet it was also breathless. He couldn't stand it any longer and he called for the door to be opened. As it slid aside she saw him, disheveled, dressed in a robe and unshaven. His hair was thankfully short and though tousled, it wasn't unruly. His blue eyes locked on hers, his hands thrust into the pockets on the robe, he just stood there.

She knew that would get the door opened. She stepped inside and stood just inside the doorway, blinking at his appearance. "Are you ill?" she asked. He certainly looked like he could be, and if that was the case, she wasn't about to bother him. Although not quite herself, she didn't appear unkempt or disheveled, just tired and confused.

"Yeah...I'm sick." His voice was thick. Seeing her standing with that usual fire in her eyes made his heart soar and his pulse quicken, but still his shoulders slumped. He looked completely as lost as he felt. He had no idea what to do now. The surge of bravado that had struck him at her biobed was long gone.

"Have you been to sickbay?" she was concerned now, everything else melting away as irrelevant. "How long have you been sick? For the last three days?" She took a step closer, peering at him, trying to see if he looked feverish.

Her concern broke through his mental inability to cope with the situation. He smiled a little self-consciously as his eyes drifted to his bare feet. "I've got a hangover, Shirik...a very...nasty...self inflicted hangover. I'm sorry."

She frowned slightly, not understanding. "You've had a hangover for three days? Why were you drinking? What's wrong?" She took another step closer, since what he had wasn't contagious.

"No." He looked up and shrugged. "I've just been...ignoring you."

She folded her arms once more. "So I noticed. Why?"

He turned away and made his way to the sofa, dropping into it heavily. He stared out of the view port before summoning up his courage before it fully fled the scene screaming. "Because I couldn't bear to see you...like that...anymore." He couldn't look at her.

The sofa looked very inviting. Just the walk here had sapped her energy, and so she followed him to sit and rest. "Dying, you mean?" she frowned. "You abandoned me when I was dying?" She didn't want to believe that. He was supposed to be her friend, and if she had died, she'd have done it alone, or in the company of that obnoxious Casey. "Why? I thought you were my friend..."

"I couldn't stand it...I couldn't bear it." He covered his face in his hands and then looked at her. "I couldn't watch you suffer any more...please understand that. Watching you every day...seeing you as you were in my mind...so beautiful...and watching you die. I just couldn't. It would have killed me."

"So you left me to die in the company of that...idiot, Casey?" she scowled. "Obviously, I didn't die." She made a move to stand once more, but dizziness changed her mind and she sat back down. She'd leave when the room stopped spinning.

"I'm in love with you." The words came out on their own...quiet. Dropped like a small pebble in the pond between them.

She blinked, then stared at him. She didn't say anything for a time, then finally she said, "That's not possible... You barely even know me."

He nodded. "Okay." He didn't want to argue with her. It wasn't worth it.

"Jurell... please, talk to me," she said, watching him. "I'm trying to understand all this... If you feel that way towards me, why did you leave? Why were you willing to let me die alone? Or worse, with Casey as my company." She paused, thinking back to the last time she saw him. "This started when we kissed...didn't it? Is that what made you run away?"

"Run away?" he looked at her in amazement. "I just told you, Shirik. Is it so hard for you to accept that someone who has developed feelings for you would find it impossible to stand there and watch you."

"You had no hope I would live?" she asked. "You didn't even ask Dr. Sefton if the therapy had been successful, did you? You wrote me off." That thought pained her more than the fact that he'd left, and it showed in her eyes. He never even tried to find out if she would live, he just assumed she'd die.

"I thought...Casey told me...he said...."

Her eyes widened. "What did he say?" If that jerk had told Sorg she'd died....

Sorg looked at her and shook his head. "He said that you were still...fading away. The bastard...."

This time she did struggle up to her feet, her eyes flashing dangerously, the adrenaline of her anger giving her strength. "That's it. I put up with that khruth for three days, and if I ever see his face again, I swear I will rip his tongue out so he'll never tell another lie."

Sorg reached for her arm and pulled her around. "No, Shirik...he didn't say in so many words, he just led me to believe it," he shook his head. "He didn't lie. He just didn't tell the truth." He closed his eyes for a moment, internally cursing the officer who had made him believe that he was doing him a favor. "I'm sorry, Shirik. It still doesn't excuse what I did."

"In this case, it matters little," she said. She sank down beside him on the sofa once more. "What's important now is that I'm not dead. The therapy was successful, I grew new lungs, and in a few days I'll be back to my old self. But what I want to know is... Are we still friends?"

He laughed. "By The Prophets, Shirik...of course." He shrugged. "I know we'll never be anything but friends."

She looked over at him and reached to take one of his hands in hers. "You don't know that, Sorg. But let's start there, all right?"

He looked at her black skinned hand in his and then up at her. "I'll try." He gave her a lopsided grin. "I really need to get cleaned up." Want to take a shower...? "You should go."

She gave him a warm smile and squeezed his hand. "Yes... I do need to get some rest. But there's something else I need to talk to you about before I go. When I collapsed in the turbolift, I had my kemla with me, but when I awoke in sickbay, it was gone. Dr. Sefton doesn't know where it is. Do you?"

"I have no idea." He shook his head. "I wasn't thinking about that kind of thing at the time." He grinned. "Can't you replicate another?"

Her look was almost horrified. "Replicate a kemla? Do you have any idea what a kemla is?"

"A knife?" His look was entirely innocent.

She rolled her eyes. "It's much more than that. Each kemla is hand-crafted uniquely for its owner. Each one is inscribed with symbols describing its House and owner, and is custom-made to reflect the status and personality of its owner. My kemla was made by the best bladesmith on Drokar, and only he could ever hope to make another anything like it." She frowned, looking down at her feet. "For me to return home without it would be to dishonor myself, and my House."

"I'm sure no one stole it," he grinned. "I wonder if Sikara's using it?"

She shot him a glare that could pierce titanium. "It's rumored that you work for security," she said. "I thought you could help me find it. But if you didn't see it, one of the nurses must have taken it." She got to her feet once more, releasing Sorg's hand. "So, I'll have to head back to sickbay. I'll need to face Dr. Sefton's wrath anyway..."

"Hang on." He climbed to his feet. "I was only teasing, okay? I'll check out the armory when I get on duty, okay? Standard procedure for any weapon is for it to be checked into the armory for safe-keeping. Let me get a shower. Why will Sefton be angry at you?"

She nodded, relaxing a little. "I didn't exactly have permission to leave sickbay yet... But I was not going to spent another moment with that smirking idiot Casey. I wanted to find out if you were ok... Maybe if I'm lucky I can sneak back in before they come on duty."

"I don't think so." He smirked. "She's a telepath. I bet she knows you're not there already!"

She groaned. Of course. She'd forgotten about that. "Well, at least maybe she'll understand why I snuck out. Especially if she gets within 10 feet of Casey. Maybe she'll have him removed from sickbay, that would be a relief."

"You snuck out to find a knife. You think she won't pick up on that?"

She glared at him once more. "I did not sneak out for the damn knife, I snuck out to find you." Thick-headed male, she thought, and headed for the door.

"I'm glad you did," he said to her back. "Remember, you still owe me dinner."

She paused before the doorway to turn back and repeat the words she'd mouthed against his lips. "I haven't forgotten." She considered when, and thought it best to give him time to recover from his hangover, and her time for her lungs to get stronger. "Tomorrow evening?"

"Eighteen hundred hours. I'll book a holodeck. Wear a dress." He grinned, some of the courage back in his eyes.

She grinned. "Aye, sir," she teased, and slipped out the door.

"Prophets..." he breathed. He thought of what Casey had said and he swore. "You'll pay for that you son of a bitch."

---

"Along The Edge Of The Blade"
By: Ensign Shirik Lektar, Operations
Dr. Damhnait Sefton, Chief Medical Officer

Location: Sickbay, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57908.23, 07h00

***

The walk to Sorg's quarters and back had taken a lot out of her, and she paused in the hallway outside sickbay to rest. She didn't want to go back inside looking ready to collapse. She took slow, steady breaths, composed her features, and slipped inside. With luck, Dr. Sefton and Ensign Casey wouldn't have arrived yet for shift, and she could slip in as quietly as she'd slipped out.

"Are you trying to kill yourself?" Doctor Sefton stridently demanded. Under the dimmed lights of Sickbay, Damhnait stood, ever so slightly leaning against the doorframe to her office, with her arms tightly crossed in front of her. "I'm sure a clever girl such as yourself could manage, with more ease than this, to break into medical storage and steal yourself a fatal drug or two."

Shirik winced inwardly. Busted. "No," she said calmly. "Just went for a little walk. I'm back now, no harm done."

"This is not a resort. This is your prison. Your lungs may technically work; we may have taken down the quarantine forcefield sealing your room, but that does not mean you are ready to leave Sickbay. Every minor exertion you give yourself now will only exponentially extend the time it takes your lungs to fully recover," Sefton reminded her harshly.

"I know, I know... I was very careful, really. I just... I had to take care of something personal. It couldn't wait."

"How will you take care of anything personal if you do not have your health?" Damhnait asked, her incredulous rage growing softer.

"I did come back... I was just heading back to bed. To rest."

"Your actions now are immaterial to your decision to leave in the first place, just as Skott Anders' quick contacting me is immaterial to him not having noticed you leave Sickbay in the first place," Damhnait stated flatly, her anger dropping off. "Nurse Anders will show you to a bed here in the main ward. Virus free, you have no need for isolation, and I suspect an eye will have to be kept on you. Skott will be the only nurse attending to you for the rest of Gamma and Alpha, even though not allowing him his off-shift might make him grumpy."

"Yes, sir..." she said. She knew the doctor was right, so she wouldn't argue.

"Would you like bed nineteen?" the blond Nurse Anders offered Shirik unenthusiastically. Bed nineteen just happened to be across Sickbay, away from the CMO's office. Before she responded, he began to silently lead Shirik towards it.

"Would you happen to know where crewman Taylforth is?" she asked as she followed the nurse.

A vast number of biting responses came to Skott's mind, but he was only a little bit taller than Shirik, and though he was tightly muscled, she was rumoured to be quite the fighter. Plus, snark wouldn't be proper. After the slightly awkward amount of time it took for them to step up to the intended bed, Skott precisely asked, "Computer, please locate Tynann Taylforth."

"Tynann Taylforth is located in his quarters," was the computer's response.

Suddenly cringing, Skott turned to Shirik to softly ask, "You don't have to take care of another out-of-Sickbay personal matter, do you?"

Shirik didn't answer right away, seemingly considering whether to go or stay for a long moment, letting the nurse squirm. "Oh, I think I can take care of this matter without a trip," she finally said, and moved to seat herself on the bed.

Nodding briefly, Anders asked, "Do you require anything?"

"Not at the moment," she said, taking PADD in hand.

His duty complete, for the moment, Skott strode away, without announcement or comment, in search of strong coffee.

Shirik watched him go out of the corner of her eye, then sent off a message to see if Taylforth was awake.

Tynann's text response came a minute later: Are you okay? Are you unable to talk?

She smiled a bit to herself. I'm fine. I wanted to know if you know where my kemla was put when I was brought into sickbay?

After another minute: A storage locker was allocated to you in Sickbay. Inventory logs say Emma Summers claimed the blade.

She frowned. Her blade had gone from hand to hand. Thank you. She would rest for a bit, and track it down later, after she was released.

---

"Tough Break"
Ensign Raina Derrell, Medical Officer
Ensign Vincent Chan, Science Officer

Location: Sickbay, USS Sulu
Stardate 57908.23, 08h19

***

Vincent was annoyed. He hated being told what to do. Emma had talked him into getting his shoulder looked at by a medical officer. He had suffered similar injuries in the past, although they were the result of sports, not running straight into a steel door. But he simply did not want to be a hassle and cause a fuss over such a little thing. It did hurt though...

He walked into the busy scene of sickbay as soon as he finished his Gamma shift. It was five minutes into Alpha, but already sickbay was a busy scene. Most were injuries carried from the recent infestation, and Vincent saw numerous bone breakages and the like. Emma had assured him that his injury was a small one and did not require much attention. He decided to get it over with.

He approached a nearby medical officer that didn't look too busy. He tapped the woman on the shoulder. She spun around. "Hey," he said, giving her one of his most charming smiles. "If you've got a minute, I think I've got a fractured collarbone here."

Raina looked up from her duties as she quickly searched for a medical tricorder. "Certainly looks that way. I can honestly say this will be more irritating to you and more uncomfortable than the time required for me to heal it." She smiled, gesturing towards an empty bed. "Let's get that taken care of."

Vincent sat on the bed. Emma had already taken a look at it and scanned it with her own tricorder, so Vincent knew what to expect. Vincent winced for the thousandth time that day as he put even the slightest pressure onto his left side. He jerked up from the bed, nearly knocking the tricorder out of the Medical officer's hands.

"Sorry, Doc," he said, rubbing his collar. He gave another one of his smiles. "Is it really that bad?"

For a moment or two Raina considered how to answer his question. Not because she was afraid of how he'd react but more how to explain the situation in general. Collarbones were one of those more complicated areas of the body. "Medically speaking, yeah you did a pretty good job with this one. However it is totally fixable. The problem with a bone like your collarbone is that its in a place which sees a lot of movement, no matter what you are doing, so it's going to hurt and that makes it tricky to heal exactly right. Don't worry this is one injury I've seen quite a lot of. I can give you something for the pain if you'd like?"

"No thanks," Vincent said, shaking his head. Though he could never be called a stoic, Vincent knew he could take care of himself and handle the pain reasonably well on his own. He wanted to know more about the procedures for fixing it. "What are you going to do about it, doc?"

Raina could accept his comment. "I can respect that, just had to ask since it can help with the residual swelling an pain. As for fixing it..." Her smile turned into something starting to resemble a laugh. "Not much more sophisticated than old times. We manipulate the bones so they are properly realigned then knit them in place. The last part is what's advanced, the first part hasn't changed at all."

"Thanks, Doc," Vincent said, smiling. Then after thinking of it, he offered his hand to her. "I'm Vincent Chan by the way..."

She shook his had with her free hand as she placed the tricorder back on the table. "Raina Derrell. When you're ready I'm going to manipulate the bones back into place. I really don't like to just surprise people with that one."

Preparing himself both mentally and physically for any pain he might experience, he nodded to Raina and said, "Go for it."

"I'm going to need you to hold very still. Here we go." Raina very carefully but quickly realigned his broken collar bone. Making it stay in place while a nurse handed her the bone knitter. She ran the instrument over his shoulder until she was completely satisfied with the result. "There's going to be some residual swelling, perhaps a bit sore for a couple of days, maybe as long as a week. So take it easy. If you feel it isn't getting better or gets worse, please come and see me."

"Thanks, Raina," Vincent said, rotating his shoulder slowly. Satisfied with the level of movement he said, "I really appreciate it. If you ever need anything... Or if you want to grab a coffee sometime... Let me know ok?"

She nodded. "I will do that. That's certainly a better reason to visit than being injured."

"It sure is, ain't it?" Vincent gave her grin and departed, leaving Raina to continue with her other work.

---

"Whatever It Takes"
By: Lt. Commander Benedict T'Kal - Chief of Security
Lt. Brennyn Scott - Chief Counselor

Location: Scott's Office, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57908.23, 11h02

***

The encounter with Counselor F'Zal had been unnerving on many levels. The man had simply come up to him, smiled and asked him why he wanted Commander Lyrr to see a counselor! It had taken every ounce of self control not to show any outward sign of surprise, even though his mind had been reeling, and F'Zal was a telepath! Benedict had politely refuted any suggestion that he had wanted anything of the sort and asked him why he had brought it up. F'Zal had said that Commander Lyrr had indicated to him that Ben had wanted her to see him and that she was now classified as "unfit for duty" until the assessment could be completed. He'd told Benedict that Lyrr would be seeing Brennyn Scott.

Benedict T'Kal remembered the smile across the table of the senior officer's dinner that Counselor Scott had bestowed upon him that had raised the ire of Lyrr Tayla. Showing her how to use her chopsticks had been purely innocent, but Tayla had seen more into it and apparently had warned the woman not to enter into a personal relationship with Ben. Looking back it seemed comic - but bringing it to mind raised other issues with Ben. Tayla would not see his excursions with Shirik in the holodeck as innocent. In some ways, neither did he.

He walked down the corridor and stopped beside her door. He'd checked her schedule and she didn't have any patients at the moment, and instead of requesting time and getting his name mentioned in the counselors scheduler and case files, he decided to just drop in unannounced. He pressed the chime.

The door slid open to reveal a momentarily confused and surprised Bree Scott. "Ben! You don't happen to come bearing a roast beef sandwich on wheat, do you?" she asked suspiciously. When he managed to look appropriately befuddled, her face broke into a grin and she waved him inside. When the doors closed behind him, she explained, "Sikara offered to bring me lunch from the Lounge."

"Sorry, no sandwich." He gave her a smile as he stepped inside her office.

"Please, make yourself at home." When he took a seat, she asked, "So, what can I do you for?" She leaned casually against her desk, hands folded.

"I wanted to talk about a couple things," he said as he sat back. His eyes were direct and inscrutable; serious. "I need someone to talk to." He'd already decided that if they were going to talk to Tayla anyway - it was better that they understood some facts - and more so about himself.

"What a coincidence," she replied, "I need someone to listen to."

"You know that I'm in a relationship with Lyrr Tayla?" he asked. "We're officially sharing quarters."

Bree nodded, taking the opportunity to seat herself opposite Ben. She was surprised to hear they were living together officially, but knew they had been seeing one another romantically. "Sounds like things are progressing nicely."

He smiled and a hint of his affection for the Sulu's XO played in his eyes. "She's an amazing woman," he said. He looked across the desk at Scott. "The last time we talked I didn't really 'talk' did I?" He chuckled softly to himself. "I was a little defensive...I'm sorry." He looked her square in the eyes as he gave her an apology. "You didn't deserve that."

Scott smiled wryly and shrugged. "I find what goes on in here," and she gestured to her surroundings, "often has very little to do with what I want or deserve... But I can take it, " she added, eyes sparkling, "although I do appreciate the concern. Are you ready to talk now?"

"I guess I am," he smiled and reached out a hand to steal an orange jelly bean from a small glass bowl on her desk. It was full of brightly colored beans and he popped it into his mouth and tasted mandarin. He sighed thinking about where he wanted to start, and decided that it was best to begin where all stories started - in the beginning. "I used to serve on the USS Galaxy," he said, looking up at Scott. "I was a tactical officer and I met a half Romulan girl by the name of Tebrianne Bancroft. She was a helm officer and to cut a long story short we fell in love and I asked her to marry me and she accepted. Being Romulan she and I shared mind melds - we were extremely close." He looked at Scott and his violet eyes still showed a deep pain. "I've never loved anyone as I loved her - we shared minds and memories. I can still see things through her eyes, remember things that she did as if it was me. I can still feel how she felt about me. I can't explain it any better than that - we were one. I never thought I'd meet anyone I would feel that way with again.

"I was friends with a woman called Cathy, only she was a psycho. She was in love with me and couldn't face the fact that I was with Tebrianne. She decided to do something about it and injected me with a nanotechnology device based on Khatarian technology and Borg nanoprobes. Cathy was a science officer on the Galaxy, she was a genetics specialist and medical technician. I have no idea how or where she managed to get the device she used on me. It worked to alter my memories - directly substituting images and memory until I was convinced that the memories I had of Tebrianne were really Cathy. I was convinced I was in a relationship with Cathy rather than Teb. I broke Teb's heart - she couldn't understand why I suddenly didn't want any part of her - but I still couldn't comprehend the memories I had of Cathy - they seemed wrong - out of place and instead of being with Catherine I turned away from them both. It only made Catherine more desperate...she used more memory alterations and tried to make me believe I was really with her and had been for a long time. She drugged me one night and stole some genetic material." His features grimaced. The memory of it was still distasteful.

"She used her genetic skills and impregnated herself. She must have thought that having my child would prove to me that we were in a relationship. She even used the Chief Medical Officer of the Galaxy to do a DNA scan of the child to show that it was mine. No one was in any doubt that Catherine and I were in a relationship after that - only it still felt wrong. I loved Tebrianne and couldn't shake that. I thought at the time that I was going crazy. I was in love with a woman who wasn't the one I was supposed to be in a relationship with, and having a child by a woman I knew I didn't love.

"Tebrianne was so hurt by it all she turned to her best friend and started a relationship with her. I didn't know what to do then...things were getting crazy. I thought I was losing my mind. I was. The device wasn't supposed to be used in the way Catherine used it. I started to fall apart. I had some kind of breakdown and almost died. I started to hemorrhage in the brain and if it hadn't been for the medics I would have died.

"Cathy vanished. She knew the game was up and the device had been discovered and so she fled. She vanished completely and even Starfleet couldn't trace her. It was bad for a while. Tebrianne was involved with someone else, and I couldn't face her with what had happened. She knew that Catherine was having my child, and the memories were still there even though the device wasn't, and so it ruined everything. I didn't know what to believe anymore. That was at the start of the war and the Galaxy was assigned to one of the attack fleets. A lot of officers were reassigned to fill out the ranks of inexperienced officers that were being rushed through the academy. I was reassigned to the USS Windsor as the Chief Tactical Officer. I thought that was the end of it, but Tebrianne and Julia Roberts were also transferred to the same ship. Tebrianne became the Chief Helm Officer."

He reached out and snatched a handful of jelly beans, popping a black one into his mouth and chewing. Brennyn Scott was still taking it all in, her eyes blinking every so often, but not doing anything that would break Benedict's chain of thought. She was just letting him tell it uninterrupted.

"Our first mission on the Windsor was to rescue a mining facility that had been captured during the war by the Cardassians. It had come back into Federation hands, but hadn't been contacted in a while. A distress signal had reached an outpost station on the border and Windsor was sent to investigate. We discovered that the Cardassians had looted the station of everything before they left, in fact a few Cardassians had been left behind too. The communications array had been destroyed and the mining facility had been sealed off. The planet was Class N - no atmosphere at all. The people that had been slaves working the mines had been left to starve to death. To survive they had started to eat each other. A man named Marco Raimus had taken over the facility and used death squads to determine who lived and died. When we showed up - they tried keeping what they had been doing a secret. When we found out Marco tried to force us to leave. We didn't know it at the time, but he was a member of the Orion Syndicate. He had ulterior motives - they wanted the mine for themselves. Raimus took the commander of the away team as a hostage. That was Tebrianne. She'd been promoted to Lt. Commander and this was her first away team mission as commander. Raimus took her. He said he'd kill her if we didn't leave." Benedict's voice was almost a whisper. His voice husky with emotion. "He raped her, beat her and subdued her until she was forced to do things...." He couldn't look into the counselor's eyes now. He just examined a jelly bean minutely between his fingers.

"He strapped a bomb to her body and threatened to detonate it. Captain St.Claire wasn't about to negotiate with terrorists. She wasn't going to back off either. It was the life of a single officer against the lives of the people we'd come to save. Teb was expendable...she knew the risks. It was part of the job." He said the words bitterly.

"I was on the away team of course. It must have been while Teb was being brutalized; she was a Romulan and we'd shared minds and it had to have been the extreme circumstances. I felt it, Counselor. I felt it and experienced it - everything that was done to her I experienced as if it was me. I felt it all. The beatings, the rape, all of it. She knew she was going to die. You can't do that to a Starfleet Officer and ever get away with it. Marco was going to kill her for sure. I wasn't about to let that happen." He looked up at Scott - his eyes challenging - almost dangerous. "I snapped. I went after Marco. I disobeyed orders and I went after them all. I knew he would kill her. I knew St.Claire wouldn't allow Starfleet to be pushed around by a terrorist either. Tebrianne was more important to me than my life or my duty. I went after them, Counselor - and I killed them. St.Claire sent my own men after me. I almost made it too. I almost got Marco. He pushed Tebrianne out into the mine site with a bomb strapped to her body. One of my security detail found her. He thought that he could diffuse the device and save her. Instead he tripped it. Tebrianne died." His thumb crushed the jelly bean and he tossed it into his mouth. "He escaped in the confusion.

"She died. Part of me died with her. In the last moments of her life I felt her in my mind. They say that Vulcans and Romulans form mating bonds - I think that was what it was. I felt her. She did something - in those last moments she put everything right. She said goodbye but I'd experienced everything she had experienced. I still can't forget it. Sometimes it comes back to me...the terror and the feeling of being abandoned and alone - of being separated from the only one I ever loved...those were her memories - but I feel them as if they were mine and it makes me feel more guilt, more shame." He looked up at her then and sighed. "It's taken me five years to get past that...well...to the point where I can love someone else. I'm in love with Lyrr Tayla.

"I've done it before, Counselor...thrown duty away because I loved Tebrianne - I'm afraid of doing it again." He looked haunted as he gazed at Brennyn Scott. "I've been afraid that Tayla would compromise her duty for my sake - but I'm even more afraid that I would do it for her."

And he truly was afraid, Brennyn could see it in his eyes. In many ways, T'Kal's healing process was just beginning. It was one thing to be able to talk about all that he'd been through and to rationalize his emotions, it was quite another to be able to move on from it and to maintain a healthy relationship despite it.

"Afraid because of the potential outcome or afraid because you feel you're not worth the same sacrifice?" She would never have suspected Benedict T'Kal to carry so much shame, pain and guilt, and yet, here he was, as afraid to love as she suspected Lyrr Tayla was.

"Nice question," he said with a smirk. "Both?" he ventured. "I've had dreams." His voice turned distant as his eyes saw again the pile of rotting bodies with Starfleet uniforms and Lyrr Tayla, pale as moonlight and covered in scars beckoning him into her arms. "Bad dreams," he said. "Consequences...an error of judgement. Following my heart could get people killed - it has in the past." He looked up at Scott. "I am a security officer, Counselor - I put myself in harm's way - that's my job - I know I've told you that before...but Tayla might...she might make a bad choice." He looked away. "For my sake...." his voice trailed off. He couldn't tell her that she already had - that the night of the alien crisis she'd tried to remove him from the job to protect him from making a bad decision...that he'd found her drunk in quarters during the crisis when she should have been on the Bridge.

"And isn't that wonderful," stated Scott, "that Lyrr Tayla has been given the free will to think and feel for herself, to be a sentient being with feelings and opinions..." And then she suddenly got it.

She looked into his eyes for several long moments then and she might have very easily chalked up his concerns to arrogance or an overdeveloped sense of chivalry, but looking at him now, she saw something more. "Oh, Ben." She sighed slowly and reined in her compassion lest he suddenly grow uncomfortable with disclosing additional thoughts and feelings. "None of what happened to Tebrianne or to you was your fault. Returning her affection, caring for her that much and having that love returned was not a mistake."

Scott had had no idea the things Ben had gone through, and despite the way he'd rattled off his past to her, she now understood a tiny bit of the pain she'd seen in his eyes.

"It's my fault she died alone," he said it quietly, yet the words were filled with his guilt. "In the end she forgave me...but I can't forgive myself." He looked up at Scott. "I gave Tebrianne my mother's Betrothal Bracelet. She and I were going to be married. I betrayed her." He looked away and stared hard at the stars outside the counselor's view port. "I allowed a friendship with a woman to come between us. Cathy was supposed to be my friend - I was blind to the way she truly felt. If I'd known maybe I could have done something." Just saying the words to Scott made his mind turn to another friendship - a more recent one. The pattern was the same. History repeating itself. Karma. The wheel of life turning around once more. Would Shirik Lektar become another Catherine Page? The thought chilled him.

When she spoke, it was with a gentle firmness honed not just through years of training, but also from years of caring about other people's pain. "But you couldn't have known." She paused, choosing her words carefully and acknowledging the pain he was feeling. "Tell me what you remember about that night, the night Cathy drugged you. What happened?"

He shrugged. "I have very little to go on. The Betazoid Counselor recovered a fragment of memory from my mind, but it looks like Cathy erased the event using the device she implanted into me. You see, we were never intimate." Benedict looked at the counselor. "Even though she had attempted to override my own memories there was something wrong...I could feel it. She wanted to, but I didn't feel that it was right...so she was frustrated. Her plans didn't work. She resorted to drugging me and stealing some viable sperm cells. I remember nothing. I'm glad of that. There was just enough memory to determine what had happened, most of it subconscious. She used me. Took the one thing that I hold dear - my right to have a family of my own choosing. There's nothing more important to me than that...having a family."

He sighed and smiled tentatively at the Counselor. "I want a family, Brennyn. I want to be a father someday - and raise a child the way my parents raised me. Tayla isn't interested in children. But then, she's never been in love before either." His eyes darkened as he thought of the Cardassian and he couldn't stop the distaste from shadowing the line of his mouth.

"I hear anger and disdain in your voice. Are you angry at her for that, Ben, or are you angry at yourself because you think she just doesn't want children with you?"

Things were becoming much clearer now. Cathy Page had violated Benedict T'Kal, and even more than that, she had violated his trust. Scott could see how such an event could make one question the feelings of others and one's own judgement. Who could be trusted? Could he trust himself? Was he worth a long-time relationship or was he stuck somehow?

"The anger is for something else entirely and it has nothing to do with Tayla. Tayla is a career officer - she's not interested in children. The subject of children in our relationship would be somewhat premature...we are quartered together, but...we haven't...consummated our relationship."

"And is that something you'd like? Something you're ready for?"

He smiled. "It's something we will consider in the future...when we're ready for it. Right now, it isn't a part of our relationship."

Bree leaned forward casually. "So where is the anger coming from?" He hadn't tried to hide it from her. "Would you like to be ready? Is that frustrating you?"

He smiled. "It's complicated, and it's not something I'm permitted to discuss." He held her eyes for a moment and there was an understanding that the issue wasn't Ben's. "I'm sorry - yes it causes frustration, but I can't talk about it."

It wasn't he who was holding back. From his smile she could tell he very much wanted her to know that. Ben had been used and manipulated by Catherine Page, but he wasn't allowing his pain to interfere. Or was he? It didn't fit. "It's not okay to feel frustrated?"

"Yes, it's okay to be frustrated - in that sense." He shrugged and still smiled. "When it's time - then it's time. I can wait." Now I understand what the hell is happening, he thought. "I'm just afraid of getting into another situation where I have to choose between duty and relationship. I'm afraid for both of us."

"Maybe she's afraid too, Ben. Does she know about all you've told me? It might help you and your relationship tremendously to discuss these feelings."

He looked skeptical. "Telling Lyrr Tayla that I deliberately went against orders for someone I loved...I can see where that would help my relationship... "

Scott paused, then said, "Have you considered how not sharing these feelings and concerns is affecting your relationship? And what it's doing to you personally?"

"I'll tell her about Page...eventually. Right now she's dealing with enough without me unloading my problems." He knew that he'd said too much already.

Something about the way he looked at her and the way he'd said it gave Bree pause. He'd been dancing around matters with Lyrr for awhile now, and while she had to respect his feelings and their confidentiality, she wasn't comfortable with watching him suffer because of something going on with Lyrr.

She might have chalked it up to stress due to the recent medical crisis if it weren't for the expression on Ben's face and the tone of his voice. She took a moment to read him once more and then finally broke the silence.

"Anything you tell me stays between us unless you tell me you or someone you know plans to do harm to themselves or others. I'm not about to breach your confidentiality in order to help someone else. But you can tell me anything, and I will do all I can to help you, Ben." She looked directly into his eyes. "For example, if you think it will benefit you emotionally, I can ask to speak to Commander Lyrr one on one." She held his gaze, then added, "But only if you feel it necessary, of course."

He frowned and examined his hands for a moment. What should he do? He knew Tayla needed the help - and so did he...but he'd promised her and now he knew that she was in mandatory counseling it might be the best thing for her.... He had to keep his word, but he had to fulfill his duty also. Would Brennyn keep the confidence while she was with Tayla? She'd personally have to decide if the situation crossed into professional conduct of Tayla's part - and Ben was pretty sure that it would. F'Zal was in it too - and the Betazoid would discover Tayla's issues pretty quickly if she let him into her mind - which he completely doubted that she would. He finally looked up at Scott - held her gaze for a long few seconds. Would she? His violet eyes were weighing her, trying to determine what he could do and knowing that he needed the ability to talk to someone - anyone but Tayla. His hesitation stretched the moment and he almost spoke but didn't before his eyes broke away from hers.

She was watching his every expression intently, and he knew that she wanted him to talk. In the end he couldn't stand it any longer. "If I told you about my situation - even if it was to do with another's problems you would keep that confidential? I cannot say anything, Brennyn," he used her first name as he gazed into her eyes directly to make a point, "anything at all if what I say doesn't remain solely between us - nothing can be said in any way to anyone, and nothing goes in the logs. Totally off the record. I have to have your word on that - no matter what I tell you." His eyes were almost pleading for her to say yes.. "Because if it does...I won't have a relationship. I love her, Brennyn." He also was counting on her using the information in her sessions with Tayla - thus allowing him to help her without direct involvement.

There was so much she could have said, and indeed wanted to say, about honesty and romantic relationships and trust, but in that moment, her reality didn't matter. His feelings were determining his level of comfort, and while over time she would work on changing his perceptions, right now the desperation in his eyes was most important. Her hands would be tied, and although she knew with certainty she would do nothing to violate that trust as long as she didn't have to, Bree was putting herself into one hell of a position.

It was Scott's turn to look down at her feet, sigh, and then to meet his gaze. "As long as I'm convinced what you've told me poses no threat to you, to her, or to the ship, nothing you say will leave this room. If it does pose some sort of threat, I promise you I will find some other means besides our sessions to substantiate it, and I'd bet my life that if things are that serious, it's only a matter of time before both our hands are forced and an opportunity presents itself."

She paused, then added, "My priority is your well-being. I'm not about to sacrifice the trust we have on a whim. I know you need someone you can open up to right now, and I'm ready and willing to do what you ask, but I want to make one thing clear: I will not help you or her self-destruct. What's more, I think your own sense of duty already respects that."

He nodded and considered how he was going to start this. When he'd found Lyrr in their quarters passed out drunk during a ship-wide crisis it had shocked him. Then when she had tried to remove him from command of the project the captain had given him so that he couldn't be blamed if it went wrong? It caused him pain just thinking about it. When he looked back at Brennyn Scott a minute had gone by in silence.

"Lyrr has been an effective officer for her entire career. The issues I need to talk about haven't affected her duty, and it's a very old problem - you could say it's a childhood issue. You know we both have a long history on Bajor, during the Occupation." He looked her in the eyes. "I was known by my father's name - Tikaru. I led a Bajoran Resistance cell. I killed Cardassians, Brennyn. It was my duty and I did my duty. They tortured and murdered my parents. I saw so many atrocities done to my people during that time...many things...." His eyes were gazing into the distance of memory again. "Some Bajoran girls were taken when they were young - and trained - manipulated to love their Cardassian masters." He took a deep breath and looked back at the counselor. "Tayla was one. When she was sixteen, she was psychologically trained by a Cardassian called Oresh. She really believed that she loved him...and even now she hasn't really let go of that.

"So...she's found it impossible to form personal relationships - based on the fact that she's hated herself for loving or thinking that she loved this Cardassian. Here I am...wanting to love her - knowing that she loved a Cardassian...." His features twisted with bitterness at the thought. "He broke her so that she responds...I didn't know...." Benedict couldn't hold Scott's gaze then. "I didn't know at first...and so we tried to make love and she reacted badly." He shook his head. "She would tease me...start something and I'd respond to it and then it would turn bad. Eventually she had to tell me - and she's told me everything - and so now I sleep with her - but sex isn't something she's prepared for yet. It's taken a hell of a lot of guts to be honest with me - and she made me swear not to tell anyone - though I pleaded with her to see a counselor - she won't. She says that I can help her through it - but I don't know if I can, but I have to try.

"She's made so much progress since we've been together," he smiled sadly, "but cracks are appearing, and I need help to do the right thing. I want to support her, Brennyn, I want to help her through this - but I'm no psychologist and it's such a mine field. My feelings about what happened to her with the Cardassian...I do love her - but I'm competing against a Cardassian."

Scott was quick to respond, though inside she was reeling. This was a lot to take in all at once and it certainly helped to put many things into perspective. "I can understand how it would feel like that, but it sounds to me as if you're both really just competing with your respective pasts. I'm wondering how much of what you're expressing is coming from not truly understanding the extent of the psychological manipulation involved, and how much is coming from your own hatred and unresolved feelings toward the Cardassians. Are you familiar with Stockholm Syndrome?"

"Yes I am," he sighed. "Security department psychology 101 - captive psychology." He shrugged.

"It's a psychological phenomenon first observed in hostages taken during a bank robbery in Sweden. Four hostages were held in a small space for five days, and when they were finally released, psychologists found the hostages had developed a strong emotional attachment to their captors, some going so far as to defend them against the people who wanted to bring the captives to safety. What you have to understand, Ben, is that Tayla doesn't really want to feel connected to Oresh, and probably isn't. Connecting with him was her unconscious way of protecting herself - it was a defense mechanism. She unconsciously realized that if she was cooperative and supportive, she could ensure her survival. If she could ensure her survival, she would then be relieved of the stress created from not knowing if she was going to live or die at his hands or at the hands of those fighting for her release. That unconscious surrendering of control helped her to cope with a situation in which control had already been taken from her.

"The longer a person is held in captivity, the stronger the attachment becomes. Tayla probably came to see him as a sentient being, simply over time, and because he knew how to manipulate her to get her sympathy and cooperation. At sixteen, I doubt she had any healthy romantic relationships to compare it to, Ben. And I'm willing to bet that the bond wasn't always held together with loving words and protection. Has she spoken to you of times when Oresh was not loving, times when she acknowledges that he raped her?"

"Oh yes...he tortured her. He raped her and psychologically abused her - as a Bajoran I saw many cases like Tayla's - I understand what was done - and how it was accomplished. Rationally I can see that - emotionally dealing with it is something else. She has told me that she believed that she loved Oresh - I know that she didn't - but she believes she did. Tayla's already admitted to me that the feelings she has for me are close to those she had for Oresh...and that's part of her problem. She's ashamed of the feelings she believes that she had - and so comparing it to the feelings she has for me is causing her difficulties in admitting that she loves me. I didn't understand at first...I thought I did - I thought that her submissiveness and willingness to approach sex was normal - but that she shied away from it because of how she felt about Oresh. I was wrong. She was conditioned to respond that way - automatically responding in the patterns that Oresh instilled in her. She hates herself for doing it - for responding that way...but she can't help it." He looked up at Brennyn. "Now I do understand though - and until she can fully understand that what she feels for me is genuine and not conditioned, I'm not going to respond to her sexual advances. Though she's getting more blatant...the more I refuse the more she pushes."

Bree nodded. "That sounds about right. She wants to please you and she's trying to relate to you the only way she knows how. Acting out is her way of expressing her anger and her fear of rejection all at the same time. She wants to be able to relate to you sexually in a normal way without feeling dirty."

He closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair. "What do I do?" he asked softly. "Am I doing the right thing?" He looked back at her. "If she finds out I told you any of this...."

Bree leaned forward and placed a reassuring hand on Ben's arm. "She won't hear it from me unless she does something to force my hand, Ben. I would encourage you just to listen to what she has to say without judging her for it. She needs to know that your love is not conditional and that you are going to do whatever you can to support her. That said, you also need to know that keeping her secret is not serving you or your relationship in a healthy way. I'll be up front with you, Ben: you absolutely cannot be objective here, and with good reason given what you're dealing with. She needs to talk to a counselor about this, and if she values your needs and your well-being, she won't ask you to battle this ghost between you alone. Tell her you need help."

He laughed softly and shook his head. "We had a very large fight about that. I gave her an ultimatum - see a counselor or it's over." He looked Bree in the eyes and shrugged. "I realized at the time I was pushing too hard. She has come a long way in the couple of months we've been together. I'm giving her time because she asked for it, and because at some point I know that she'll realise that to move on she will have to speak to someone else. I guess I just need your support for me. I need to know that what I'm doing is okay, just so that I can support her until she sees that she has to see you."

Scott looked thoughtful for a moment, then replied, "I believe you are doing the best you know how to do. I believe you love her and that this is an incredibly painful experience for you on so many levels. It's not for me to judge right now, but I must help you explore the alternatives. Have you thought about the possibility she will never want to move on, that she will never ask for help as long as you're there helping her keep her secret?"

He pursed his lips and waved absently with one hand. "I'm not keeping her secret am I?" he asked pointedly. "I'm in here - seeing you. Obviously that has occurred to me." He had to tell her that F'Zal had already asked him - she probably knew already anyway. "F'Zal came to see me today and he asked about Tayla and why Tayla would mention to F'Zal directly that I had wanted her to see him. He told me that she's in mandatory counselling." He looked at Brennyn. "So I know that you are talking to her...but I didn't say anything to F'Zal. I denied it. Not that I believe that he believed me, but he didn't push the point. I guess he wanted me to approach it on my own."

"Perhaps," Bree allowed. F'Zal was very good when he had a willing participant who could benefit from his rather brusque manner, but not very good when it came to tact. There were days she wanted him gone, and if they weren't in the Gamma Quadrant, he probably would be.

"I'm not asking you to leave her, or even to pick her up bodily and drag her in here. I know she has to want help first, but I also know that some secrets destroy. Helping her to isolate may also be confirming the notion that she has something to keep hidden. She's spent fifteen years handling this all by herself. How much more time do you think she's going to need to figure out she needs help?"

"That's the point, Brennyn. She has to want to come see you - not be forced into it like now - mandatory counselling! I'll work toward that - I will. She's incredibly strong willed. I love that about her. She's lasted this long on her own - risen to XO - on her own. I respect that more than anything. There's nothing I wouldn't do for her...and sometimes that means doing things she doesn't agree with because I do know best. I've been through some hard times, and always the Starfleet Counselors have been there to help me. I can't say I've done it all myself - but I did know when I needed help. She's never let anyone see this side of her. I'm the first one she's ever let into her real world. I know she needs help - but if this isn't handled properly - if she thinks that I've betrayed her trust, then I know she'll shut me out - and along with me - anyone else who might be able to help her. So I'm taking a risk - I'm risking everything."

"And I admire you for that, Ben, I really do. My emotional support of you is unconditional. But sometimes we can get so bogged down with doing right by someone else that we fail to see the toll it's taking on us personally. I don't want you taking all of this on and then beating yourself up if things don't go the way you plan. You have some real issues with the Cardassians, and I wouldn't be surprised, nor would I blame you, if you reacted to this badly when she told you about it, and if she reacts negatively if you encourage her to get help, whether she's hit bottom or not. I need you to be prepared for that moment and know that it's not your fault. Besides, mandatory counseling for Lyrr has to do with her almost getting killed, not about what we're discussing. Her past might come up, but I assure you, my focus right now is how Lyrr is handling this traumatic event. What you said to her or what F'Zal said to you doesn't mean a damn thing as far as that assessment is concerned. We are not some sort of Gestapo, contrary to public opinion."

He shook his head. "I reacted badly." He leaned forward and almost shuddered, he couldn't look at her. The vision of Lyrr and the memory of her calling out Oresh's name made him feel sick. "We...." He sighed, shoulders slumped and he carried on as if he was trying to pry the words from his throat. "We started to...make love - this was a few weeks ago now...." He shook his head. "I'm ashamed of how I reacted. I was so shocked...she called out his name...while we.... She just called out the Cardassian name. It was the first time...and I was...sick. I couldn't...she ran out of my quarters in tears. I know she didn't mean to...I know...but it was a shock." He finally looked up at Brennyn and his eyes were brimming with unshed tears. "I ran after her. If I hadn't...." He shook his head again almost trying to deny his own feelings. "That was the night she finally told me the truth...but I knew that I loved her then...no matter what had happened to her - I loved her. So I swallowed it. I felt so sick at knowing... I'm ashamed of it."

"Ashamed for her? Or for your own feelings?" asked Scott.

"My own feelings - and for what was done to her." He nodded slowly, seeing the night in his mind. "I am shamed at my own weakness and ashamed for her. She was broken to a Cardassian's will, but still she does not see it. There is a part of her that denies that. It is like her last refuge. She was never broken and so she does not need help. She has not allowed anyone to get close enough to see the flaws." He looked up into Brennyn Scott's face. "I need to drive this devil away from her. For my own sake as well as for hers."

"But it's not our place to be her knight in shining armor, Ben," replied Bree quietly. "Ridding her of her demons will not rid you of your own, nor will it make her feel any better about herself. Getting her to admit she was somehow weakened by Oresh, in her mind, probably minimizes the fact that she survived him. Think about what it was like for you to admit what Cathy had done to you, or to acknowledge what it was like to experience Teb's beatings and rape first hand. What did it take for you to acknowledge your pain and yet not feel diminished by it at the same time? Or," she said after a time, "what will it take?"

"I do feel diminished by it," he said quietly. "I don't know what it will take." He sighed and rubbed his eyes. "She says that she no longer has dreams of him, thanks to my being with her. My presence allows her to sleep well." He smiled at that. "It gives us both comfort," he said as he looked up at Brennyn. "It's a start I guess. She smiles a lot more."

Bree smiled. "I'm afraid I'll have to take your word for that, Ben." She sighed. "I know you love her and want to protect her, and I'm not suggesting you abandon her if she doesn't seek help. But I want you to consider what you will do when and if she continues to refuse to see someone at every turn. How much of your own happiness and your own recovery are you willing to sacrifice? You've told me you're willing to do things she doesn't agree with, but I know how difficult that really is. Maybe your ultimatum wasn't the best thing for her at the time, but you were trying to survive and stood up for yourself. The problem is, you said what you felt and then didn't stick by it. With all respect and care, Lyrr knows you'll never force the issue again, and I'm willing to bet she's counting on it."

"At this point I don't care about me." He shook his head. "I was being unfair to her. I shouldn't have given her an ultimatum like that. Not without giving her a chance to try it the way she wanted. Sometimes, Counselor, a tactical withdrawal is warranted. That's all it is." He smiled grimly. "Then let's call this a covert flanking maneuver. Seriously, her issues are more important than mine. She's the XO." Ben's eyes met hers. "We're far from home and she's needed - functional. I can't allow her to falter - that's part of my responsibilities, but more importantly than that - I love her, and I'll do what ever it takes. That's unconditional."

"I just don't want to see you get hurt. No matter how much you want to save her, I know what this is doing to you now. You can come to me anytime."

He smiled and nodded. "Thanks...I will." He sighed. "I have to get back to work. Thanks for listening. I know that I can rely on you to stay silent on this."

---

"Hey Nonny Nonny"
By: Lt. Cmdr. Damhnait Sefton - Chief Medical Officer
and Ensign Kremer - Medical Officer

Location: Sickbay, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57908.23, 11h27

***

In Main Sickbay, Doctor Sefton grabbed the hypospray of provacillium away from Nurse Sefton, in order to personally administer it to Kremer. She had to smile, for the third time this day, at the fact that Kremer was well enough to have been moved into the main ward without a forcefield surrounding him and without the painful high-level sterilisation field washing over them all. Strolling to his bedside, Damhnait found Kremer breathing without much difficulty, with the assistance of a small Benzite-designed breathing apparatus to provide purer air.

"How do your lungs feel today?" Sefton asked in a congratulatory tone.

"Glad to have them back, it's good to breathe again. How are the others?"

"Doing as well as you," Damhnait gladly affirmed. "In fact, Shirik is surprisingly doing even better. She is up and walking, even when she shouldn't be. Drokari physiology is an amazing thing. Not that Caitian physiology doesn't have other benefits."

Kremer's ears perked up hearing this news. "Shirik is better? I heard she asked about me from one of the counselors, Counselor Scott I believe, how are her vitals?"

Without Shirik's data on hand, Damhnait could still confidently tell him, "Her heartbeat, temperature and blood pressure are all within Drokari norms without the need for medications. Her breathing rate is still somewhat erratic, but it is progressing nicely."

Kremer beamed. "Splendid! I'm happy to hear she is well on her way to recovering, gave us quite a scare I'm certain after her collapse in the turbolift," he remarked, his tail wavering sadly recalling the event.

"And the others? Doctor M'lira and Tchalla? How are they?"

"Recovering as expecting," Damhnait replied. "You should all be well enough to return to duty a week from now. I believe you will even be ready to take trips out of Sickbay over the next couple of days, starting this evening, so long as you pace yourself and return to Sickbay when asked to."

"Of course, Doctor, no point in receiving a tongue-lashing for being a bad patient...I can assure you I will do as told, scouts honour," Kremer replied, raising his paw in salute.

Smirking at the salute, Damhnait said, "That is very comforting to hear. Maybe you can convince some of the other patients to share your patience."

Administering the provacillium as she did so, Doctor Sefton asked, "I'm curious to hear any of your thoughts or reactions to how you've been treated as a patient here in our Sickbay?"

Kremer relaxed as Sefton pressed the hypospray to his neck, allowing himself to slip into thought briefly as to her questions. "I feel that I have been treated well whilst in sickbay, though I do wish some of the nurses would check to see which chemical would be just as effective as another but without the nasty side effects of vomitting or nausea."

Recalling her review of the medical staff's crisis actions, Sefton grimaced. "I believe there is greater awareness now, after the mistakes have been made. We simply have to remember that much of the medical staff was required to act in capacities well beyond their training."

"Duly noted I hope." The Cait grimaced briefly recalling the event vividly. He wasn't sure whether to feel more sorry for himself or the nurse he threw up on. Kremer allowed his tail to wrap around Damhnait's right wrist. "I hope you don't mind my asking, but how are you doing, Doctor?"

"I cannot quite rest and recuperate until my entire staff is well, but I will take that time to do so, once I know that you, and Yulik and M'lira can watch over Sickbay in my absence," Damhnait replied, patting his shoulder. Recalling Kremer's own rank-related frustrations of his efforts not always being acknowledged and recognised, she added, "I suppose I am also still...struggling to...find my corner of the sky on this ship."

"And let us hope that if such an absence occurs it is a short one rather than a long one. In any case I will perform my duties to the best of my abilities. Even doctors need advice every once in a while, they should never be afraid to ask," he remarked, giving her wrist a light squeeze in reassurance.

"It's never about fear; it's about taking one's time to discover who has the most valuable advice to give. You can feel free to weigh in. How would you behave in a new situation where you can't quite gauge how far you trust your colleagues?" Damhnait softly asked.

"As Terrans would put it, as though I were stepping on eggshells, I would do it very carefully." The Cait looked down for a moment as he contemplated what Damhnait had told him. Just how exactly would one approach that situation?

Looking back up he replied before asking, "I would first see if that trust is truly there by giving them a task which I would entrust them to complete. Why do you ask Doctor?"

Amused that this Caitian knew more Terran-isms than she did, and unwilling to drop all protocol, Damhnait only responded in kind, "Either there is something rotten in the state of Denmark or I am just a mad Ophelia imagining it all, but I am taking tentative steps towards the castle door to see if there is truly trust to be found there."

---

"Taking Care of Their Own"
By: Ensign Mason Farrell; Operations Officer
Ensign Shirik Lektar; Operations Officer

Location: USS Sulu, Lektar's Quarters
Stardate: 57908.23 12h39

***

Ordinarily, Shirik would have gone to the door to meet the visitor and thus block their entry until she decided whether she wanted them to, but this being her first day out of sickbay, she wasn't yet back up to full strength. Breathing was still somewhat of a chore, and the Benzite device attached to the front of her uniform to aid her breathing was a bit of an annoyance. So she stayed sitting on her bed and simply said, "Come."

"How's the sickie?" Farrell asked jovially, stepping in and letting the door close behind him. He had a PADD in his hand, and a holstered tricorder.

She blinked in surprise. "Ensign Farrell," she greeted. Her voice was a bit hoarse, and she still had to pause and breathe between long sentences, but she could at least speak once more. "Why are you here?"

"I heard they turned you loose, and I figured I'd bring you a little 'glad you're well' present."

"Please, no more presents. The last one you brought me made me sick, and I almost threw up on Crewman Sorg." She made a face as she remembered that unpleasantness.

"Yeah, I heard that. I'm, uh," he scratched his nose. "I'm sorry about that. If it makes you feel better, Doctor Sefton hit me with the tank," he grinned.

"She did?" She quirked an eyebrow at him. "I'm surprised she didn't make you come to sickbay and clean the mess up off the floor next to my bed. Is she going to put you on report for it?"

"Nah," Farrell waved the idea off. "She actually apologized for hitting me. Apparently she was aiming at the wall next to me, and her aim's bad. But she did threaten me with body cavity searches if I smuggled food into Sickbay again. As a show of good faith, I have brought nothing edible with me this time," he finished with a wink and handed her the PADD.

"Well, that's good to know," she said, and took the PADD curiously to look over its contents.

"It's a flatvid I used to watch all the time whenever I was sick. It's human comedy, so I have no idea how well it'll go over with you, but it always made the time go by when I was stuck in bed."

"I could have used this when I was in sickbay," she mused. "Although if it's comedy, probably better I watch it while my lungs are working and I can laugh. So, what is it?"

"The Princess Bride. It's a neat little story-within-a-story." He paused, then shrugged with the next word, "Story."

She eyed him suspiciously. "I see a recurring theme here."

"What, the story story story thing?"

"No, the princess thing...."

"Purely coincidental. I swear," Farrell said, placing a facetious hand on his chest. "Besides, if that Blood Queen biography you lent me is any indication, the similarities stop at the word Princess anyway," he grinned.

"Likely," she said. "So, you've finished the biography, then?"

"I did. It was educational. There are a few Earth parallels that might intrigue you. You might like historical accounts of the Medici family of Earth, or the writings of Niccolo Machiavelli, or the governmental history of the 20th and 21st century United States of America. If, that is, you find the Blood Queen interesting."

"It was required reading during my education. The volume I have is very old and very valuable. But I'm not really a student of history. If you've finished it, I have someone else who'd like to read it."

Farrell looked perplexed. "Don't I have a copy? Surely you didn't give me the original."

"Indeed," she admitted. "But there's no reason for you to keep it now that you've finished it, correct?"

Now he looked suspicious, but not seriously so. "Why don't you want--Ohhh," he corrected himself, his head tilting back with the realization. "It's not the work itself. It's the language."

She didn't answer for a time, looking down at the PADD in her hands. Finally she said, "I don't know you well enough to trust my people's tongue in your hands."

Farrell closed his eyes, and shook his head with a low chuckle. "Mind if I sit down?" he asked, indicating a chair.

She shrugged and gestured at the chair.

He pulled the chair over so he could sit close, and turned it around to straddle the back and fold his arms across the top. "I suppose just asking 'please' isn't enough to do it, hm?" The bulk of his sarcasm was gone, replaced with a frank but pleasant tone.

"I'm not sure why I gave it to you in the first place," she said quietly. "But after I had, I wished I hadn't. I'm still not sure you can be trusted, or what you will do with the knowledge you have gained, other than possibly use it to mock me."

"May I ask you a question?"

She nodded.

"What exactly," he began, his tone still friendly, "makes you think you can't trust me?"

She thought about that. "I've been asking myself that question. I think it all started with the way you mocked me when we first met. That was not a good first impression. But I also trust my gut instincts, and I can't pinpoint what it is, but there's something about you that sets off my distrust. Whenever I'm in the same room with you, I can feel all my defenses go up. I'm not sure why." She decided not to add the things that Ben had told her.

Farrell nodded. "Alright. I made a poor first impression, and I," he thought a moment, "just," he shrugged, "make you nervous. Is it because I'm male and not servile?"

She laughed. "No. Do you think that is the only sort of male I'm comfortable associating with?"

He laughed back affably, and held up a hand in surrender. "Just asking. You never did answer my question about whether or not you approved of the Blood Queen."

"Approved of the woman, or the story? What exactly do you mean?"

"Both, really. The woman herself, and her actions in the text. She was pretty ruthless."

She considered her answer. "I do believe in being ruthless to one's enemies. It's the best means of survival. But she plunged our people into a thousand years of civil war. Her actions are generally not considered good for our people, although in one form or another, many of her policies survive to this day."

"Interesting," Farrell mused. "So why this biography? Why give me this one to read?"

"No particular reason," she shrugged. "It's one I happen to have in a bound version."

"Fair enough," he answered, then, more quietly, "Am I your enemy?"

"I don't believe so, no. Not an enemy. Are you?"

"I'd certainly like to think I'm not," Farrell smiled slightly. "Ops has to take care of its own."

"And what if I weren't Ops?" she asked.

Farrell thought a moment, his smile turning thoughtful. "Would we be enemies, then? Is that what you're asking?"

"No... I'm wondering if you wouldn't... 'take care' of me, then." There was the barest hint of a smile on her lips.

"I'm having a hard time taking care of you now, it looks like," Farrell grinned. "At least with you in Ops I get to try. If you were in some other department I'm sure your impression of me would have already been poisoned beyond repair."

"I can't say that people haven't tried," she said. "But I prefer to make my own decisions about people."

"Glad to hear it. I see if I can't work myself out of the hole."

"Let me simply ask, what is it that you want?"

"From you?"

She nodded.

"I want to be able to work with you without either of us feeling like we're keeping score."

"Fair enough. How do you think we should proceed?"

"Well, I'm not the one who doesn't trust me," Farrell quipped. "You first."

She shrugged. "I don't know, really. Maybe once I'm actually back to work, we can work on it."

"I'm gonna trust you on that," Farrell said, rising from his chair and setting it back in its place. "Enjoy the vid. And tell me what you think either way. I'm curious."

"I will," she promised. After a moment she added, "Thanks for stopping by."

"Not a problem at all." Farrell smiled warmly. He started for the door. "Hey, I meant to ask. Why'd they change your guard?"

She eyed him. "How did you know it was changed?"

Farrell laughed warmly. "You were in sickbay, Lektar."

"I was, but you weren't." She smiled, but it didn't last long, turning to a dark frown as she thought of the new guard. "It was a misunderstanding, I expect Sorg will be back guarding the core by the time I return to duty." There was an unspoken 'or else' on the end.

Farrell arched an eyebrow at her frown. "That bad?"

"Worse." Her frown deepened into a scowl. "If I ever lay eyes on him again, it will be too soon."

"Oh ho ho," Farrell said, sensing something juicy and pulling the chair back away from the table. "Alright, spill, mis lig," he said, smiling as he re-straddled the chair.

"He's an arrogant lying khresh-lub," she frowned. "He apparently believes that simply by the act of existing he draws admiration and desire for him from everyone around him. He made Sorg believe that I was dying, even after I'd had my treatment and was recovering."

Farrell was taken aback. "No way."

"Indeed. I suspect it was because he wanted Sorg out of the way so he would be unimpeded in his attempts to impress me. Which were anything but successful, but I imagine he will believe I am completely charmed by him simply by virtue of his ego."

"He's that bad, is he?" Farrell smiled, rather enjoying her unbridled honesty.

"Indeed," she said. "He is yet another reason for me to be glad I am no longer in sickbay."

"What, you don't think he'll be coming around? Bringing flowers? Making his play?"

"I most sincerely hope not. He may end up in sickbay next."

Farrell laughed again. "I believe you." He stood again. "Well, I'll leave you be. Let me know what you think of the vid. Maybe we can get together and I'll answer questions about human humor." He grinned as he replaced the chair again.

"Very well. I'll let you know when I've viewed it." She frowned slightly to herself. It hadn't occurred to her that Casey might not give up once she was out of sickbay. She hoped Farrell was wrong.

"And don't worry about mister Khresh Lub," Farrell said, walking through the door. "Remember, Ops takes care of its own."

He winked. The door closed. And he was gone.

She watched the door close with a small frown. "Just don't end up in the brig..." she muttered to herself.

---

"Professional Opinion"
By: Commander Lyrr Tayla
Lieutenant Brennyn Scott

Location: Scott's Counselling Office, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57908.23, 15h25

***

Her arms remained tightly folded, closing her off from the other woman, whose steady, intensely probing gaze had her fidgeting restlessly. She crossed, and uncrossed her legs, cleared her throat sonorously, and otherwise made every attempt to distract the counsellor, but her eyes remained fixed to Lyrr unwaveringly. Finally, the commander returned her stare with great dissatisfaction and impatiently gestured for her to begin. "I have a duty station to return to. Can we please do this?"

Bree's eyes sparkled in amusement. "We are doing this. I was simply waiting for you to stop dancing. Who knew you could do the Hokey Pokey while sitting down?"

Lyrr frowned, but in puzzlement. "Hokey what?" She dismissed it with a quick shake of her head and a heavy sigh. "Look...am I or am I not fit for duty? That's all we need to decide here today."

"It sounds like you already have. Are you that angry with me already, or am I guilty by association with F'Zal?"

"I'm not angry," Lyrr explained, her tone softening though with a residual tightness. "I'm just agitated. I'm not comfortable divulging my emotions to others, especially a stranger."

Bree seemed to consider that a long moment, and then she smiled and offered her hand. "Hello, my name is Brennyn Mackenzie Scott. I'm an only child. My parents died on Betazed during the Occupation. I feel...sad. Mostly because people don't want to talk to me. I'm a counselor, you see. And whether or not I'm on duty, to most people that means I can't be trusted. I love talking to people though. I love being a friend to people who need them."

"Even to people who don't want them?" Lyrr riposted, warily eyeing the offered hand but not accepting it.

"Oh everybody wants friends," Bree replied, "maybe not me, but then again, why the hell not me? I'm glad you didn't die, Lyrr. You had one hell of a scare and I thought perhaps you would need to talk about it with someone who won't tell a soul about it. Is it so hard to believe you're worth caring about?"

"I don't see what this has to do with my ability to perform as Executive officer of this ship. And besides," Lyrr added, "I don't recall dying, so how could it possibly have affected me?"

"But you did die, on the table. How does that make you feel, Tayla? You were doing your job and you died, you were helpless to stop it. You had no choice but to rely on the care of others. That alone would piss off the Lyrr I know."

"That's because you don't know Lyrr Tayla," she pointed out, smiling flatly. "And could you please refer to me as 'Commander'? I'd prefer if you didn't use my name."

"What if I wanted to get to know you, so we weren't total strangers? In here, I prefer to drop ranks. It's easier to talk, as I find some people tend to hide behind their positions."

"Then call me Lyrr," she advised, her gaze steely. "I only allow two people to call me Tayla, and one of those is my captain, simply because he is my captain. You, counsellor, are not the other."

"Well I should say so," she replied, "I don't love you. Not like Ben. Unlike you, apparently, he was scared to death when he thought he lost you. And no, I didn't break privilege, it was written all over his face."

Lyrr cleared her throat and looked down, sufficiently subjugated. "Of course he was scared to death," she admitted. "He believes he owes me a debt of Giri" --she glanced up, clarifying-- "obligation. I saved his life, and he has yet to find an opportunity to return the gesture. My death would've prevented that."

"Among other things," Bree added ruefully. "How does that make you feel? And please spare me the 'I'm a soldier and Starfleet Officer and have accepted death as a possibility' speech. It's a whole other thing when someone actually goes through a traumatic event and confronts death head on."

Lyrr shrugged, settling against the chairback to relax - it seemed the session was going to be a long one. "I've faced death before, Counsellor. You sort of...get used to it." She let the answer hang for a moment, but as an involuntary afterthought, she added, "But...when I thought I was dying, I didn't think about myself, or what I would be facing when I did die.... I thought about Ben and how it was so stupid of us to be angry with one another over such a trivial matter. I didn't want him angry with me when I died. So...you want to know how I felt?" Lyrr smiled wanly. "I was furious and sad that we had to part on such bad terms. No fear...just anger."

This intrigued Scott. "And what have you done to confront this anger? Have you made an effort to fix whatever had put you on such bad terms?"

"We...reconciled when I woke up," Lyrr answered. There was a long pause as she studied her laced hands. "Counsellor?" she finally asked, but kept her eyes lowered. "How possible is it for someone to...think they love someone, but really, they're just so indebted to them, they don't know how else to categorize what they feel?"

Bree kept her tone non-chalant. She shrugged. "Anything is possible. There's nothing wrong with being grateful, or in love, but it's important to not want to feel a feeling so badly that one gets invented. How one feels comes from acknowledging what one wants and needs."

Lyrr snorted, and muttered as she turned her head aside, "And I'm neither of the two for Commander T'Kal...."

Bree chuckled. "I'm sorry, I thought it was self-explanatory. One is only capable of figuring out wants and needs for one's self. We may not agree, of course, but everyone has a right to their feelings."

"If they're true," Lyrr told her, once again facing her. "If this person is declaring feelings for you that they truly are feeling. If they aren't being truthful with this person they supposedly love, then no, they don't have a right to those feelings!"

Bree frowned. "But who can only determine the truth of a person's feelings but the person feeling them? You may doubt them, but then I would wonder what it is that would create that doubt. Is there something you are feeling which prevents you from trusting the declarations of another?"

Lyrr shrugged, defiant and severe again. "If a man said he loved you - a man who spends more time associating with another woman than he does you, would you believe his professions of love? Would you, Counsellor?"

"It depends on what you mean by associating," Scott replied honestly. "What are they actually doing and how does distrust fit into it? Do you trust the man to tell you the truth, and if not, why? What wants, needs or feelings are feeding that fear? Is it the fear of betrayal? A feeling of unworthiness, what?"

"I didn't say I was afraid," Lyrr snapped. "I trust him not to lie to me, but that doesn't mean he's divulging everything. I mean...dinners in the lounge, morning runs while I'm still asleep...." She sighed and halted herself before she came off sounding mentally unfit. Regaining her equanimity, she spoke calmly, "I've been betrayed before, and I won't let it happen again. I'll make sure of that."

"How?" she asked. "Who's to say there's anything you can do, that it's even your fault?"

"Of course it's my fault!" she shouted. "When hasn't it been?" Flushed from her outburst and ashamed by it, Lyrr murmured an apology and rose. "I think our time's up."

Bree held up a hand. "Please, just sit a moment and relax. You don't have to talk, and I won't say anything, I promise. I won't even look at you if you wish, just don't leave upset."

"If there's nothing more to say, then what's the point?" she asked. "You'll just...stare at me with that smug half-smile until I crack and confess what's really going on here. Am I right?"

"No, you're not. I won't even look at you if you want. Just take a moment to compose yourself before you return to duty."

There was a heavy sigh, and a time of anxious pacing before her chair, following which Lyrr plunked herself down onto it once again. Arms crossed, mouth pursed tightly, and eyes narrowed, Lyrr sat in silence with the counsellor. Her aplomb irritated Lyrr, and her own quickly ruffled nerves disappointed her; she kept watch of the chrono, awaiting the end of their session. "I don't even know why I'm here," she muttered under her breath, indignantly turning her cheek to the counsellor. "It's not like I'm crazy."

Bree had returned to her desk and was silently reading a PADD, seemingly oblivious to Lyrr now.

"So," Lyrr began, breaking the silence first, "what's the verdict? Am I fit for duty or aren't I?"

"Hmm?" asked Bree, seemingly expectant. "Oh, yeah, you're fit...for now."

Her slitted eyes shot a piercing look of contempt at the counsellor. "And what does that mean?"

Scott was puzzled. "What? You're fit for now. It's not a one time fits all determination, Lyrr."

She smirked at the counsellor's cunning, and again left her seat. "We'll see about that, won't we?" With a glance at the chrono, she nodded approvingly. "Well, that was productive. No offense, though...I hope I never have to see you again." Smiling with self-satisfaction, Lyrr Tayla made with haste for the door. "It's been a pleasure, again, Counsellor!"

Bree managed a half wave and smile, and then Lyrr was out the door.

As soon as the doors hissed shut, Brennyn exhaled as if she'd been underwater for a long time, and had just been allowed to come up for air. She shook her head, and spoke to the phantom in her mind's eye. "It's not your fault, Tayla..."

She inhaled slowly, and relieved by her own restraint, reached for the top PADD on the nearest stack. "Next case."

---

"Waking Up"
By: Ensign Freya Pos, Operations Officer

Location: Pos' quarters, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57908.23 15h40

***

Eyes open, looking at the ceiling, she lay on the bed.

How long had she now been on the Sulu? A week? A month? A year? Somewhere along the line she had lost all track of time. She knew that if she asked the current stardate, she would know how long she had been here.

But it wouldn't feel that way.

It was like she had just woken up.

Sighing, the Trill rubbed her eyes and pushed herself to a seating position.

"Computer, time?"

"1545 ship time."

As she placed her feet on the floor, Freya realised that the 'just woken up' metaphor was almost right on the spot. Ever since the ship entered the gamma quadrant she had done her duties, eaten in the lounge a few times and generally kept to herself. Just like she had done on the Europe. Just like she had done at the Academy. The barely aborted self-destruct sequence had worked like a cold shower. She had finally started to look around more.

Finally, an inner voice said: Kail.

She reached for her boots and started to put them on.

She had met Kail a few times while she was an officer on the USS Europe. Being part of a damage control team on a starship drops you in different situations each time. Including the Trill embassy on Bajor. Journeying in her memories, Freya now knew that he was interested in her. Really interested. When he found out that she was a possible host...

Walking across the small room towards the exit, Freya picked up the vest of her uniform and put it on.

And now here she was, farther away from home than she had ever expected to be, which was not a bad thing. But most of all with the memories of two men who were socially gifted, while she always felt like a misfit.

Then let's change all of that, her thoughts corrected herself, it's not yet too late.

She zipped up her vest and stepped out of her quarters.

---

"Award"
Admiral A'ril - Commander, Starfleet Corps of Engineers [NPC]
Ensign T'rii - Operations Officer [NPC]
Lieutenant Mark Thaine - Chief Engineer

Location: USS Sulu, Chief Engineer's Office
Stardate: 57908.23, 16h04

***

"Chief Engineer's log, Stardate 57908.24

The repairs are progressing - this is ridiculous! How do people actually do this seriously?"

The computer trilled once, questioningly.

"No, that wasn't a question for you. Look, stop recording and start again."

Mark Thaine had never really got the hang of keeping a personal log. He'd tried recording them in the past, when he'd had a spare moment or two. There was never really anything interesting in them. Filled as they were with engineering reports, details of interesting things that happened on the latest mission, and other facts that really belonged in his official logs, any listener would quickly come to the conclusion that when it came to personal logs, Mark Thaine just didn't seem to understand that they were there more as a diary of personal thoughts and feelings, than just serve as an informal duplicate of the official logs. A very informal duplicate.

"Alright...let's try again. Start recording.

"Chief Engineer's personal log, Stardate 57908.24.

"Repairing the damage we received from the previous mission has taken long enough, but we're finally getting there. The final stage of the repairs should begin tomorrow, when we take the warp core offline for full diagnostics and testing.

"Lieutenant Commander Zareb was, for once, half decent, and returned all of his Nightingale crew from my department back to my command while we make the repairs. 'Course, that doesn't mean--"

A beep on the comm-system, followed by a voice, caused him to pause.

"Ensign T'rii to Lieutenant Thaine."

Thaine sighed at the interruption, and opened the channel. "Pause recording. Thaine here. Go ahead."

"You have an incoming message from Starfleet Corps of Engineers. There is a significant amount of interference on the silithium filament today...I cannot guarantee the integrity, sir."

"Alright, send it through to my office."

"Aye, sir."

The Chief Engineer adjusted the flat screen console display in front of him, in preparation for the incoming transmission. The gold bordered Engineer Corps logo appeared hesitantly along with several lines of static and soon coalesced into the angular features of Admiral A'ril. The Admiral was the benefactor of the long Vulcan lifespan - she had entered Starfleet Academy when she was little more than a child by her people's reckoning and after a fifty year career, she still looked a lot like a woman in her mid-twenties. A fiendishly attractive woman in her mid-twenties. Thaine rubbed his stubble self-consciously.

"Admiral," he said, greeting her neutrally.

"Lieutenant Thaine," Admiral A'ril said coolly, several silver lines rippling her image. "It is satisfying to see you survived your ship's most recent misfortune."

"Thank you, Admiral," Thaine responded. "We're all relieved too." He tried to ignore the use of the word 'satisfying' in a context that hardly seemed appropriate. Typical Vulcan.

"I'm sure it was a great comfort to have an engineer as competent as Commander Zareb aboard during the crisis as well," A'ril said. "I hope you are affording yourself the opportunity to work closely with him these few months."

Thaine just blinked at the Admiral for a moment, before finally realising he needed to answer her. "Well, yes...though, what with the last mission's near disaster...we haven't seen that much of each other. Commander Zareb likes to keep his project to himself..." Thaine trailed off. He wondered if the Vulcan would notice.

She did but she moved on. "Commander Zareb is the reason I'm contacting you," A'ril admitted. "He has been afforded a particular honor...one that should not wait for his return to the Alpha Quadrant. I leave it to you to arrange the appropriate ceremonial observations." Her tone had a sense of finality to it.

"Honour? What sort of honour? And you want me to organise this?" He stared at the image of the Admiral in disbelief.

"I cannot think of anyone more appropriate than a fellow engineer," A'ril said through a burst of static. She seemed to be busying herself with something on her console. "I am sending you the replication peri -- ers while comm -- are still -- tact."

"Admiral, isn't there anyone else more suited to this? I don't even--" Thaine stopped himself before he said 'like'. "--know the man."

There was a burst of long static corresponding with A'ril's choppy image. The only thing intelligible was 'appreciated'. Thaine imagined that A'ril even wore a bemused smile as the transmission ended.

The Chief Engineer sighed in annoyance, and resisted the urge to give the screen a very non-standard salute. A half-dozen heartbeats later, Thaine's console chirped with the reception of the specifications to which A'ril had alluded. Naturally, they came through untouched by the transmission errors and Thaine got some sense of the honor that Zareb was to receive.

"Oh, no...Not that..." Thaine's voice didn't lack a tone of faint envy at the level of the award. "Hell."

Displayed on the screen, twirling in dignified glory, was the replicator pattern for nothing less than the Cochrane Medal of Excellence.

---

"Boundaries, Part 1"
By: Ensign Shirik Lektar, Operations
Lt Cmdr Benedict T'Kal, Chief of Security

Location: Officer's Lounge, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57908.23, 18h20

***

Shirik examined her reflection once more in the mirror, and adjusted a stray strand of hair back into place. It was her first day let loose out of sickbay, and she'd been told to take it easy for another day or two before going back on active duty. She'd planned to simply rest in her quarters and read up on the status of her department, but when Ben had asked her to have that dinner with him tonight, well... She just couldn't say no.

Satisfied, she nodded with a small smile. She wasn't dressed overly fancy, but nice. She didn't yet feel up to gowns and dresses and all yet, so she went with a simple pullover light blue sweater and loose-fitting black slacks. She let her hair hang loose around her shoulders, and wore just a hint of perfume. She turned away from the mirror and made her way to Holodeck 3, where he'd told her to meet him. She walked slowly, her lungs still getting used to breathing again, her legs a bit unsteady from lack of use.

She found the holodeck already active, and stepped inside as the doors opened for her. She looked around the unfamiliar surroundings, a smile coming to her lips as her eyes found Ben.

The program was one of the standard stock in the holodeck library. A small cozy restaurant on a waterfront in Paris. It was outside; the night pleasantly quiet, stars shining upon the city that stretched into the distance like scattered stars on the blanket of Earth. Ben had frequented the real place during his stay at the Starfleet Academy, and most of the eateries of the city close to campus were included in the holodeck systems. It helped capture a little of home and got the cadets settled more easily if they could remain in contact with known surroundings. The waiting staff were observant, polite yet barely noticeable when they were not needed.

Ben stood from the table; a square wooden affair that suited the style of the place. There were gaily lit lanterns of pale pastels strung along a cable at the edge of the river and their table was set next to the lapping dark water. A chain link fence separated them from the few feet drop to the water.

He was wearing casual attire, a dark blue sweater and black trousers. His hair was clasped in a pony-tail, tied by a thong of leather in Bajoran style. The noticeable difference was the absence of white at the forelock. His hair was a uniform blue-black that hung to the middle of his shoulders. Benedict smiled warmly and stepped up to hug Shirik as she was shown to the table by a smiling waiter.

She blinked as she noticed the absence of white in his hair. But before she could ask about it, he surprised her with a hug that made her blink again in surprise.

"Hey," he said as he parted. She looked stunning and his eyes involuntarily looked her up and down as he grinned. "You look fabulous." He held her chair as she sat and then sat himself.

"Hi," she grinned. "Thanks." Her voice was a bit hoarse-sounding from lack of use, and she had to pause every few words when she spoke sentences to breathe. "What happened to your white?" she gestured at where it used to be in his hair.

He shrugged. "It was time to let it go." He smiled, and poured her a drink of water from a fluted bottle on the table.

She expected an answer something like that, and nodded. But she found herself missing that distinctive streak.

The few tables on the stone paved terrace were filled with huddled twos and threes, the ambiance of the Parisian night was cosmopolitan, light chatter filled in the background noise and candles in small orange lanterns decorated the center of each table.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

She took a sip from the water he'd poured. "Better," she said. "A lot better." She took a deep breath and let it out with a contented smile. "Gods, did I miss that," she said. "Breathing and talking. I'll never take them for granted again."

He laughed, his eyes alight with appreciation. "Only those who are pulled back from the brink can know what true darkness is." He nodded. "My father once told me that. It's what makes living and life worthwhile. You might have a whole new perspective on things." He looked at her, the shadowed violet of her eyes and the stark white hair that seemed to flow like the white-water of silken rapids across her slender shoulders. Her dark skin was back to its normal shade, made blue black by the color of the sweater she wore.

She nodded, looking thoughtful. "Indeed. I have many things to think on now, and sort out for myself." She smiled, her eyes traveling over him. "We're almost twins tonight," she said, indicating the blue sweater and black pants. "Great minds...?"

Benedict chuckled to himself. "More like the Odd Couple," he joked.

She took another drink of water. "I was surprised you wanted to have this dinner so soon after my release from sickbay," she said. "But pleased. I was only going to be reading in bed anyway, and I've done enough of that for a while, I think. I'm looking forward to eating real food."

He grinned. "Why do you think I asked you tonight? This place is renowned for its dessert menu, and you need some exercise. After all you haven't been running for a while. There's plenty of time for you to sleep later, besides it was you who complained about the need to sleep while you were in sickbay."

She laughed, another thing she'd missed being able to do. "What, you plan to take me on a 5k run after you fill me up with sweets?" she grinned.

"I meant being out of bed is ample exercise." He crossed his arms and leaned forward on the table. "Prophets it's good to hear you laugh!" He looked her in the eyes. "You scared me you know.. I thought...I thought that I'd not see you again." He looked out at the dark water, flickering lights wavering across its surface.

Her smile faded as her mood became more serious. "I know. For a while there... well, I had a will ready, just in case."

He nodded. "It made me do a lot of thinking." He looked back at her, his face serious.

She took another sip of water and watched him curiously. "Oh?"

"About our friendship...and where it's going," he replied softly. He looked steadily into her eyes. "I made a mistake once...a very bad mistake. I need to tell you about it because I can't make the same mistake again." It sounded ominous, and perhaps it was, but he hoped that in telling her he could avert history from repeating itself.

It did sound ominous, enough that she could feel her internal defenses coming up. She had the feeling whatever he was going to say, she wouldn't like it.

The waiter arrived and presented a couple of menus, once again melting away with a smile and a slight bow. Benedict looked at the board of fare and back at Shirik.

Shirik turned her attention to the menu to pull it away from possible dark thoughts. She knew she probably shouldn't jump into anything too heavy, since she'd just gotten released and didn't want to end up back in sickbay any time soon. "Maybe something light... some seafood," she thought aloud. "Salmon sounds good. With a salad."

He nodded and smiled. "It's not bad," he said with a smile, looking at her above the menu, and not meaning the selection she'd made. "Honestly...but we need to talk about how we feel. Both of us." He waved at the waiter and they both paused the discussion until he'd taken the order. Benedict asked for salt and pepper squid, salad and a bottle of Summerwine. It would be his own personal bottle as he'd brought two into the holodeck with him. The man left and Benedict sat back.

"When I thought that you might not live, I realized that I cared for you a great deal." He gave her a smile. "We're friends, Shirik, and I think we could be close friends, but I have a shadow hovering over me from a previous friendship that makes me nervous about us."

She couldn't return his smile at the moment. Her defenses were up and she was wary, despite his reassurances. She thought she knew what he was going to tell her, but she said nothing, not wanting to jump to any conclusions. She nodded for him to go on, listening intently, her eyes studying his.

"To cut a very long and tedious story short, I had a close friend called Cathy Page. We were quite close, friendly, but she wasn't the kind of woman I could possibly fall in love with. I failed to see that she'd fallen in love with me." He looked at Shirik and shrugged. "Sometimes I'm blind to some things, I really didn't see it coming. It was when I was with Tebrianne. I think I was so much in love with Teb that I just didn't care about anyone else. I was blind and a little stupid."

Her suspicions were being confirmed, but still she said nothing, letting him finish the story and its point. Her expression now was neutral, unreadable, as she waited. She only nodded slightly and took another sip of water.

He could see the change in her expression, but he needed to explain things. "And sometimes I'm not stupid, or blind." He held her gaze and pushed on relentlessly. "Cathy abused my trust in her. She used me. She destroyed my relationship with Tebrianne and nearly killed me with an insane plot to try to make me love her. It didn't work - and she fled, taking with her my son. He hadn't been born yet - but somewhere, out there, is my son. He'd be five now - though I've never really thought of him as being mine. Cathy stole some of my DNA and used it to make a child. I think she hoped to make me love her through the baby. She was found out - and she vanished. She's been gone now for over five years and I've not seen nor heard of her."

What in the name of Tos was he trying to say, she wondered. Surely he wasn't trying to equate her with this insane woman he spoke of. Where was this leading? In that moment she decided if she ever crossed paths with that lunatic, blood would be shed. She waited for the punchline, as it were. For him to explain what that woman had to do with her, with them.

"I can see by the look in your eyes that I'd better get to the point," he smiled a little wryly. "I'm not saying that you and she are the same - or even remotely similar - just that the situation is similar and because of that, I'm feeling...well, I'm feeling that you need to know a little more about me and about my past. I don't want to repeat past mistakes. I don't want to hurt you because I was stupid...or blind." He held her eyes. "I suppose the biggest difference between you and Cathy - besides a lunatic frame of mind, is that given different circumstances - I could very much fall in love with you. I care greatly about you as it is...and I-I no longer know where that line is. I love Tayla, Shirik, and while I'm in that relationship I can't allow myself to cross any lines. I need to know that between us there's that understanding."

She relaxed fractionally. It hadn't been as bad as she was expecting. "Ben, that understanding was there the morning you came to the core and told me about her. Believe me when I say if there wasn't an understanding, you'd have been in my bed by now, because I'm used to getting what I want." She gave him a hint of a smile and her expression softened. "I know you love Tayla, and I know you are the kind of person that devotes all of yourself to a person. I'm not blind or stupid, either, and I know that even if I foolishly tried to come between that it would only bring pain to all involved." She stopped there. There were still a lot of things she needed to work out for herself, feelings she wasn't quite sure of yet. But she believed her words, even if she didn't completely feel them in her gut.

He chuckled and shook his head. "I'm glad I'm straight on that," he said softly. "I can think of much worse places to be than in your bed," he grinned. "I can't say that I haven't thought about it...what man wouldn't?" he asked wryly. "But you are right. I'm a one woman man - I can't be anything else." He held her eyes. "If Tayla and I hadn't...well you know. The feeling's mutual." He laughed.

Her smile faded once more and she nodded, turning her gaze to her water glass as she refilled it. She wasn't really sure why, but at that moment she felt a great sense of loss. "Tayla's a lucky woman," she said simply, taking a swallow.

He sighed. "Yeah, maybe...." He sounded doubtful. "We'll see." There was still the counseling yet. "Life is complicated by many things."

She raised an eyebrow at that. "Is something wrong?" she asked.

He smiled a little sadly. "Nothing I can talk about," he said. "There are some issues we have to work through is all. This crisis brought a few things to a head. You never know." He shrugged. He may well be single again soon, but looking at Shirik and the expression in her eyes, he wasn't going to say that to her. Not now.

She nodded. If he didn't want to talk about it, she wouldn't pry.

"Enough about my problems." He sat back. "I'm putting you in for a commendation." His smile returned. "I thought you should know."

She blinked at him, almost choking on her water. "Me? Why?" She certainly didn't feel as though she'd done anything to deserve one.

"Doing your duty is one thing...lying in sickbay and in the state you were in and still doing it - and doing something that helped to save the ship no less, is worthy of a commendation. I'm recommending it to Sam - after all he's the expert at what was done."

She shook her head. "No. All I did was relieve some boredom and work on some data you gave me. I don't want another award I don't deserve. Sorg is the one who deserves one, not me."

"Sorg did his duty," Benedict nodded. "Anyone else would have done the same, though there are rewards for doing one's duty too."

"Ahhh...but I couldn't have done mine if he hadn't done his so well," she grinned.

"And I wouldn't have the chance to have dinner with a lovely lady..." he grinned back at her.

"Here's hoping you have many more chances." She smiled back at him, but her thoughts were still pondering over what he'd said earlier, and more importantly, why he felt the need to say it. She studied him, as if perhaps she could read the answer in his eyes if she only looked hard enough.

"I hope so." He nodded. The food arrived along with a wine waiter who opened the bottle as their dishes were laid out. They both watched as everything was made ready for them to eat. Benedict tasted the wine, and nodded his approval and so it was poured for the both of them. When they had gone, Ben picked up his glass. "To life...and having more of it!" He grinned, and once again he was captured by the look in her eyes, the raw sexuality of her.

She smiled, raising her glass to clink gently to his. "I'll definitely drink to that," she said, her eyes sparkling as they met his. She brought the glass to her lips and sipped, her eyes staying on his for a lingering moment before turning to her meal.

He drank with her and as she started to eat he knew that he was okay with her. He didn't have to worry - she wouldn't be another Cathy Page. She was honorable in the same way as he, and though they were intensely attracted to each other, the boundaries would be respected. His assertions as to how he felt was more to make sure that he didn't open that particular door. It was fine to ignore a possible doorway to somewhere he might wish to go, but it would always be there - unless it was recognised for what it was and locked on purpose. He considered that door now well locked.

She thought about the conversation while they ate. To her mind, he was re-iterating what he'd told her before, that he loved Tayla and was exclusive with her. She wasn't sure why he felt the need to re-iterate to her. Perhaps he simply wanted her reassurance that she would not overstep her bounds in their friendship. She hadn't planned to since the first time he told her about Tayla, although she knew if he were to initiate anything, she certainly wouldn't say no. The control was his, to her mind. As long as he didn't want anything more, she wouldn't push anything onto him. But if he ever decided he did want more, she was there.

Still, that first dinner they had together haunted her. When they stood in the hallway outside her door, in that awkward moment, they could have kissed. Would have, if not for Tayla, she now was sure. She had waited for him to make the move, and it never came. Ever since, she had wished she'd taken the initiative that night. It would have been so easy to close that small gap between them, a gap that now seemed like a chasm as far as that sort of contact was concerned. He'd made it clear there would be no relationship beyond friendship with her, but when she lay in sickbay certain she was dying, she came to realize that at the very least before she died she wanted that one kiss she'd been robbed of. When it might come, she didn't know. But she would wait, and she knew eventually it would come.

The meal was wonderful. The wine equally good. The companionable silences were not too long, nor uncomfortable between them. They both seemed at ease with silence, yet talk wandered to and fro - mostly about work, the ship and the goings on in each department (though Benedict did not engage in gossip). By the time dessert was finished and Benedict sat back feeling replete in every sense, they had spent two hours together.

She relaxed in her chair, finishing off the wine in her glass. She was relaxed, had a slight pleasant buzz from the wine, a warm, full belly, was surrounded by beautiful scenery and had good companionship. "So," she said, gesturing with her glass for a refill. "What shall we discuss now?"

He filled her glass and topped up his own. Just as well he'd brought two bottles as the first was now gone. As he upended the bottle in the chiller a waiter took it and he nodded at the query for the other bottle. "Well...you could tell me about what it's like being a Princess on Drokar. I'd love to know more about you...well...everything actually," he smiled, feeling very comfortable.

She rolled her eyes with a chuckle. "What is it like being a Princess on Drokar... Well, not all are equal, you know. I'm Fifth Princess, which is really just a title. At home I don't have much political power of my own, although I can serve as a representative of the queen. I'm more important out here, simply because I'm the only one of my people out here. My sister, the First Princess, is the important one. She's the one who will become Queen, she's the one whose children will sit on the throne one day, and she's the one all the assassins will be gunning for."

She shrugged with a swallow of wine. "My family is the most wealthy on Drokar. We own all the land, we control the military and most of the industries, we speak for all our people in dealings with the galaxy beyond our world. I grew up in a palace, surrounded by servants who saw to my every need or desire, I never wanted for anything. I had my own bodyguards, men who would fight and die to make sure no harm came to me. I had the best clothes, the best foods, the best makeup and perfumes, the finest horses, the best servants... I'm so different now from who I was back then. My family won't recognize me any more... they won't like how I've changed."

"Why? What makes you so different?" He leaned forward, eager to listen to her tales of her home. "You're beautiful, smart, capable...every bit a princess."

She frowned slightly and took another drink from her glass. She didn't like talking about home, about how she was, because she knew things were different here, people were different. And she knew none of them would like her if she was still that way. But she wasn't... Ben wouldn't care, because she wasn't like that any more. Was she?

"Things are very different here in Starfleet," she said. "On my world, my word was law. I could do whatever I liked to pretty much anyone, and nobody could complain for fear of death. It took only my word to have someone executed if they displeased me. It took only my word to have someone plucked from the street or their home or the fields and brought to the palace for my amusements. When I finished with them, I could have them sent back to where they came from, or I could simply have them disposed of." She looked into her glass, watching the liquid in it swirling slightly. "I was spoiled, selfish, and had no concept of conscience. There were no consequences for my actions, I was like a god. The only person with power over me was my mother, the Queen, and for the most part, she allowed all of us girls to do as we pleased."

"That's a very heady wine to drink," he said seriously. "Ultimate power corrupts ultimately, and completely. I do not see that girl sitting in front of me now - but to have had that; to know what power truly is, that is a great gift - for with Starfleet comes the gift of responsibility." He smiled at her, for her admissions of a past steeped in that kind of moral corruption sounded guilty. She was perhaps ashamed of what she had done...? "I think that if you went back home, you would be more capable of rulership than your mother the Queen. Real rulership is an acceptance of total responsibility and the authority to exercise it with the best interest of the subjects as the first priority. I think that you would understand that."

"It's highly unlikely I'll ever see the throne," she said. "I have four sisters and their potential children in line ahead of me. My oldest sister is ruthless... She'll make well sure no one is in a position to stop her from getting the throne. She was pleased when I was sent away, even though I was no threat to her. Part of why my mother sent me away was for my own protection, and part was because I was the most expendable of her female children. If I died in unknown space, there would be no break in the line of ascension to the throne, since I'm at the end of that line. Still, that doesn't make me safe from potential assassination attempts. If one of my older sisters see me as a threat, they'll send someone after me. I'm far safer out here in space than I would be back home. Even with warp core breaches, self-destructs, and alien diseases." She smiled impishly.

He laughed at that observation, yet he was appalled at the barbarity of assassinations within her own family. "I'm glad you made it out of your world," he said seriously. "Now you might know what joys come with a family who share without looking to threats." He nodded. "Family is extremely important to me. To most Bajorans in fact. To Bajorans familial relationships are integral to our well-being and completion as an individual. There is nothing more important than family." He looked into her eyes, and the violet color was so much like his mother's. "You know you could be my mother's dark twin...she had hair a little longer than yours. If I'd had a sister, she might have looked a lot like you. Only lighter of course." He chuckled.

"Is that why you invited me to be your adopted sister?" she asked. "I've been considering that... but there's one thing that stops me from accepting. I have a brother back home, and we're fairly close, unusually so for my people. So I know what it feels like to have a brother and be close to him. But that's very different from what I feel for you. I don't have the same...attractions to my brother that I have to you. So I'm not sure if 'sister' is really an appropriate term. But I think I do like the idea of being considered some extended part of your family."

He grinned. "I don't believe I asked you to be my adopted sister...just that I considered you to be a part of my family. I don't think of you in terms of a sister either...certainly not a sister." He laughed. "No...not that...I wouldn't think of a sister in the same way as I...should shut my mouth before I get into trouble."

She laughed. "My point exactly. Although to the rest of my family, the thought of a Princess of Drokar treating or considering any offworlder an equal would be appalling. You wouldn't like the rest of my family very much, I'm afraid." She regarded him over the rim of her glass as she took another swallow. "No, these thoughts should definitely not be aimed at a brother..." she mused with a sly smile.

"I'll blush if you're not careful!" He laughed with her and took a drink of the Summerwine. It was chilled perfectly. "See!" He already felt the heat in his face.

She laughed. "Oh, you're easy to make blush. Good thing we're alone here, hmm?" she teased.

---

"Boundaries, Part 2"
By: Ensign Shirik Lektar, Operations
Lt Cmdr Benedict T'Kal, Chief of Security

Location: Officer's Lounge, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57908.23, 18h20

***

Shirik laughed. "Oh, you're easy to make blush. Good thing we're alone here, hmm?" she teased.

"What do they think of the Federation?" Benedict asked, getting back to safer ground. "Surely they have to admit that a star-spanning Federation of cultures is perhaps their equal - and more."

"My people have antiquated ideas about these things. I did too, before I got out here. But I've learned a lot serving in Starfleet, and these are things the others will have to learn too, or they'll never find their place in the galaxy. At worst, they may be conquered if they're not careful. That's one of my mother's primary concerns, especially given our proximity to Bajor and Cardassian space." She paused to take another sip of wine. "My mother doesn't think well of the Federation. The last news I heard was negotiations were not going well with them. I'm not sure exactly what's going on back home right now. But given what I know about my family's attitudes, and how the Federation works, friction was inevitable. I know they'll never be allowed membership unless there is a lot of change back on Drokar, and I know my mother isn't willing to make those kinds of changes. So I'm not sure what will happen."

"Civilizations come and go," he said, swirling his wine in the glass and watching the bubbles. "If they don't come out of their cultural dead-end they'll end up like the poor bastards on JJ324c." He looked up into her eyes. "We could offer so much to Drokar...education is only the start, but then your family's power base is maintained through ignorance."

Her expression darkened a bit. "The Federation isn't the only power in the galaxy, you know," she said. "My mother said the Federation wanted to withhold technology from us." She shrugged. "I'm not privy to everything that goes on during negotiations, that's my mother and my sister's department. But I think my mother wants to join the galactic community without having to entirely restructure our culture and political system to do it. And frankly, I don't think that's too much to ask."

"Of course not." He shook his head. "Federation citizenship holds us all equals; not some more equal than others. I'm afraid keeping slaves, having the majority of your world's population in bondage, subject to the petty whims of a spoiled aristocracy who could as easily have you slain as have you around as a pet...all that keeps you out of the Federation. I know a little about being under the heel of a regime like that. I didn't make a good slave - but I made a hell of a good executioner." His tone was dark as he surveyed her. "That's one thing we'll never see eye to eye on, Shirik. Do you realize that you represent the most dangerous threat to ever exist in your world? You've been educated on the concept of freedom. Of equality and fairness that doesn't exist on your world, you have plenty. That is dangerous. You carry the virus of freedom around with you now...you'd never be allowed to return. Your family depends upon ignorance, and you are no longer ignorant."

She watched the bubbles in her glass for a moment. "In truth, I never thought I'd go back once I joined Starfleet anyway. I'd never have the throne, I'd never really be anyone but a figurehead with a fancy title, and I'd have to duck assassins. I thought here, I'd have a chance to be something really important. The chance to use my talents and become something that has meaning, to make my own choices and become what I wanted to become, with no limitations. I know my mother had other ideas. She probably just thought she'd send me out here to learn all I could about the Federation and its secrets, then come home and teach her what I'd learned. But what I have learned I know she won't want to, and I don't want to go back to living the way I did before."

"Good," Benedict said with conviction. "You're more than that. Here you are important, and I don't want you to go back to living like that." He smiled to take the edge off his passionate convictions. "I believe in the Federation and everything it stands for."

She leaned closer to watch him and listen. "So tell me... what does it stand for, to you?" She was interested in his opinions and thoughts on this matter. She was still learning, after all, and she learned by asking questions and comparing ideas.

He grinned. "That's a long winded explanation you want there." He pondered the right way to answer it. "The Federation is a mixture of cultures and ideals, but more than that, it's a way of life. Respecting the individual while governing the whole. Trying to strive for something more worthwhile than individual gain - trying to understand the universe we live in and to get along peacefully with our neighbors. For me it was a promise of a new life. After my wife died I needed to start looking for something constructive rather than destructive. Starfleet saved me."

She nodded slowly, absorbing his answer. "A way to start over," she mused. "To become something new..." She took another sip of wine. This she understood, and in a way it was what she wanted from Starfleet also. A chance to be something different than she was, something better, perhaps.

He looked at her appraisingly and nodded. "Yes, a way for you to start over too." He smiled and his violet gaze was steady. "Though if you dared, you could be an instrument of great change on your world. You could bring enlightenment...change."

She smiled faintly. "Not unless I wanted to slay my sisters and mother and wrest the throne from them first," she said. "A Fifth Princess really doesn't have much say in anything, except with the Queen's backing."

"Revolutions aside...?" He grinned. "History can change in many ways."

"Perhaps," she said, taking another swallow from her glass. "Part of the fun of the present is seeing which future it ends up leading to."

"True," he laughed and drank more of his own wine. "So...tell me about Saavar." He held her gaze, teasingly smiling. "You haven't said anything.. and from what I hear he was with you in Sickbay an awful lot."

She blinked, his topic change taking her off-guard. "Saavar..." She looked into her glass, watching the bubbles. "Yes...we... We have a... relationship, of sorts." She wasn't sure how much to say, how to explain it, or whether she even should. But she trusted Ben.

It was all in the way she dropped her eyes and the hesitant way she admitted the relationship that let him know that it was something significant. "Uhuh." The sound was accompanied by a wide smile. "Of sorts?" he asked with a hint of teasing.

She frowned in thought, and finally decided to just speak plainly as always. "We're mate-bonded," she said, wondering if he even knew anything about Vulcans.

Benedict's jaw almost hit the table. He sat back with widened eyes and a slightly open mouth as if he'd been king-hit. He just stared at her for a long few seconds before his lips curled in a smile that spread across his face. "Do you know what you're in for?" his question was serious, although by the looks of his face she might have thought he was teasing again. He was shocked. Stunned. That wasn't sort of anything, it wasn't even close to sort of. He knew all about being mate-bonded. He'd been mate-bonded to Tebrianne. It was the most precious thing that could be given by a Vulcan or a Romulan, and it was for life. It even lasted after death...for a long...long...time. For a moment that stabbed his heart again. The loss of her was still keen - it always would be. After all, he carried her memories in his head as if they were his own. His eyes were saddened. "Do you really know what you're in for?" he asked more soberly.

She calmly took another sip from her glass. "It's a temporary arrangement, done out of necessity. When we return to the Alpha quadrant it will be over." But she wasn't quite sure of that. How could Saavar break their bond without bonding to another? And she was fairly certain he no longer wanted to re-establish his bond with T'Sirra, so... How long would she really have to wait until he found someone else to bond to?

"I don't love him," she said. "Nor does he love me. But we are both comfortable with the arrangement, for now."

"Ponn Farr?" he asked softly. The Ponn Farr was a very private Vulcan matter - the blood fever that struck every seven years. If it was out of necessity that would be the only necessity.

She nodded, glad they were alone for this conversation. "He'd have died otherwise," she said quietly. "It's been a very...unique experience, for both of us. One I'm sure will stay with us long after the bond itself is gone."

"Gone?" Benedict frowned. "I was mate-bonded to Tebrianne. It never goes away!" His eyes were serious, and his voice quiet. "Shirik, it's a telepathic meshing of minds. Taken to the mate-bond, it shares memories, everything. Do you think that will ever go away? I still relive Tebrianne's memories as if they were my own...and she's dead." The pain was there again, no matter what he tried to do. But at least it was dulled, it didn't tear his heart out anymore. It was just a dull ache of something he'd lost.

She frowned slightly. "I don't know. I only know that Saavar will bond to someone else, eventually. What we have now is only for now, and only because it was necessary to prevent his death. We both know and accept that." She saw the look on his face. Would she have that look when Saavar rebonded? No...this was different. She didn't love Saavar, certainly not like Ben loved Tebrianne.

"The mate-bond is just that, Shirik. It's a bond. The more you meld minds the more the line between you blurs. You pick up memories from each other, language; I can speak Romulan fluently as if it was my own mother tongue. I know what it's like to be Tebrianne, just as you will know what it's like to be Saavar. To know him so intimately that there's no other option than to love, because he becomes you and you become him. It's a life-bond. Vulcans mate for life, Shirik. Perhaps Saavar did what he had to to survive and you were willing - but in the end it comes out the same. You may not love him now, but you will." There was absolute certainty in Benedict's voice. "Close your eyes and feel him, he's always there...always. Just as you will always be there for him too. The loss of that presence is devastating...it takes a part of you with it when it leaves. I can imagine what it's done to his wife."

She just stared at him as her insides went cold. What had she done? Was it true? Was she now doomed to love someone she didn't want to love? She knew one thing was true - Saavar was there. She could feel him, even now. Before, it had brought her comfort, now she was afraid of it. But she refused to consider saving Saavar's life a mistake.

"No..." she said quietly, as her inner fire ignited, dispelling the cold. "I do not love him, and I will not love him. Ever," she said. She would not let this bond consume her, control her, melt her heart and reshape it that way. She had not chosen Saavar for life, she did not want him forever. She closed her eyes and drank down the rest of her wine in one swallow.

Benedict watched her silently. When she'd finished her drink he reached over and patted her hand. "I'm going to talk to Saavar. I'll know the truth of it from him." His voice was cold, the voice of a Security Chief.

Her eyes opened. "What do you mean?" she asked, suddenly protective of Saavar. "He didn't do anything wrong. I offered." True, she'd only offered sex at the time, and hadn't realized what she'd gotten into, but even now, she didn't regret it. She couldn't have stood by and watched Saavar die. Did Ben think it had been intentional on Saavar's part? That he'd wanted Shirik for his own, and this was the way to have her? No, she couldn't believe anything like that. Surely she'd have seen it, inside Saavar, during their melds. He couldn't hide things from her now...could he?

She had the intense urge to get up and just flee. Away from the situation, the people, her own confused emotions. But there was nowhere to run to. She clung to her empty glass as if it was a life line.

He could see her face had drained of color, it was slightly greyer, and her eyes were panicked. He took hold of her hand and made her look at him by shaking it slightly. "Hey, I didn't mean to scare you. I have a limited experience with mind-melds, Tebrianne wasn't exactly an expert. We melded so many times...especially when we made love. It heightens the experience, but it also opens your mind to feelings. It's hard to explain, but you are one person not two...and you will start to think of yourself as one person. That's the way it was for me. I still feel sometimes like one half of me is missing. Maybe it is different with Saavar. Maybe he knows how to control a meld more than Teb did."

She wasn't much comforted by that, because she knew the truth. Saavar was no expert with melds, which was how he got into the situation to begin with with Xayella. He was half-Romulan, like Tebrianne, too.

Her eyes found his once more as he shook her hand. "But you loved Tebrianne before, didn't you?" she asked. "She didn't make you love her by melding, did she?" She could understand, though, the power behind what she had with Saavar. If she'd had any feelings at all for him before they melded, she could see how very easy it would be to simply let go and fall deeply in love with him. But she hadn't. She'd never thought of him as more than a friend, a teacher, and even now she didn't love him. She still thought of him as a very close friend, a sexual partner, but not someone she loved.

"Yes, I loved her very much before we did that." The admission made him rethink things. It was difficult to determine which came first after so long, but he knew that he loved her before they melded. He smiled, the memory of their first melding was still strong. "Yes," he said more softly. "I loved her before we melded. The meld simply made it far stronger...she's still in my memories...still there...though the presence is diminished...like a ghost of what it was. I used to dream about her...strong dreams that we were still bonded even after her death. That she cried out to me from some far away place. But it's gone now. I don't have those dreams anymore."

She relaxed a bit. Surely that made all the difference, she thought. "Then, perhaps it will be different for us, because we didn't love each other before." She watched Ben's face, the expression in his eyes. She could see the depth of that love in them. She hoped someday she would know what that kind of love felt like. She was certain it wouldn't be with Saavar. "You've begun to heal and move on," she said softly. Of course he had, he had love all over again. "You're lucky."

He smiled. "Yes, I suppose I am," he said softly. He nodded and realized that he was still holding her hand. He let it go somewhat self-consciously. "I'm in love with Tayla - although it can never be the same as Tebrianne, in the same way I mean, I still feel that depth with Tayla. You can love someone completely without the need for a mind meld. It adds to the mystery I suppose. We aren't meant to discover everything about the ones we love. There has to be some hidden places...some new discoveries that you make along the way. Love would be so boring otherwise." He grinned. "Tayla always seems to surprise me. Sometimes I may not like the surprise...but she still does. I love her in a different way than I loved Tebrianne. We shared our music, Tayla and I share something more spiritual. I feel it that way anyway." He looked back at Shirik. "It must be a Bajoran thing." He laughed.

Shirik had been aware that her hand was still in his, but she didn't mind. She nodded at him, but she couldn't possibly understand all that he meant. "I know nothing of love of that sort," she said. "I only know how happy those who are in it seem to be. I hope someday I can experience that for myself." She refilled her glass once more when he let go of her hand. "Back home, most marriages are arranged. It's not very often a married couple truly loves one another. My mother and father never loved the way you speak of. I don't personally know anyone who has, from back home."

"I'm so sorry." He thought about how she felt about him, and knew that if he'd met Shirik - maybe before Tayla, but most certainly if Tayla hadn't been around, then they might well have started to explore such emotions. He felt a twist of guilt at talking about it. "I hope that you will feel it. I know that you are capable of it - and believe me when I tell you that there are plenty of men who would adore you in that way. Love is easy. All you have to do is surrender to it. That's the hardest part, but knowing that you would give everything you had for that person's happiness...knowing that you care for someone more than you care for yourself...it is liberating. You'll feel it one day. I'm sure you will."

"Well, I have plenty of time to find it, I suppose," she said, sipping from her glass. "In the meantime, I've been content with what I have with Saavar."

Benedict smiled, looking into her violet eyes that seemed more guarded than before. He nodded, momentarily lost for words. He took a drink of his own wine and looked about the small restaurant. It wasn't busy now, they had talked for a couple of hours and he was conscious of the time limits imposed upon their holodeck time. He waved at the attendant. She came over straight away with a beaming smile.

"Oui, Monsieur?" she asked in a pretty French accent. She shot Shirik an appraising look then put her eyes back on Benedict.

"Coffee please." He looked at Shirik with a raised brow.

"Madame?" The attendant gave her a smile. "Would you care to see a dessert menu?"

"I'd love to have something with chocolate in it, and a big mug of klaas..." she smiled.

"Of course." She turned to Benedict.

"Just coffee," he said and looked at Shirik. "Please...not that foul smelling brew. It really is offensive. It's enough to make my stomach turn." He looked at the attendant and said, "The lady will have a hot chocolate, and the chocolate mousse."

The girl laughed and nodded and left the table without checking with Shirik. Ben just sat back with a grin. "It smells horrible...and what it does to your breath...eeeewww." His face made a show of his apparent distaste.

She visibly deflated. With a shrug, she finished her wine. "As you wish."

He laughed at the look on her face, and said, "Shirik, I'm teasing you!"

She eyed him. "Oh... I didn't know." She pushed the empty wine glass aside and turned her gaze out over the dark waters beside them. "Sometimes I find it hard to tell when you're teasing."

"Oh? I'd never guess." He smiled at the dark skinned woman and in a more serious tone he said, "I'm sorry."

"It's all right," she said. But he hadn't been the first to make such a comment. She remembered her last breakfast with Sorg, and his teasing words.

She turned her attention back to Ben, a bit fuzzy now from all the wine. Looking at him, her smile returned. She found she couldn't stay annoyed or angry with him for long. "So...next I get high on chocolate."

Benedict laughed softly. "You know some species are actually known to do just that...get high and some find it to be an aphrodisiac. Is the Drokari metabolism like that too?"

A small grin found her lips and slowly grew as her eyes sparkled mischievously. "I guess we'll soon find out, won't we...?" she purred.

"I guess we will." He grinned, and for some unknown reason, felt his face coloring as he blushed.

She laughed softly. "You're so easy to make blush. I can only assume you're thinking naughty thoughts," she teased.

"No...I wasn't...honest!" He laughed. "It was just...well...you're a dark chocolate color. Just word associations that's all." He laughed. She didn't need an aphrodisiac!

Her laugh got louder. "I was right, it was naughty thoughts!" She raised her arm to examine her skin tone. "Actually, it's black, not chocolate colored..." she mused.

"Dark chocolate...liquorice? With a hint of spice." He was still laughing.

She grinned. "Sounds...yummy."

"I'm sure it is...but it's not on the menu. I think it would be called Death by Chocolate..." He chuckled. "Better than ice-cream...very smooth...but with a bite to it." His violet eyes were filled with mirth and his cheeks still held color.

"Is there such a thing?" she grinned. "I'll definitely have to try it sometime. So what is this chocolate thing they're going to be bringing me... moose? Isn't that a large Earth herbivore?"

"You'll see." He laughed and even as he spoke the attendant was returning with coffee and her mug of hot chocolate and a large bowl of mousse topped with cream and strawberries. As the attendant left he said, "Taste that."

She eyed the confection and plucked a cream-covered berry from the top of it, taking a slow, lingering bite of it while eyeing Ben playfully. "Mmmm...."

He watched her lips engulf the fruit and the teasing look in her eye and chuckled. She was purposely teasing and he was damned lucky they were alone in a holodeck. The raw sexuality of her was like receiving a broadside from a Romulan War Bird. He felt as if his shields were down and he was ripe for a boarding party! He sat back, unconsciously trying to get out of tractor range and grinned. "Tease," was the only shot he could get off.

She laughed. "It's all I'm allowed," she shot back, giving him a wink as she devoured the rest of the small fruit, and licked the cream from her fingers.

"Yes it is!" he affirmed with a laugh. "Taste the mousse, it's divine."

She did just that, taking a creamy spoonful and slipping it between her lips. "Mmmm...that is good," she purred, scooping up another spoonful with some cream. "Why didn't you have any dessert?"

"It's more fun watching you have yours," he teased, taking a sip of the dark coffee.

She laughed. "Then I'll be sure to give you something entertaining to watch," she teased, making a slow erotic show of every spoonful, bite, or lick as she made her way through her dessert and the hot steamy cocoa, watching him all the while with her violet gaze.

---