"Dashed Hopes, Distant Dreams"
By: Ensign Kit Markham
Ensign Amy Reese

Location: Brig, USS Sulu
Stardate 57910.23, 01h00

***

Kit Markham rushed into the brig, frantically looking around him. "Where is she? Where's Amy?"

George Glickman, the security officer on duty, looked Kit up and down then stepped to block the path back to the cells. "She's in a bit of trouble," he said. "Aided Emma Summers in unleashing a virus on the ship, then was ready to just fly off with her."

Kit frowned. "I'm her...I'm her friend...and I love her. I think I'm still her fiancé, but...but I'm not certain. Can I please see her?"

George glanced back behind him, and then returned his gaze to Kit. "Not sure," he said. "She was fairly hysterical when they brought her in. I think she'll be spending quite a bit of time with counsellors."

"That's nice," Kit said, growing impatient, "but I would like to see her now."

There was a long, silent pause as Glickman thought it over, weighing the possibilities. "You have ten minutes. Cell three."

"Thanks," Kit murmured and pushed past the security officer and into the hallway lined with brig cells. He rushed to cell three where he found Amy, her back to the hallway, laying on the small, uncomfortable-looking bed. Kit swallowed, as if that might make the runabout sized lump that had filled his throat go back down. "Amy?"

She was still and silent, and Kit opened his mouth to call out again, but Amy halted him as she sluggishly rolled over onto her other side. Her eyes opened slowly, and when they found him, there was only disinterest there before she closed them once more. "Are we home?" she whispered.

In that look, nearly all of Kit's hopes fell. "Yes," he said. "We're home. We made it back to our own universe. Amy...what happened? What happened to you? It's me...it's Kit."

"I know who you are," she mumbled. "It's who you're not that I'm more interested in." Her face screwed up into a knot and a high-pitched, thin whimper escaped. Amy wrapped her arms around her head, burying herself entirely in darkness. "Where did she go? Why didn't she take me with her?"

Kit frowned. "Who?"

Amy groaned and threw her arms away from her face as she pushed upright. "Emma! Where's Emma!"

"She's gone, Amy," Kit said. "She joined T'Briane on the Windsor most likely. She's in the alternate universe still. She tried to murder Commander Lyrr and all the Bajorans on the ship."

The revelation elicited the most pathetic, crestfallen expression from Amy that Kit had ever witnessed. Her eyes grew distant and her mouth struggled to form words. "She...left me? The baby...and...and our wedding...." She sobbed weakly and again curled up on the bed. "I don't understand... What did I do wrong?"

"She probably used you, Amy," Kit said softly. "Like she used everyone. I heard she was only here to get back at Commander T'Kal, to hurt him for choosing Tebrianne instead of her. She probably went after Commander Lyrr because she's with T'Kal now. Is that the type of person you'd want to be with? Someone who releases a plague on the ship? It probably wasn't you at all, Amy. She's probably just so filled with hate for him that she's not capable of loving anyone, no matter how lovable you are."

"She loved me!" Amy hollered. "And I loved her! We were going to be together - no one was going to stand in our way!" She sobbed plaintively. "Not even you...."

Kit nodded. "If she loved you as much as you say," he said, "why didn't she take you with her? Why didn't, as one of her demands for release, she say that you should be brought to the shuttle bay so you two could be together? She used you, Amy. She may have said she loved you, but she left you behind." He shrugged. "They say you're the one who gave Lyrr the shot that infected her with the virus. Did Emma give you the hypospray for Lyrr's shot?"

Amy watched him through defiant, tearful eyes. "She did, and for Emma, I would do it again even if I knew what was in that hypo. For her, I would've done anything! She would've done the same for me. Not like you," she spat. "You're always holding me back, always making me feel worthless. Why couldn't you have gone and Emma stayed!"

"Can you hear what you're saying, Amy? You'd willingly try to murder Commander Lyrr for Emma? What did she do to you?" He shook his head and took a step back. "I just want to love you, Amy. But, I guess that's done now. She brainwashed you, turned you into...whatever this is. I'm sorry, Amy. I'm sorry for whatever hurt I caused you, that made you turn to a psychopath for solace, and become one yourself. I'm sorry I couldn't have been the lover, the fiancé that you wanted. I'm just me." He started to go, but stopped. "And, the reason I'm here and she isn't is because she fled the ship to be with like-minded people, people who enjoy torment and pain, and making others suffer. Hopefully you'll realize sometime soon...otherwise, it's going to get very lonely in here."

"Then just leave," she snarled, lunging at him, but stopping short before the forcefield could repel her. "All you ever did was make me feel horrible about who I was! You were trying to kill my spirit - Emma said so, and she's right!" Amy's wild gaze skewered him as she yanked the ring upon her finger free. She held it up between two fingers, peering at Kit through the opening. "Your shackle," she spat and tossed it at him. It rebounded off the energy field and gave a dissonant clang when it hit the deck to roll away beneath her cot. "Now...leave."

Kit watched her impassively. "Emma said so," he said. "Emma this, Emma that. All she did was make you incapable of thinking for yourself. You need help, Amy. Serious help." He tapped his communicator. "Kelli, play that audio recording, would you?"

"Of course, Kit," Kelli answered. She'd explained the situation to him when he came aboard, having witnessed it from the bridge.

"She says you promised her things, Ms. Page," the voice of Commander Lyrr Tayla was saying, "love, a future together.... If you leave without her, won't you effectively be destroying the girl?"

"And I'm supposed to care?" snapped back the voice of Emma Summers/Cathy Page. "What's a woman's career against my life? I'm not about to fall prey to the same weakness that wracks you, Lyrr. T'Kal's life is going to be very short - if he isn't dead already trying to secure your freedom. He'd give his life for yours in an instant wouldn't he? He loves you. I know all about that...and now Tebrianne has come back. Do you think he'll stay with you when she's here? Do you? She's a mind witch, Lyrr. She's always had him under her spell. But then you could always let him die too...go out together. Wouldn't that be romantic? Do you love him enough to let him live, Lyrr?"

"And don't you love me enough, Emma?" cried Amy's own voice from the recording. "You said we'd be together, and now you're leaving me? You lied!"

"I had to change plans, Amy," Emma continued. "I'm sorry. I didn't think that you'd still care for me once you learned the truth. It's best this way. I'm so glad that you'll die screaming, Lyrr."

"Your conscience is obviously in conflict, Ms. Page - there's no need to take that out on me, or our Ensign Reese. If we could have a moment alone together, I'd be glad to discuss the conditions of your surrender."

"Very well, Lyrr. A private discussion would be best. As for surrender; sorry, but that's not an option."

"Emma, please!" Amy wailed. "Take me with you! The baby...we have to raise the baby, remember?"

"I'm sorry, Amy. There's not going to be a baby to raise."

"What?" The desperation in Amy's voice was clear. "Emma...please," she whimpered. "We have to be together. We have to!"

"Thanks, Kel," Kit said softly, then turned back to Amy. "Someday, Amy, you'll wake up from this delusion. You'll realize what she did to you, that she used you and turned you into something ugly. If you need a friend, I'll be around. There are people onboard who still love you...just remember that." With that, he turned and walked out.

The Brig officer on duty looked away from the door once Markham disappeared behind it, cast a queer gaze in Amy's direction, then returned focus to his console with a shake of his head. Amy scowled at him - another person who couldn't possibly understand what she and Emma had. For all she knew, the recording was a fake, and the words she, herself, had spoken voiced by another. She couldn't recall that incident on the bridge, she couldn't recall anything but Emma's smile, her touch....

Whimpering pitiably, Amy drew herself into a ball upon the cot once again. If she could disappear within the protection of her arms circling her head, just as well; if she could die, all the better.

---

"Just Breathe"

Ensign Ainsley Chambers; Counselor
Ensign Mason Farrell; Operations Officer

Location: USS Sulu, the Swamp
Stardate: 57910.23 01h02

***

"I'm just so," Farrell murmured, "knotted up." Elbows on knees, sitting next to Ainsley on his couch, talking to the floor more than to her, he thought a moment before continuing. She let him talk. Let him rid himself of it.

"I have never felt about anyone the way I feel about you," he said quietly, looking up only enough to see that she was still sitting there. He hadn't been able to look directly at her for an hour. "All I've wanted to do from the moment we got captured was protect you. Shield you." He shook his head. "And I. . . I looked straight at you. A you, and asked you to allow yourself to be beaten and. . . raped." He had to force himself to say the last word, and it was barely audible. He stopped talking then for a long time. "I put you in harm's way. I convinced you. Me. I was asked once if I had a limit, and I answered yes. But after. . . I just don't know anymore. If I can do that to you, is there anything I'm not capable of?"

She wanted to weep for him. If the story he'd just told her was true, and she had little doubt it was, he had every reason to want to beat himself up. Of course, he had no good reason to actually do so, and the fact that he was doing it anyway was wrenching.

"Mason," she whispered gently, taking her hand from her lap and lightly rubbing his back. "Mason, honey, it's alright now."

"How?" he half-laughed, asking the rug rather than Ainsley. "How can it be alright?" He glanced at her knee. "I lied and I stole. I put people in harm's way. I killed. What kind of man have I become? Where's my limit?"

"Come here," she murmured, tugging him slightly toward her. He leaned sideways into her, and she just held him. He was trembling, and it took him a few moments to respond to her embrace with one of his own. He took a rasping breath, then, and it was then she realized he was crying.

She let him cry, and cry he did. A man like Mason, she knew fully, did not cry easily or often, and he was probably dumping years of baggage right here. His tears came from a place somewhere deep in his soul, and she just held him and cooed gently in his ear and let him let it all go.

"Just breathe," she whispered at last, his sobs receding into intermittent shudders. She kept her own eyes closed to keep her own tears back. "Just breathe."

"When I was on the station," he rasped into her shoulder through his tears. "When I beat that man down. For just a second, I belonged. I was one of them, Ainsley. And it felt," he whispered, "good."

She closed her eyes to keep her own tears back.

"God, Ainsley, who am I?" he asked. She could hear the fear in his voice, quivering and tiny.

"You are Mason Farrell," she whispered, glad to whisper. She didn't think her voice could carry normally without cracking. He clutched her tighter. "You are the Operations Supervisor for Beta shift on the USS Sulu. You are a Starfleet Officer, and a citizen of the United Federation of Planets. You were born in McNary, Texas. You have three brothers and a sister. And I love you."

They sat on the couch for a long time, holding each other, fighting not to cry anymore. Finally, Mason took a deep breath to compose himself, and pulled away to find a tissue and wipe his face. "I'm sorry," he said.

"For what?" she smiled, wiping one eye as he was turned away.

"For dumping this on you," he answered. "You've had plenty of troubles of your own lately, with the enforcers and all. You don't need to carry all my problems, too. I mean," he shook his head, "I'm supposed to be able to just do my duty and deal with it." He thought a moment. "Of course, I reckon we both are," and he added hastily, "and I don't mean that you wouldn't be able to just do your duty and deal with it. You- -"

"Mason," she interrupted.

"What?"

"You're babbling."

"Yeah," he said quietly, rubbing an eye and looking down again. "Sorry."

"Don't be," she shook her head, then reached to touch his cheek. He turned his head to her, and she stroked his ear as she spoke.

"I'm not made of glass, Mason," she said. "I'm a big girl. If anything, I'd say you need to stop trying to protect me so much. And I'm a counselor. It's my job to help carry your troubles."

"I just. . . I love you," he said.

"And I love you," she echoed, smiling. This was the real Mason she was finally seeing. Not the cocksure rebel. Not the angry iconoclast. This was the man. The ordinary man whose duty had taken him to dangerous places and forced him to do terrible things. The man who loved her. It still thrilled her to hear it, but she had to focus. He deserved her focus now. "And I love that you love me. Please understand that the woman you dealt with on the station wasn't me. You recognize that, don't you?"

"But it was you," Mason answered.

"Okay," she conceded, "it was a me. But it wasn't me me. It wasn't the Ainsley Chambers who loves Mason Farrell. It wasn't the Ainsley Chambers you taught to dance. It wasn't the Ainsley Chambers who took you diving on Risa."

Mason smiled, and she carried on. "Whoever that was, it wasn't me. And whoever it was, she made her choices and did what she decided to do." She leaned closer and held his gaze tenderly. "We can't control other people's decisions, Mason. And it's not our fault when they do things we'd rather they not do. Hadek and Drake, and that poor confused Emma made their own choices. I can't change them, and I won't deny I was scared out of my wits while I was in that shuttle with them; but ultimately, I just feel sorry for them, and for the poor choices they made that led them to do what they did."

"Even if it wasn't you," Mason protested weakly, "it doesn't change that I convinced a woman to let herself be completely violated to serve my own purposes."

Ainsley shook her head, her hand not leaving his cheek. "And what purposes were those?"

"I needed to get minefield access codes, and she knew the man who had them. I wanted her to," he'd had a hard enough time saying it the first time, and he wasn't about to repeat it, "keep him occupied while I copied his codes."

"From what you've told me, you didn't realize the--" she hesitated. This was the part that made her stomach knot. "Alternate-Thomas was such a sadist. Is that true?"

He nodded.

"Then ultimately, it's not your fault. She made her choice." In truth, it was a choice that terrified Ainsley, but Mason was having enough trouble without her airing that here. Was the Thomas of this universe capable of that level of cruelty? It was a frightening thing to consider, but she had other things to deal with right now.

"But she chose based on my pitch," Mason replied.

"I would find it hard to believe that she didn't know the risks, given the line of work she was engaged in," Ainsley said softly. Mason looked thoughtful, and she pressed her point. "You did what you had to do to save us all. It wasn't something out of a storybook; you didn't ride out and slay a dragon or fight a bandit horde. But you did what had to be done in order to get the Sulu home. You can't fault yourself for it."

"I left her to die," he said, his voice small and far away. "I left them both to die."

"Mercy," she replied gently. He looked at her questioningly. "I think we both understand just how bad life is in that reality-just how cheap life is. You probably did her a favor by letting her die on the station. At least," Ainsley hesitated slightly, suppressing a shudder, "at least she won't have to be abused again."

Mason thought a long time, just staring into her eyes. She tried to fill hers with all the loving tenderness she could muster. She'd said all she could. It was up to him now. This was the part she hated about counseling. There was a point where you had to stop--where nothing more could be done. And that point came much sooner than in, say, a physical medical treatment, where a doctor could stay with a patient until a problem was corrected. Counseling had no such luxury. No problem's solution could be guaranteed. So she held her breath and hoped, having said all that could be said.

He lifted a hand to hers, and moved her hand so he could kiss her palm. "Thank you," he breathed.

"For what?" she asked, a weight lifting from her.

"For being here."

"I'm certainly not leaving," she smiled.

Mason smiled back. "I appreciate that. I ought to let you get to bed, though. Thanks for listening."

"Anytime," she said, smiling warmly, then cocked her head toward Mason's bedroom. "Do you have room for two?"

Mason looked confused. "Come again?"

"I told you I'm not leaving," she answered. "The last thing you need is to be alone tonight."

Mason started to speak, then stopped, then tried again, and stopped. Finally, he managed, "Are. . . are you sure? After everything that I've just told you, are you sure?"

"I've never been more certain of anything," she answered, drawing him in for the kiss she had wanted to continue ever since their moment in the shuttle bay the night before.

The way through the living room and into the bedroom was a blur of synchronized motion and emotionally charged kisses. Clothing landed on the floor, and they landed on his bed, fitting their bodies together. He kissed her everywhere an enforcer had touched, washing away her pain and her fear. She held him and kissed him deeply, drawing away his grief and his guilt. Skin met skin, and soul met soul in a passionate consummation of deep, abiding love. Time stopped moving. The past stopped mattering. All that remained was the commitment, the affection, the realization of their love for one another, and their lovemaking brought them more of it all.

He felt her clench, her entire body tensing. Her eyes closed tight, and her mouth opened as if to scream. Only a gasping whimper emerged; a sound of exquisite, overwhelming, earthshattering pleasure.

Her arms locked high across his back and she hooked her ankles lower around him, as if she could merge their bodies further by pulling him even closer. Nails raked his back, and then a hand flung outward and clutched a handful of bedsheet. She drew a stuttering breath and exhaled with a sigh as he kissed her throat.

"You are so beautiful," Mason whispered.

"Do that again," she breathed.

"Yes, ma'am," he answered slowly, and went back to work.

After a glorious eternity that was nevertheless entirely too short, she felt the ecstasy build again. This time, though, it was accompanied by a shift in Mason's breathing, which grew more ragged and urgent. Overwhelmed, she clutched him to her again and they rode the wave out together, their bodies slowing in unison as the crest ebbed. They laid still for a time after that, foreheads touching, panting to catch their respective breaths.

"Of course, you're pretty good at this yourself," Mason quipped breathlessly. "You sure this is new to you?"

"Completely," she nodded absently, nibbling her lip to get feeling back into it. She was probably hyperventilating. But who cared?

Just breathe, she thought to herself. This was glorious, and she wasn't about to let it end. She kissed him again then, drawing him back to her for more.

After, when blankets had long since been kicked away, sweat had cooled and dried, and they again could catch their breath, he lay on his back, and she lay on top of him, her ear against his chest. She smiled as she listened lazily to his heart beat slow in pace as he relaxed.

"Ainsley?" he whispered after a time.

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

"For what?" she asked, looking up at him, smiling at the exchange that had now become habitual for them.

"For loving me," he said, the words barely audible, his eyes conveying the message far more profoundly than his voice.

"Well, that's what you get for loving me," she replied, her look equally meaningful.

They smiled in unison and he stroked her cheek with the back of a finger as he whispered, "Then I will never stop."

---

"There's No Place Like Home"

CPO Calyca Llewellyn Boothroyd
Crewman 1st Class Sorg Jurell

Location: Sickbay, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57910.23, 01h30

***

The man that stepped into Sickbay in the late hours of the night looked like he was afraid of being there. Sorg Jurell hated Sickbay. He hated the smell, the sounds, the very atmosphere of the place of healing. It wasn't so much that he disliked doctors or nurses or medical in itself; it was the sheer fact that to be in sickbay meant you had to be sick. In his profession, being sick usually meant being shot, stabbed, bashed, bruised or otherwise physically impaired, and it was almost an aversion to the thought of being unfit for duty in that way. It was worse when it was someone he knew in sickbay, and when he'd checked with the computer for the whereabouts of a certain red-headed girl and found that she was being tended to - his first thought had been wounded in action.

Her mission had been dangerous in the extreme, and Jurell had felt his heart literally stop in his chest and the whole world he knew suddenly stop still as if time and space had been suspended in the moments that it had taken for the computer to tell him that she was recovering. He'd experienced true fear for perhaps the first time in his life. It had shaken him badly.

Now he stood in the threshold of Sickbay not knowing how he should approach the biobed upon which Calyca lay. He could see her darkened outline under the silvered sheet that draped her and his eyes had strayed to the bio-readings above her to see that they were all in the green. He did know that much...green lights. He watched her breathe for a moment and that seemed to ease the ache in his chest.

A deep breath later and his legs started him moving toward the bed, silent treads that almost startled a nurse as she turned from another patient. He smiled at her and something about the worried look in his eyes made her smile and nod at him. "Don't stay long," she whispered. "She needs rest. But if your name is Jurell, she was asking for you while she was still under sedation." The woman laid a hand on his arm and squeezed. "She'll be okay."

Jurell nodded his thanks and walked over to the bed. He stood beside her for a while, staring at her while she seemed to sleep and he gently took her hand, sliding the slender fingers inside his own larger hand. Her skin was warm and the simple contact made his chest hurt for some reason he couldn't fathom, but he had subconsciously been anticipating this contact from the moment they had transported back to the Nightingale. He stroked her hand with fingers that trembled and he had to swallow a lump in his throat that threatened to make him choke. She looked so peaceful. The desire to hear her voice and see the green of her eyes warred with the desire to let her rest.

They'd left her on her stomach after the surgery. Her hair was in total disarray, the red curls laying against the pale skin of her face and neck, blocking the majority of her features from his view and attesting to her earlier attempts at movement. Spidey-003 was crouched at the head of the bed, staying out of the way even while he monitored her condition and sent reports to the other spiders online. Something that had Watson 'pacing' back and forth over Sorg's shoulders.

Her hand lay limply in his until several moments after his fingers began stroking it. He watched as the sensation registered and caused a frown to pull at her lips, a soft grunt to escape at their slight parting, and her fingers to finally, and weakly, flex in his. The bracelet he'd fastened on her before the mission was still there, glinting in the subdued light as it encircled her pale and delicate looking wrist. It was the light catching the metal that drew his eyes and he brushed the cool silver, gold and platinum links with a finger.

Watson chattered softly when Caly moved and Jurell extended his arm slightly to allow the little metal spider to crawl down his arm and drop to the bed where it hunkered down to watch her, inching closer until it could stretch out a foreleg and touch her arm, its tricorder-like functions taking their own readings and relaying them to the rest of the spiders online.

Jurell brushed a strand of dampened curl away from her cheek and bent to kiss her softly on the brow, causing another soft grunt to escape her on an exhale of breath. The scent of her hair was still familiar and he inhaled as he brushed his lips against her skin again, slightly tightening his hold on the hand in his.

Her fingers jerked involuntarily and she blinked open her eyes. Liquid pools of pale sea foam green struggled for a moment to focus on his features. He could see the confusion that fogged her mind for several seconds while she struggled to recall where she was. Dressed as he was she couldn't help wondering for a few scary moments if she was somehow still on the station and this was the other Sorg Jurell, the Butcher of Betazed.

Her lips parted and quivered for a moment before she whispered an unsteady, "Where am I?"

He smiled with such relief at hearing her voice that he pressed his cheek against hers a brief moment before whispering, "Sickbay." He stroked her hair as he hunched down beside the bed so that his eyes were level with hers. "We're back home, and everyone got back in one piece." He gazed into her eyes for a long moment. "Prophets you scared me... Watson's been worried about you," he grinned. "I missed you."

Her sigh of relief was quite audible. It was her Jurell and not the other one. "Watson is a worry wort." Her voice was a bit steadier sounding the more she used it. She tugged erratically at her hand until he released it, then pulled it to his face, her movements stilted and awkward until her fingers finally touched his lips. "Jurell is a worry wort too." The corners of her lips quirked upwards in a small smile. "I missed you."

He kissed her fingertips and smiled in return. "I don't think they'll let me carry you out of here this time," he said softly. "The nurse said I can't stay long. You need sleep...but I had to see you."

"I've been sleeping." She brushed her fingertips over the fullness of his lower lip. "I'm glad you came," she told him, smiling faintly. "Do you think they'd stop you? You could always bring me back in the morning."

"Don't tempt me, girl," he chuckled, taking her hand again and brushing her fingers with his, knowing that she really meant it and knowing too that she'd be awake half the night, driving herself crazy with inactivity if she wasn't sedated. "If I thought for a second I could get away with it." He grinned. "Watson will keep you entertained. I think he's dying to tell you all about our little adventure. Though I think the nurse has another idea about what you should be doing."

She glanced down to the mechanical spider at the mention of his name and smiled at him a little before turning her gaze back to capture Jurell's with their haunting green depths. She studied his face for long moments and it dawned on her that he was probably tired himself. "The nurse is a bigger worry wort than you and Watson," she told him, smiling a little. "You're tired," she finally said, studying the fine lines around his eyes. "How much tempting would I have to do?"

"I wish I could," he said with a sigh, "but you're best staying here. I hate to leave you, so if you want me to, I'll stay right here. But you have to rest. I'll catch up with sleep later...besides, I know you. I'd hate for you to fall out of this bed and hurt yourself!"

The nurse came over and placed a hand on Jurell's shoulder as he knelt by the bed. "Not much longer...okay?" She looked at Calyca and smiled. "You need to rest. I'll give you something to help you sleep."

"No thank you," Caly told the nurse. "I hate that stuff." Her eyes slid back to Jurell's and she just watched him for long moments. She wanted him to stay, but she wasn't about to ask him to. Not after she realized how tired he was. "I'll be okay," she told him softly. "Don't worry, alright?"

He gave her a smile and stood, coming to his full height. In the armour he was close to six and a half feet tall, and looked down on the nurse. The black armour was recognizable for what it was - Enforcer armour. She stepped back involuntarily and he steadied her with a hand that closed on her shoulder; his smile was warm, though the look in his eyes wasn't. "If you don't mind, I'll stay." It didn't sound like a question. "It'll be fine. She doesn't sleep much at night. We won't bother anyone."

Szerda nodded, though she felt her heart racing. She didn't want to cause a scene, and she was sure that the Security Officer wouldn't do anything to her - it was more a feeling...an encounter she just knew she wouldn't win. So Annikafiore Szerda smiled at the big Bajoran and nodded. "Sure...if Commander T'Kal can sit in here all night I'm sure you can." She turned to Calyca and made a show of checking her readouts on the monitors. A moment later she was retreating and Jurell pulled over a chair.

"I think I have to get out of this outfit," he whispered. "It scares people."

"You have a very imposing figure," Caly whispered back, smiling at him and at Szerda's reaction. "I'm glad you're staying. Thank you." She breathed a little sigh of relief and then started moving some and squirming. "Dammit," she grunted softly in frustration. "Help me roll over, Jurell. I can't quite seem to get it right yet..." He did as she asked, making sure that she was comfortable before sitting down and taking hold of her hand. Watson scrambled out of the way when she started thrashing around and hunkered down next to 003 where both of them watched the pair like silent sentinels.

"I found out some interesting things while I was on the station..."

"Tell me all about it," he whispered as he leaned closer. They were almost nose to nose and he leaned his elbows on the edge of the bed, smiling as he gazed into her eyes, noting their slight dullness and that haunted look before once more cataloguing her every feature, happy that they were both safe and home again. She curled her body slightly towards him, bringing up her other hand to wrap her fingers a little jerkily around his wrist and add to that feeling of closeness.

"I met the Chief of Medical," she whispered softly and wrinkled her Bajoran looking nose a bit. Her eyes traveled his face as she reacquainted herself with his features and finally settled on those blue eyes that so fascinated her. "He was quite eager to show me his facility when I told him who I was," she smiled faintly.

"Really? Why?" Jurell furrowed his brow, trying to think of the reason her identity would accomplish such a thing. He caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers.

"Since I was posing as a 'married' woman, I used your name," she admitted softly, closing her eyes a bit at the touch to her cheek and letting her breath out in a soft huff as she leaned closer. "The Sorg Jurell there was a Commander in the military, very well placed," she told him. "The doctor was very anxious for me to tell my 'husband' about his work."

"Oh?" he grinned, his eyes automatically going to the Betrothal bracelet that still enclosed her wrist. He looked back into her eyes, "Commander huh? What kind of work was it?"

"Medical research," she murmured quietly and went on to tell him what the Bajoran doctor had been researching. By the time she was finished, she was gripping his arm a little tightly and tears had filled her eyes. "I... I invited him to dinner with us." She drew in a shaky breath and let it out in a soft, grunting huff as the pooled tears finally spilled over and slid slowly down her cheeks. "I hope you don't mind."

Jurell had listened with growing revulsion; it reminded him of many atrocities done in the name of Cardassian science. Furthering the advance of medicine was an old justification for torture and mutilation and all manner of other cruelties done for the greater good of the people doing the experimentation. He could imagine what she had seen and heard, and it made him sad that she had witnessed any of it. The last few weeks had been an ordeal that would have stripped the innocence from a large number of the crew on the Sulu.

He brushed away her tears with a gentle caress of his thumb and shook his head. "You did and said what you had to do, Cal, you were playing a part, and that enabled the success of the mission. You did your job and probably saved a few lives of our comrades here on Sulu. It wasn't you, Cal, it was the part you had to play." Her eyes were glued to him as he spoke and he could easily see the guilt she'd been feeling. His blue eyes held concern and compassion for her, and he leaned forward to kiss her softly. Her lips lingered on his until the last possible moment as he drew away slightly to look again into her green eyes and brush his fingers along her cheek. "You should probably talk to a counselor," he whispered.

She let out a soft sigh at the kiss and nodded slightly, their lips close enough that they could feel each other's breath when they spoke. "When things settle down," she whispered and met his gaze. "I'll go see Potts, okay? Right now I just need to see you," she admitted and reached out to hesitantly touch the corner of his mouth, causing him to smile.

She seemed to have developed a fascination for his lips, and he didn't mind at all. He nodded and whispered, "I needed to see you too. Getting back seems like a dream." He took her hand and pressed her fingers to his lips, causing them to flex slightly against their fullness. "If it is...I don't want to wake."

She leaned in a little closer to him. "Everything seems so... Surreal," she agreed, her voice nothing more than a whisper that only he could hear. "I was worried about you," she told him. "I didn't want anything to happen to you before...before I could tell you in person that I was sorry for the way we parted..."

"No...it wasn't your fault...it was mine...and I'm the one who is sorry." He gave her fingers another kiss, gazing into her eyes. She was so beautiful, it almost took his breath away. "I'm an idiot sometimes, and I'm no good with words. Please don't blame yourself." He laid an arm across her pillow and stroked her hair. "I know what you were saying, I was just a fool. Please forgive m--"

Calyca pressed her fingers to his lips to halt his words. "We're both idiots sometimes," she corrected him softly. "And both forgiven. I over-reacted," she admitted and brushed her thumb over the fullness of his bottom lip, making him smile slightly in the process. She was clearly enjoying the way his fingers moved through her hair as evidenced by the near purr that passed over her lips when she let out her breath in a soft exhale. "You're not a fool, Jurell."

"I feel like it sometimes." He smiled and continued stroking her hair, slowly and with great gentleness, eliciting a soft 'mmm' from her as she leaned slightly into his touch. His eyes roamed across her face, her delicate nose, with the Bajoran ridges that would soon be gone, the smattering of freckles and her slightly parted, full lips. Her colour was returning gradually. He met her eyes again and sighed softly, just seeing her made him feel content, but seeing the look in her eyes when she gazed at him made his heart swell so much it hurt. "Have they said when you can get out of here?" he whispered.

"I'm not sure. I think it got rather hectic around here," she answered. "But I believe the consensus is that they'll let me go when I try and get out of bed myself," she smiled a little. "I think that means I'm getting better enough to be a pain in the ass." She was fascinated by the color of his eyes and for the moment couldn't take hers off them. "I haven't talked to anyone officially though. Think they'll miss me if I disappear?"

"I think the nurse would see me," he grinned. "Besides, the doctor has claws and fangs. I don't want either of us to get a reprimand for kidnapping a patient." He chuckled softly, "I need to get out of this armour and get a shower. Lieutenant Casey gave the team a thirty-six hour excuse from duty, post mission. That means I can stay with you if you need me."

"Please," she sighed softly, admitting her desire for him to stay. She touched his face with her fingers and lightly stroked the growing stubble beneath them. "Go get rid of the armor and take your shower. I'll be alright. Promise."

"I'll be right back...promise. Don't go anywhere." He stood as she shook her head and started to answer with a soft 'no', but the word was lost as he leaned down to claim her lips with a kiss. This time it was more a lingering kiss, but still just a press of lips as he cupped her cheek. She kissed him back, her breath escaping in a soft huff when he broke the contact and kissed her brow once, softly and whispered, "I love you," before drawing away.

Vivid green eyes watched him intently, his words making them flare warmly. "I'll be waiting for you."

His smile was answer enough as he left.

Her gaze followed his form until it was totally gone from her view and then she sighed softly. He was starting to really get to her. Weakening her resolve and shaking her firm belief in - 'I don't do relationships'. She could no longer deny that she was in one with the big Bajoran and he did seem both tenacious and determined. If he kept telling her he loved her, she was going to start to actually believe it. Not that she thought he was lying... It was just that... Two months ago, he was professing love for Shirik...

Her eyes drifted closed on her thoughts and she slipped into a light sleep as she waited for him to return.

It didn't take long. Feeling refreshed and clean again, sporting a Class A uniform and stubble free, he returned barely thirty minutes later. A quick stop at the replicator got him a steaming mug of Mocha Chocolate and strong coffee before he sat in the chair that had been placed by the biobed.

Jurell sat and sipped his coffee, placing the chocolate beside him. She had managed to roll onto her back during his absence and one hand was curled against her cheek, her face turned in his direction. He didn't want to wake her; she looked so peaceful, like a curled up kitten. He took the time to go through his performance on the mission, trying to find fault in the few seconds that Smith had been shot, and knew that with Salinger across his shoulder and with Hansen and Case behind him there hadn't been anything he could have done. He'd been scanning the route ahead rather than behind, thanks to Watson's sensor abilities. No, it was no one's fault; except Smith's. He'd started the shooting. It would have been a clean escape had it not been for his thirst for action. Smith had been trigger-happy. He'd wanted to start shooting Enforcers and to hell with the consequences. It could have ended so differently.

The Bajoran was gazing at Calyca and he smiled, seeing her face once more through the memories of the fire-fight on the Windsor. He put that aside and his eyes rested again on the sparkling bracelet on her right wrist. She hadn't removed it, and he knew that he didn't want to ask her to either. But it was there by default. He hadn't asked her and she hadn't accepted and it wasn't the real thing. He didn't want to even bring her attention to it, just in case it came out wrong again and she misunderstood.. How could he mention it without it seeming that he didn't want her to wear it, when in fact he did...but it would be unfair. He decided to completely avoid it. She'd take it off if she wanted to. If she didn't that was up to her. He smiled, sipping the strong brew and looked around Sickbay. There were four patients asleep and the nurse sitting in the doctor's office, occasionally looking up and checking monitors. He smiled at her and she gave him a tight smile in return. Jurell decided to apologise to her for being a little over-bearing earlier.

Caly slipped into the fragmented dream easily, as if it had been waiting for her to close her eyes long enough so that it could. Branna's face popped into view and she frowned, the ridges on her nose becoming more pronounced. But it was Lyrr's face that had her stirring. And when it intermingled with the woman's screams it had her gasping for air and sitting bolt upright in the bed, her eyes wide opened and looking around wildly. Sickbay.

As soon as she'd gasped in her sleep he was putting his coffee down, and when she sat up he was on his feet and beside her, seeing the wide open but sightless eyes that still saw her dream. He put a hand on her shoulder as she shuddered and looked wildly around.

Had she been brought here for Branna to experiment on? Had they discovered her ruse? Her frightened gaze found Jurell standing beside her and for a brief moment she thought it was the other one. Luckily he'd changed and the familiar sight of him in a Starfleet uniform had a shaky hand reaching for him and a distressed sound escaping her throat.

His arms were around her and he drew her to his chest as she buried her face in his uniform, still struggling to breathe past the fright. "It's okay, baby, you're back home and safe," he softly whispered in her ear as he rubbed her back, easing her trembling body some. The nurse was on her feet and coming out of the office and Jurell just shook his head at her. Szerda stopped and waited a few seconds; a bad dream...that's all it was, but she took satisfaction that Boothroyd's body was more coordinated.

"It's okay, baby," he murmured as he held her tightly and her fingers grasped at his shirtfront. "It was just a dream."

"The t-top of Lyrr's head was gone..." she whispered tightly as she clung to him. "It was just... Gone. T-they removed it to get the t-technology out..." she shuddered. "And t-then they strapped that woman down and sliced her open... Just... Just to show me how the probes worked... B-because I asked for a demonstration... I did..." Her body jerked a little as a tiny spasm or two gripped her. "T-they didn't even k-knock her out first...."

"You had no way of knowing what they would do," he said softly and he sat beside her on the bed. "Nothing that happened was under your control." He held her and wiped the tears away from her cheeks. "What you saw was terrible, but that whole place was one big nightmare that we're all lucky enough to wake up from. From what I heard, the stuff you brought back saved lives. It doesn't matter what happened there...and those people that were being hurt will no longer feel the pain." He tilted her chin until she was looking into his eyes. "The only thing that matters to me is we're home, and you're safe and you'll never see those things again."

Caly gazed up into his eyes and drew in a deep, if shaky breath. She'd heard every word he'd said and nodded slightly. "We're home," she finally said, as if it had just now sunk in and she actually understood what that meant. "I don't ever want to go back there, Jurell," she told him rather inanely, as if he had plans on taking her back for a vacation or something.

"That makes the two of us," he smiled affectionately down at her and pulled her into another embrace, just luxuriating in the closeness of the hug. He held on to her quietly for a while, fingers lightly brushing through the hair at the nape of her neck. He could feel the thudding of her heart and the warmth of her breath against his neck. I could sit like this for hours, he thought, gently rocking her and giving her comfort.

"Okay... I like this..." she sighed softly and just relaxed, letting him support her slight weight. "I could stay like this all night," she admitted. "You make me feel safe," she told him. It was a big admission for her. "I haven't felt that way for a long time now."

He smiled and just made a murmuring noise as he stroked her neck. "Me too," he whispered. "I brought you some hot chocolate." He smiled into her hair.

"Mmm.... My weakness." She curled a slightly erratic arm around his waist but couldn't quite manage to hook her fingers in his waistband when she tried. "You're going to spoil me," she told him and tipped her head back against his arm to look up at him. Her movements were still very gross and she didn't have a handle on her fine motor control yet, but she was moving at least. "And then you're going to be in big trouble," she smiled.

"I've heard that from you before," he grinned, "but I'll risk it. Danger is my middle name." He reached down and picked up her mug. "I'll help," he said as he held it to her hands. "It might help you get more sleep too. That nurse is looking at me like I'm intruding."

Caly glanced over at Szerda as she moved her hands to hesitantly wrap around the mug and his hands. "Are you going to leave?" She looked back up at him, her eyes full of the question.

"Only if she kicks me out," he grinned. "No, I'll stay." She had that look in her eyes again that told him quite plainly that she didn't want him to leave. He just couldn't say no to that look. She had him wrapped around her heart for sure and just couldn't deny her anything. He helped her drink carefully, noting that her movements were stilted, and he was worried about her. She quite obviously couldn't manage on her own right now. "I'll stay with you for as long as you want," he whispered.

She looked up at him over the rim of the cup and offered him a faint smile. "I don't want you to leave," she told him and licked a bit of chocolate from her top lip a little haphazardly. "I don't want you to miss your sleep either though," she admitted. "You need it every bit as much as I do."

"Yeah... I know." He quirked a brow and said, "Hang on a bit." He hopped off the bed, making sure she was okay with the mug before going to the nurse's station. He talked to the nurse for a moment and she looked at Caly, then tapped her comm-badge. A short time later Jurell came back to her bed with a grin and removed the mug before setting it down out of the way.

The quirk of her brow told the big Bajoran just how curious she was about what he was up to. A curiosity that was satisfied a moment later when he scooped her up into his arms and lifted her clear of the bed. The action elicited a soft grunt of surprise from her and had her arms winding a bit erratically around his neck.

"The doc said it was okay as long as someone stayed with you, and seeing as I've got all the medical training I need, and they could do with a spare bed...I can take you home." He made sure the blanket was wrapped around her before walking out of Sickbay. "You know this is the second time I've had to do this...don't make a habit of it!" She felt so light it wasn't any effort as he started off to her quarters.

"Had to?" she grinned at him and laughed softly at his teasing. Her arms tightened their hold a bit as he started down the corridor. "People are going to start to talk, yanno. Seeing you dragging me around the Sulu dressed in a blanket. You really are a scoundrel," she sighed softly and rested her head on his shoulder for the duration of the trip.

"I know...you bring out the absolute worst in me." He grinned mischievously.

Caly snorted softly and buried her face against his neck. "Hah! I so think you keep most of that hidden from me," she teased. "But I know it's there," she added and tugged a lock of his hair near her fingers at the back of his neck.

He smiled and chuckled softly as he stepped into the turbolift. "I can't keep anything from you can I?" he playfully asked. "Deck thirteen," he told the computer as three spiders scrambled through the door before it closed.

"Hmm... Not much," she agreed. "Although I think it's a mutual kind of thing, you know. And don't worry. Call me weird, but I actually like the worst in you. Besides, I think you bring out some pretty bad things in me too."

"Prophets forbid!" he laughed. "You don't have a bad bone in your body." The turbo lift doors opened on deck thirteen. "Let's get you home." He stepped out to the inquisitive stares of three crewmen who wanted the lift. He gave them a smile. The female crewman let out a little shriek and jumped out of the way as Caly's spiders followed them out of the lift.

"Hah! I have lots of them, thank you very much." She held back her laugh and tried to hide her face from the crewmen as they exited the lift. She jumped at the little shriek and didn't say anything more until the doors started to close, and then she whispered a soft, "I bet you like all my bad bones too," along with a small nod of her head.

"I surely do," he grinned. "Every last one of them."

---

"The Obligatory Shower Scene"
By: Ensign Ainsley Chambers; Counselor
Ensign Sanat Vijay; Flight Control Officer

Location: USS Sulu, The Swamp
Stardate: 57910.23 07h36

***

The water was hot, and Ainsley let it flow. She leaned lazily against the side of the stall and let the steam build into the room and the water pound against her flesh. Mason had been wonderful, and oddly cute when all disheveled in the morning. She giggled as she remembered his hair shoved up on one side.

"It wasn't a dream?" he had murmured as she untangled their legs and slid clumsily out of bed.

"Nope," she'd said.

"Thank heaven," he told the ceiling groggily, rolling onto his back. He watched her move around the room, tucking her hair behind her ears as she considered her uniform, shook her head, and settled on one of his long casual shirts. "You are so beautiful."

"Well thank you," she grinned and did a little bow as she shrugged into the shirt and did up a couple of the buttons in the middle. "You're not so bad yourself."

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"I need a shower," she said, waving at herself vaguely. "I'm all. . . I need a shower," she repeated.

"It's right in the next room," Mason chuckled, confused.

"What if Sanat comes in before I get there?"

Mason chuckled. "Then that shirt alone won't matter."

Suddenly uncomfortable with the length of the shirt, she looked down, did the button at the bottom, and glanced over her shoulder at the room's mirror. The shirt covered her, but if she bent at all it certainly wouldn't.

"Okay then," she said, grabbing a pair of his boxers, too.

And now here she was, in the shower, Mason's clothes draped over the bar next to the stall door, luxuriating in her memories of the night before. And what amazing memories. As a college student, she'd picked up a bit of an obsession with sexuality, and had read a good deal on the topic. She smiled at the memory of that, recalling that she'd justified it as a sort of 'preparedness research', for when the time finally came. And now it was here, and it felt really good. She did a little dance in the shower, almost giggling as she mentally replayed the night before.

She had worked up a good lather with the cleansing gel when she heard the fresher door whisk open. She almost invited Mason into the stall, but then she heard the voice, fell silent, and almost fell down.

Sanat groaned and urinated noisily. "Admiral, I need the shower when you're done," he said, flushing the head.

Ainsley said nothing, glancing around the stall for someplace to hide for a moment before she realized how stupid an idea that was. She said nothing.

"You in there?" Sanat asked. His speech was slightly slurred. He'd probably been drinking. She heard him start the sink, and a squeak of a hand wiping condensation from glass. For a brief panicked moment, she feared she'd see Sanat peering through the stall door, but apparently he'd simply wiped the mirror.

"I've been thinking," he continued, heedless of any response. There was a settling thud, as of a body sitting heavily. He sighed. "What did we do?"

Ainsley frowned, trying to make sense of the question, but Sanat carried on. "I mean, how low does a person have to sink before he can't climb back up to normal? I've been thinking about Kirsha, actually. I slept with that woman, Mason. I slept with her a lot. I don't know what was in that cream you gave me, but it turned her into something ravenous. And on some level," he paused, "it felt good. I've never known a woman who could last in bed like she can."

Ainsley was suddenly unsure if she wanted to hear any more. Sanat thought she was Mason, and was pouring out his sorrows. But then, she reminded herself, it was the pouring out that was important. He needed to talk. Stopping him now might close him off, and he had to let things go. So she stood quietly and listened.

"I mean, I know the whole point of sleeping with Kirsha was to get information on the enforcers, and it certainly worked. And I think it was gutsy of you to think about it. And I'm flattered that you trusted me to do it. But I," he hesitated again. "I was starting to fall in love with her, Mason. And that scares me.

"Nat's a great woman, and I thought she was what I needed. What I wanted. But we can't ever seem to get along. We'll be talking or something, and then like that--" he clapped his hands, "it's all gone nova again, and we're screaming. But I realized during the last screaming match that I love her. Is that healthy?"

Ainsley almost answered, but then remembered where she was.

"It's her fire is what it is. That's what really gets me," Sanat was saying. "She knows what she wants, and goes after it. And she's not afraid to state her goals. It's very sexy to deal with a woman that forceful. But then I slept with Kirsha, and she was the same way, only more.

"She takes what she wants," he said, "and does as she pleases. She's liberated and open. But she was just a target. I shouldn't let emotions cloud my judgement. But she and Nat are so similar, I started having trouble figuring out where one ended and the other started. Am I a bastard for thinking that way?" He sighed. "Probably.

"It doesn't matter anyway. I won't be here that much longer. Zareb feels his fieldtests have been successful. The actual combat applications have been tested and worked to his satisfaction. Well," Sanat chuckled a vaguely drunken chuckle, "as close to his satisfaction as anything ever gets. He's going to be looking to ship back to the AQ with the Nightingale as soon as Sulu gets back up to snuff, and he said he'll be taking me with him. I'm his benchmark pilot now."

There was silence for a time. Ainsley almost peeked out of the stall, but then Sanat spoke again. "I'm sorry to tell you like this. We've had some good times, we have. You're one of the few things that's made this ship," his voice broke, "bearable.

"I'm sorry to tell you like this," he repeated. "But I suppose it's easier this way. Me just talking and you just listening. Goodbye, my friend."

The door whisked open and closed again. Ainsley leaned against the wall of the stall, part of her thankful she hadn't given herself away, and part of her wondering what she should do now. Mason would need to know.

---

"Sitting in the Darkness"
By: Ensign Vincent Chan

Location: Chan's Quarters, USS Sulu
Stardate 57910.23, 15h05

***

Vincent was lying down, his hand to his head. The lights on his room were turned off. They had been off for the last seven hours. Vincent had been lying in the dark ever since he finished his Gamma bridge duty. Warm tears, once moist, now caked to his cheeks and made them dry. He had experienced a great loss.

It wasn't so much having Emma or, as he had found out that morning, Catherine Page leave him. He was more amazed at his own gullibility and readiness to fall in so deeply in love with her, even proposing marriage. Vincent smiled ruefully at the thought of his daughter. Catherine had been pregnant with his daughter. It had not seemed like too long ago that the two had sat there, deciding their future. This hurt Vincent even, for Emma had been lying, even then.

He felt like a fool. She had played him like a puppet. That was her intent all along. Vincent had been nothing to Emma/Catherine. Yet, he thought coolly, he had been loyal to her, even to the very end. Even when doubts had appeared. Even when the whole ship had been buzzing with rumors, Vincent had ignored them, trusting his heart. Well, his heart had turned out wrong.

All along, he had been going out with a traitor, someone so dark and twisted, they had sold Starfleet out, forgotten everything they believed and loved, and had turned to the dark side. That was how Vincent saw it at least.

Getting up, painfully, Vincent made his way to the adjoining bathroom. Still ignoring the lights, Vincent stumbled and felt his way to the basin. The dried tears on his cheek were caked and beginning to irritate his skin. Running the water gently into the sink, Vincent cupped his hand and splashed some vigorously into his face.

It was as if the shock of the icy cold water woke him. It did not relieve the pain, but at least now Vincent was alert enough to deal with it. Grabbing a towel, Vincent wiped the water from his face.

Having been cleaned up somewhat, Vincent was reluctant to go back to lying on the bed. The moments of activity, no matter how weary, coupled with the water had made Vincent fully awake. Sitting on the edge of his bed, Vincent reflected how many times he and Emma had made love there. Feeling the anger of her betrayal build up inside him again, Vincent turned away.

His personal console caught his eye. Walking over to it, Vincent dodged his uniform, usually so clean and perfect, now strewn about the floor. Sitting at the console in his underwear, Vincent turned it on.

The small beep and soft hum calmed his nerves. The spinning Starfleet logo beckoned. "Computer, location and heading."

The mechanized reply told him the ship's current location and the fact that they were going home. Vincent cast his mind back to the past. He had heard of all the chaos and confusion about getting the Sulu, but they had all appeared as background figures to him. So had the people who had whispered condolences to him. Even though they were background figures to him, he still not help but be irritated. Who the hell were they? What the hell did they know? How did they find out everything? And why was he always the last to know?

Thumping the arm of his chair in frustration, Vincent got out of the chair, threw on some casual clothes and left his quarters. The light almost blinded him, but Vincent didn't care. He still did not care when he waltzed into the bar and the bartender had given him a look when he ordered a pint of Guinness and had sculled it. What did he care? The woman he had loved, and who he thought had loved him, was stuck in the middle of nowhere and the Sulu was heading home, leaving it all behind. His last clear thoughts before the alcohol took its effect was that he hoped the ship got as far away from the damn place and all the things that had happened as quickly as it could.

Letting the grief overcome him, Vincent broke down and cried again.

---

"The Writings of Vedek Jaken"

Commander Lyrr Tayla; Executive Officer
Crewman First Class Rett Charla; XO's Yeoman

Location: USS Sulu, Sickbay
Stardate: 57910.23, 15h20

***

The ethereal glow limning his kindly, round face caused her to squint, even as her eyes slowly opened. He appeared as what she had always imagined a Prophet might, on that occasion when one should deign to visit her: glorious.

A leaden, ungainly arm rose from her side and reached for the smiling apparition at her bedside. When her hand touched its cheek instead of pushing against air, Lyrr realized this person was just as substantial as he felt. Her eyes opened fully, bringing him into true focus. She chuckled hoarsely. "Rett...you're well. It's really you?"

"It is," he smiled. He looked wan, but his eyes were alert. "It was very strange. I felt fine until you collapsed. I thought at first I was lightheaded out of relief at being back in the real universe."

Lyrr struggled upright and released a heavy sigh when she succeeded. "It was the virus," she explained solemnly. "I must've--" Guiltily, she smiled. "I told you to go to sickbay. You would've been safe there, and not just from the virus." Thinking back on her episode in Matt's ready room caused immediate embarrassment. "I'm sorry, Rett...if I made you uncomfortable in any way," she said, too ashamed to meet his gaze.

"Any discomfort I feel will be gone after a good night's sleep and some tuwalli pie," he said. "If you can't speak your mind privately to a silly old man, when can you speak it?"

"Not silly," she assured him warmly. "Not silly at all. I only worried that I might have...touched on some painful memories. But at the same time..." Lyrr sighed and stared down at her fidgeting hands. "The things I said, they weren't entirely products of the fever. Much of it...it's true, Rett. I know it's probably inappropriate to be telling you any of this, that I could be accused of partiality towards you...." She shrugged defeatedly. "You're a good man, and I respect you...and maybe even a little more than that. But at the risk of making things even more awkward" --she chuckled weakly-- "I'll spare you the details."

"As you see fit, sir," said Rett, bowing his head slightly. She could still see the smile.

"Are you always this agreeable?" she asked, laughter in her voice. "I can't fathom how someone could be so...happy all of the time." Eyeing him closely, she added, "You are happy, aren't you, Rett?"

He thought on that a moment, and then took a deep breath. "For a long time, I let other people dictate my happiness. If my master was happy, I was happy. If my wife was happy, I was happy. If the other servants were happy, I was happy. And so on."

Lyrr smiled invitingly as she shifted aside, giving Rett space on the biobed. It was always obvious when he was settling into a story; she presumed he would be more comfortable telling it while seated.

He sat with as much dignity as he could muster, shifting to keep the ridiculously open medical gown closed. "When I lost everything after the Cardassians left, I wandered for a long time. Emotionally, that is. Everything I had ever relied on for my own happiness was gone, and I had to find a way to replace it."

"And you did?" she guessed. "How?"

"I found religion," he smiled. "Coming from a Cardassian household, my knowledge of the Prophets was nearly nonexistent. When I found it, I seized on it. I read manuscript after manuscript. Book after book of scripture and commentary. And I learned something very important."

Lyrr leaned in closer, eager to receive his hidden knowledge. Prompting him with a nod, she asked playfully, "And what did you learn?"

"Happiness is a decision we make within ourselves," he said simply. "So I decided to simply be happy."

She frowned skeptically. "And...it's that easy? You wanted to be happy, so you are? No matter what happens? How is that something that can be controlled, Rett? And does that mean miserable people are that way because they choose to be?"

"After a fashion, I suppose it does," Rett nodded. "We have control over our inner selves. How we choose to feel is really up to us. Certainly, there are autonomic responses, like fear. But even those are controllable."

Lyrr nodded slowly, absorbing his wisdom, but one small detail plagued her. "But...what about love?" she asked softly. "Can we really choose who we fall in love with? And when we do, how are we to know if you're giving your heart to the right person?"

"Ah, love," Rett mused. "Some texts divide love, you know."

She chuckled. "How do you mean?"

"Do you know the writings of Vedek Jaken?"

Shaking her head nearly sheepishly, Lyrr answered, "I didn't invest much time in studying scripture."

"Everyone comes to the divine in their own time," Rett waved off her sheepishness pleasantly, and spoke in a matter-of-fact tone. "Jaken was the first of the Vedek writers to put forward the separation of Chala, or physical attraction, from Adancea, or emotional commitment. He posits that any thinking creature is capable of both."

"That seems impossible," Lyrr answered. "If you love someone...you feel both. How can you distinguish one from the other?"

Rett thought for a time, staring absently at the monitors above the biobed. "When I was in service, there was a gardener. I seem to recall telling you this story once, actually. Do you remember? The gardener whose wife could not be sexually intimate?"

Lyrr nodded, but averted her eyes to the length of sheet covering her legs, far too uncomfortable to hold his gaze, and not merely due to the story's content, one he had shared with her before; it was that, now, it was being told by the man she had called 'Father'. She smiled to herself, though, and listened on.

"This gardener loved his wife, more than anything. He felt what Vedek Jaken called Adancea for his wife. A higher degree of affection than just the physical. Something," he considered the next word carefully, and said it almost to himself, "purer."

Lyrr did look up, now, appearing startled and uncertain. "You mean...making love isn't pure, Rett?" She had convinced herself of that long ago, after realizing what she had shared with Oresh was an abomination. Only, Ben had assured her otherwise and encouraged her to experience it once again. "It's wrong?" she whispered. "To...be with someone like that...it's impure?"

"That's a very complicated question," Rett nodded. "Based on Jaken's writings, in which I happen to place great stock, I would say that the key is in the phrase 'making love'."

"I--" Lyrr flushed with embarrassment. "What's the difference between that and...sex?"

"The act of physical intimacy, in and of itself, is really rather fumbling and mechanical," he said gently. "And given the precautions Starfleet takes with its officers, irrelevant."

"Contraception," Lyrr interpreted. "So...making love...its sole purpose is for procreation?"

"Mechanically, yes," Rett answered, "but not emotionally. The point is that sex, by itself, driven strictly by Chala, is rather base and meaningless. However, when two people engage in such activity based not on physical desire, but shared emotional desire, then it becomes 'lovemaking'. It's in the name. Making Love creates a thing, and strengthens it. Having sex is simply possessive and selfish." He shook his head. "I'm rambling. I apologize."

"N-No," she stammered, touching his hand briefly. "I like when you ramble." Lyrr smiled. "Go on. Please. This...it's important to me, Rett. I mean, lately, with Ben..." She sighed, again hanging her head low to avoid eye-contact. "I enjoy being with him, of course...but sometimes...I feel unsure. I'm not a particularly sexual creature, Rett - Ben...he enjoys the physical..." Frustrated with her inability to put forth her thoughts coherently, Lyrr snapped her head up and blurted, "I don't want sex sometimes...but how do I tell him that? How do I tell the man I love that I don't want to be with him...in that way sometimes? Like you said, Rett...sometimes it's just sex and not lovemaking. I had that before," she whispered. "With Oresh, that's all it was...I don't want that again."

Rett thought on that for a time. "I don't know that I have a certain answer. I'm certainly no Vedek," he smiled. "My advice is to talk this through with the Lieutenant Commander. If either of you isn't fully prepared for what you're doing, you shouldn't do it. It will only bring you pain. If he loves you, he will understand."

"But...you've implied before that you are unsure about he and I," Lyrr reminded him gently. "Rett...is there something you know about him that you're hiding from me? Something that I should know?"

"Please don't misunderstand. I mean no offense," he answered. "Your business is your own. It is certainly not my place to meddle in your personal life." He sighed, glancing from her gaze to the side of the bed, and finally relented beneath its intensity. "I will admit, I was concerned for your ability to remain focused in a crisis, and this one especially. Given the relationship between you and the Lieutenant Commander."

Lyrr nodded thoughtfully. "I had the same concerns, Rett. Though...how did I do?"

"I will serve with you any time," he said, a note of pride in his voice.

"Good, because your position on this ship is permanent." She arched a brow and gave him a chiding smile. "But...how did I do, Mr. Rett? I expect you, of all people, to tell me the truth. I am ashamed of how I handled certain situations, especially those involving Ben and Ms. Bancroft. I just hope the crew didn't notice."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "It's certainly a unique situation, and I'm certainly no expert. I will admit that I was uncomfortable with the ruse used to protect Mister T'Kal, but it all seems to have worked out for the best."

Lyrr sighed to quell her frustration and gripped Rett's hand firmly to focus his attention on her. "You know I've always respected your candor, Mr. Rett...so why aren't you telling me the truth?"

"Pardon?"

"Rett," she asked quietly, "am I jeopardizing my career by being with Ben? My worst fear is that, no matter how I try, I'm incapable of being objective when it involves him." She smiled tenderly. "Just as I'm not when it comes to you. Is that a bad thing?"

"No creature is completely objective," Rett replied. He sighed again. "As to Mister T'Kal--I don't know. On the surface, you both seem like you'd do well together, but something about the two of you just feels. . . off."

Lyrr's features wavered and her hand spasmed around his. "Off?" she whispered. "Do you think--" She swallowed hard. "Is it...Lt. Commander Bancroft do you think, Rett? He still loves her - he's told me himself. But...could it be that he loves her more? That I'm in the way?"

"I don't know," Rett said quietly. "It just feels as though you and Mister T'Kal moved forward extremely quickly. I won't pretend to know all the details, and I really don't want to know. But I've spoken to you, and perhaps the picture I see is more complete than that which others see. And I have a hard time believing that either of you actually loves the other." He realized what he'd said when her face went white, and clapped a hand to his mouth beneath wide eyes. "I'm sorry," he said quickly, looking down. "I've said too much. It's not my place."

"Well make it your place," Lyrr told him, not unkindly, though it was a struggle to maintain her composure in the face of Rett's observation. The only thing preventing an irate reaction was the realization that she had wondered the same many times before. "If I don't love him," she asked, "then what is it, Rett? What am I feeling? You have to tell me," she begged him, and knowing it would prove effective, added, "Daba...you have to tell me."

Rett hung his head and closed his eyes tight for a moment, rubbing the top of his bald head. "You are a strong-willed woman," he said finally, and with resignation. When Lyrr responded only with a look that said plainly she intended to wait him out, he continued. "Both you and Mister T'Kal are strong-willed people. But you seem to have just. . . surrendered."

"Never," Lyrr told him effusively. "Rett, I've never surrendered. Never, not to anyone." Not to anyone but Oresh, she realized and shuddered. "Please," she murmured, "go on. Explain yourself."

"It was as though you met, and suddenly were engaged. And now, with Lieutenant Commander Bancroft returned to the mix, it's as though the two of you are clinging to your duty to one another and using it as an excuse to ignore other things."

"Other things," she repeated carefully, "that maybe we can't see? But what about what I feel, Rett? How can I be sure it's not really love?" She was nearly afraid to ask the next question, for she already had in her mind one possible solution to her dilemma, and it would involve surrendering the betrothal bracelet to Ben. "Rett...what should I do? What can I do to make sure I'm not making a mistake?"

"Do you eat ice cream?" Rett asked.

Lyrr frowned. It took more than a moment to convince herself she had heard the question correctly. "I...I do. In bed when I can, but Ben hates that..."

"What's your favorite flavor?"

She paused. "Marolla fruit." Her brow furrowed, and she shook her head to ask, "I don't--"

"How do you know?"

"I don't know," she sighed. "I just...I do. I guess...if I had a choice between flavours, I'd always choose the Marolla."

"Have you ever considered that you might like some other flavor, and maybe better?"

"Maybe," she answered with dawning comprehension on the true subject of their discussion. Lyrr smiled in appreciation. "I imagine I might if I tried...but what reason do I have to? I'm content with the...Marolla."

"And that really can't be faulted, so long as it was an informed decision," Rett said placidly. "Assuming you took your time, tried other flavors, considered the strengths and weaknesses, and decided on Marolla, you're completely justified in making it your favorite."

Lyrr lowered her head and sighed. Beneath all the talk of ice cream and Marolla fruits, Lyrr saw clearly what Rett alluded to. It was the same conclusion she had come to many times before, but had ignored stubbornly. Quietly, she ventured, "So...I need more fruit in my diet?"

"That's not for me to say one way or the other," Rett answered. "Only you can decide something like that."

"I understand," she whispered. "There hasn't been anyone but Oresh. I'm...just afraid, without Ben, there would never be anyone else."

"I would die of shock if that were true," Rett smiled.

Lyrr chuckled softly and patted Rett's hand. "At least I'll always know there'd be you. But...this is a lot to think about." She bowed her head solemnly. "Thank you, Rett. You're my only friend...the only one I have to tell me when I'm being foolish. I'm honoured to have you in my life."

"The honor is mine, sir."

---

"Resistant Progress"
By: Commander Lyrr Tayla - Executive Officer
Lt. Brennyn Scott, RN - Chief Counselor

Location: Sickbay, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57910.23, 20h22

***

Her first attempt at leaving bed to wander in search of Ben was a failed one - Doctor M'lira and her inscrutable feline senses must have detected her intentions, for the Caitian was at her bedside instantaneously, shooting Lyrr a most disapproving glare. She had muttered an apology and slipped her legs under the covers once again.

It was approaching midday, nearly the first full day of her convalescence, and Lyrr was restless. Ben was still in quarantine, the last she heard, yet even though it prevented them from connecting physically, the comms weren't off-limits. It would make for a poor reunion, but hearing his voice would tide her over until they could see one another.

She hailed the computer, but it seemed to elicit an unwarranted effect: instead of opening a channel to Ben's quarantine room, it had seemingly summoned Counsellor Scott into her private ward. Lyrr released a quelling sigh. It was bound to happen eventually, but Lyrr would have preferred later over sooner. She mentally bolstered herself for what was to come - two near-death experiences were enough to give the counsellor plenty material to work from and many psychological afflictions to cure Lyrr of, imaginary or actual.

"Counsellor," she sighed in greeting.

"And a good afternoon to you too, Tayla," greeted Bree. "You have no idea how much I just love being greeted so underwhelmingly. Though I suppose you're allowed to be grumpy...ier," she finished. "I'm not here to pick your brain, just to make sure you're feeling ok. Ben's been worried, and I promised to check on you for him. If I told you I cared about your well-being too, would I merely get another sigh?"

"It wasn't my intention to give you grief, Counsellor." She smiled tightly. "I'm sorry. Please, have a seat if you will." Lyrr shifted aside, making room on the biobed for the woman.

Bree sighed. " 'atta girl," Scott returned with a smile, seating herself on the bed. "So, how are you feeling? Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?"

"The standard opening questions," Lyrr quipped. "How about, Counsellor, we just get right to it? The doctor says I need plenty of rest, and if we continue to dance around the point, we could be here a while."

Scott looked genuinely perplexed. "I'm not dancing around anything. To tell you the truth, there's not much I feel like dancing about. I'm really just glad you're ok, Tayla, and I'm sorry for this whole sordid mess."

Defenses dropping slightly, Tayla nodded in gratitude. "It's good to see you weren't harmed, Counsellor. But if it's any consolation, I don't think we'll be seeing her again."

Scott nodded. "I'd like to believe that, but in my heart, I know all she did was get away again. She has his son, and that's got to tear him apart inside." Bree paused. She knew Lyrr knew where Ben's child was, and the counselor knew the significance of the child's adopted father for Lyrr. But Bree had promised Ben she would allow Lyrr to open up about Oresh in her own time, and with all that had happened recently, Tayla had not been to counseling voluntarily since she'd first agreed to it.

It took only a moment, then, to make the connection between her statement and the negotiation Lyrr had had with Emma. Scott had heard it all. Lyrr was suddenly panicked, but maintaining her composure well. "Ben's son," she repeated, nodding thoughtfully. "It's...that's something I planned on discussing with him myself." And withholding from him for as long as she was able. "You won't mention it to him, will you, Counsellor? I just feel it needs to come from me."

Bree frowned, unsure of what to make of it. She couldn't exactly admit what she knew. "Do you think you can do that? I mean, I know how much you hate the Cardassians, and I can understand why you wouldn't want Ben to go after them to retrieve his son..." There. A lie, but not completely implausible.

Lyrr smiled inquisitively. "Why wouldn't I want that, Counsellor? His son isn't a Cardassian - why should I hate him?"

Bree shook her head. "It's not that I think you'd hate him, but Ben would have to return to Cardassia to bring him home. Ben's not exactly welcome over there, and it would be a big risk for him to return. I've no doubt the child's adoptive parents wouldn't give him up without a fight. And let's not forget Emma. It could be that she wanted to lure him there all along." Scott sighed. "After all the two of you have endured, I can see why it would be tempting to keep T'Kal's child's whereabouts from him."

"Well it's not," Lyrr snapped. "I said I would tell him, and I will, Counsellor. And it's better for him if it comes from me. And," she added, glaring, "it's not your place or your business."

And as usual when Lyrr got defensive, Bree took a breath to ensure her words were especially selective. "Well, I'd respectfully disagree on both counts. Anything that has the potential to, or is continuing to have an impact on T'Kal's psychological welfare, is within the scope of my duties as Chief Counselor of this vessel. Ben is very much aware that he has a son somewhere, and keeping his whereabouts from him when it could be something he wants to know, and indeed is entitled to know as the child's father, is against my professional judgement. And secondly, it became my business the moment Emma held myself and Ainsley hostage and decided to share her history with Ben with the two of us and the entire bridge crew. Now, if you want to tell him, fine. I'm not exactly jumping at the opportunity."

"Then it's settled," Lyrr announced. "I'll tell him when I think it's the right time." She smiled tightly at Scott. "Anything else?"

"I'll help you figure out the right time," Bree stated without missing a beat. "After all, you have agreed to counseling, and this news will have a big impact on your relationship. I plan to be there for both of you."

Lyrr bowed her head. "Thank you, Counsellor. I'm certain Ben will appreciate that."

Bree smiled. "And you? How do you feel about all this?"

"About which part?" she asked. "The part where I almost died again at the hands of a woman who was infatuated with my fiancé?" Lyrr smirked. "How about the part where my fiancé's ex suddenly showed up to threaten our relationship? Which is it you mean, Counsellor?"

Bree shrugged. "I suppose there's different emotions for each, but actually I wasn't thinking of those things specifically. I didn't realize Emma had operated on you..."

Lyrr cleared her throat uncomfortably. "She did...and was very efficient in her work, as well." Notably, Lyrr recalled the scars from her past, now gone thanks to Emma's handiwork and with it memories she had clung to unyieldingly for years. "She was a plague on us all," Lyrr muttered. "She swept in here, destroying whatever and whoever she pleased, and left us to deal with the aftermath. If she weren't already gone, I would've had her killed."

"I think you might have had to wait in line," mused Bree. "Still, the thought of Ben's child with her... I know he's angry, and he has every right to be, but it is a piece of himself out there no matter how violated he feels."

"A piece of himself now tainted by the Cardassians," Lyrr spat. "Do you know the thought of that alone would kill him? He would be torn between duty, requiring him to rescue the boy, and the disgust he would feel towards that child. He's been corrupted, Counsellor. For Ben's sake, he'd be better off with Oresh."

"And how would you know? Perhaps Oresh is some horrible monster who abuses the child whose only desire is to be loved and protected." Scott barely breathed. "Ben wasn't given a choice then, but he has one now. He was raped, Tayla, and that's not something he can just push aside." As I'm sure you know.

She trembled with a combination of revulsion and anger. "He'll learn," Lyrr rasped. "We all do - learn to overcome our own individual traumas, that is. There isn't time to worry about the child, though. He'll be fine," she whispered absently. "I know it."

"I wish I had your conviction," Bree replied firmly. "Apparently this Oresh did quite a number on others during the Occupation. I looked him up, he earned quite the reputation." Bree forced herself to look at Lyrr directly in the eyes.

There was a detectable note of strain around her tightened lips and eyes, as if a painful memory was being wrestled. Her voice was hoarse when she replied, "He was like the rest of them...but h-he never killed his prisoners. He wasn't like that." As an afterthought, Lyrr added, "At least...that's what I've read."

"That's not in any of the literature," Bree replied quietly. "Are you ready to bring down the walls, Tayla? I assure you, neither one of us will crumble."

She turned a probing, scrutinizing gaze onto Scott and bristled defensively. "You know something...and I can only wonder who told you." Lyrr smiled wryly, then. "Actually...I already know. Though, why Ben would tell you, I can't fathom."

"He loves you, and he just wants you to be happy. It's hard for him to see you so hurt and not know what to do about it. But frankly, it wasn't that hard to figure out. I surmised it pretty quickly from your behavior and past service record."

Lyrr seemed troubled by the revelation. "What about them? I have served commendably over the years - I take pride in that."

"You should," Brennyn affirmed. "I'm not saying you shouldn't. But you have to admit, you and I have been tap dancing around your past for awhile. All I'm saying is you don't have to deny the bad experiences in order to get people to see all the good in you."

"I don't want anyone else to know," Lyrr whispered lowly, even glancing around the private room to insure there were no eavesdroppers. "You know what happened with Oresh, fine. I don't plan on revisiting it, Counsellor. I've gotten over it, with Ben. I'm afraid there's nothing more for you to do."

"You're afraid there's nothing more for me to do, Tayla, but I know there is plenty for me to do. Suppressing this only goes so far. No one else has to know anything, Tayla. I promise you that. I think Ben is terrified of hurting you. He doesn't want you to blame yourself any more than you already do, but he's hurting too."

"What do you mean he's hurting?" Her resistance wearing thin, Lyrr didn't simply dismiss Scott's words now. "Tell me, Counsellor, please. He wouldn't tell me something like that himself. He's too damn proud."

Scott looked her in the eyes and considered her words carefully, trying to be careful not to breach confidentiality. "I can't give you any specifics because of confidentiality restrictions, but consider what he's been through. He's essentially been raped three times, one of those times he was told he had a child he never wanted, and the other a mental bond forged in love was used so that he had to endure the rape and beating of someone he cares about twice."

She took a breath and added gently, "I expect he's confused and angry about a lot, and the last thing he wants is to hurt you, ever. He loves you so much, Tayla, but you can't help each other alone. Not when you both are hurting like this. The fact that you are is nothing to be ashamed of."

"I'm not ashamed of that," Lyrr answered, becoming agitated by her inability to deflect the counsellor's questions. "I'm ashamed of how I...felt with Oresh. It was hard - it wasn't rape, Counsellor, not after a while." She smiled wanly. "That's why I'm so confused, that's why I can't really understand what Ben's going through, no matter how much I want to. I wasn't really raped. I..." Lyrr swallowed hard and gripped the bedsheet for security. "I think I loved him."

Bree said the first thing she had to convey. After battling for so long, this was real progress. "I understand why you could think that. And it's not my place to deny your perceptions. Maybe he wanted you to love him, maybe he needed you to. Here's what I know: you had to cope with a very scary situation, and whatever you did, it enabled you to survive. It doesn't mean there weren't times he didn't rape you, and anyone, no matter what developed later, would feel hurt and angry about that."

"I'm not angry," Lyrr snapped. "I'm just...confused. I don't know how to deal with this, or if there is anything to deal with. Many Bajorans were in my position, and they're fine. As am I. It's simply that...I'm not really sure how Ben truly feels about it."

"Then talk to him," Scott replied quietly. "Ask him honestly how he's feeling. I know he loves you very much and he'll do anything he can to help you. Tell him you're talking to me about these things. As for what you're feeling or not feeling, we don't have to figure it all out now, but we will figure it out. It's alright to feel confused, many Bajorans in your position are dealing with exactly that."

Lyrr smiled grimly. "Oh, I'm not confused about that, Counsellor, not at all. I meant Ben's situation. There isn't a shred of uncertainty involving what happened to me." She shrugged. "I fell in love with a Cardassian, for a time, and for whatever reason. But it still felt the same."

"And you admit there was a time when he raped you?" Her tone was conversational. She was truly seeking clarification.

Her smile wavered. "The first few times, maybe...but that's only because I resisted. After that...he really was gentle, Counsellor." Lyrr sighed. "I know how that sounds to you, but...I was probably better off with him than I would've been on my own, fighting in a resistance cell. I was a rash, stupid girl and would have gotten myself killed. At least with Oresh...I was safe."

Bree nodded, but was inwardly shuddering. "And do you know if he was intimate with other people while he was intimate with you?"

Her posture grew stiff and indignant, but not defensive once again. Lyrr seemed insulted by what she had asked. "He may have been with others," she answered, "but he was only ever intimate with me." Her smile indicated near-conceit. "I'm the only one he loved. He told me."

"I'm curious, why do you think you resisted those first few times with Oresh, Tayla?"

"Wouldn't you, if a man you didn't know was forcing you to sleep with him?" she answered.

"Most definitely," Bree answered. "I'm just not sure I'd be able to forgive him or it and then consent to be intimate later on. Tell me, Tayla, did you receive medical care while you were with Oresh? You were very young, so I imagine you had no experience with contraception or safe sexual practices."

A darkness passed over Lyrr's eyes, one carrying a sense of disappointment and failure. She clenched her jaw and looked away. "I was never...impregnated," she answered tautly. "I was too young to understand how he managed it...maybe we weren't compatible." Visibly, she bristled at the thought that it had been the failings of her race that precluded them from conceiving a child together. And then she was sickened by it altogether, shuddering. "I don't know why that's important. Can we please stop this?"

"One more question if you don't mind," Scott replied, her mind already whirling, considering words and body language. "Was Oresh ever physically violent with you after your feelings changed for him?"

"Of course," she answered perfunctorily. "But he wasn't brutal - it was his way, that's all."

Scott wanted to ask what her definition of brutal was, but she knew Lyrr was exhausted. Bree nodded her thanks, and stood, looking back. "Thank you for your honesty, Tayla. I know it isn't easy for you to talk about this, but it's going to be ok. I hope we can continue our discussions in counseling."

"Perhaps your attention is better focused on the rest of the crew," Lyrr advised, not unkindly. "They will no doubt be in need of your talents, especially after what's happened." She smiled. "I can wait."

Bree smiled warmly. "Thanks for your concern, but I'm not completely alone over at counseling. Besides, you're just as deserving as anyone else. And you did say you wanted counseling...before things got hectic."

She expressed a near grimace, but maintained her pleasant smile. "Well...I'll need to think about that once more. I'll be sure to get back to you on it, Counsellor."

"Oh I know you will," replied Bree. "I'll come by again soon." She met her gaze then and really held it for a moment, hoping to express genuine care. "Really, Tayla, I appreciate your openness. You and I can work through it."

Seeming none too enthusiastic, Lyrr tipped her head at the counsellor. "Thank you for stopping by," she told her in subtle dismissal.

Taking the hint, Bree nodded her thanks and left, thoughts of their conversation keeping her awake all night.

---

"Reunion...Of Sorts"
By: Commander Lyrr Tayla
Lt. Commander Benedict T'Kal

Location: Sickbay, USS Sulu
Stardate 57910.23, 22h45

***

After an entire day and a half restricted to a bed, Lyrr doubted she would ever complain about sleep deprivation again. She was so well-rested, Lyrr could hardly keep still, fidgeting with her hands, jiggling her feet and watching the sheets over top them dance like waves.... One attempt at rising had proven almost successful - she was nearly upright by the time Dr. M'lira caught her, but by then she was so light-headed the Caitian only had to order her back to bed once before she willingly complied.

Reading damage and progress reports was no better, not when she was helpless to provide assistance. She and Matt both were cooped up in sickbay, leaving the ship without a strong authority presence to keep them grounded and reassured. At one point she had considered a ship-wide announcement, commending the crew on their fine work in getting them through the gateway, but her voice had grown hoarse from disuse, and sounding sickly as she tried to raise the crew's hopes would hardly accomplish anything. And Ben... The only news she'd had about him was from Dr. M'lira's reports of his returning health, though he had yet to be released from quarantine, making her only visitors Dr. M'lira, Counsellor Scott, and Rett.

Lyrr sighed with near-longing, drawing her knees up to her chin and nestling her cheek upon them. A reunion over the comm channels was not the way Lyrr wished to reconnect with Ben. She wanted to see him standing before her, smiling and gazing at her with those bright eyes that had a way of causing her stomach to flutter. The same effect could hardly be achieved over an audio transmission, and it would no doubt only exacerbate her urgent need to see him.

Closing her eyes, Lyrr imagined him there, despite all she and Rett had discussed. Even with renewed doubts, she couldn't change what she felt for Ben. Lyrr wreathed her arms around both legs and squeezed, but it was no substitute for the warm, protective embraces Ben could offer. After all that had happened, she certainly could use one right about now.

***

Benedict stepped back into Sickbay wearing a new Class A uniform, his hair bound tightly in a long ponytail and with his own features at last. Doctor M'lira had finally gotten around to removing the Drokari disguise, and he was feeling totally fit after the nanites had done their work upon him. He'd been told that Lyrr was eager to see him, chafing at her confines and otherwise being her normal irascible self. So as Benedict looked toward her bed he grinned and approached. Just seeing her sitting up and smiling, hugging her knees as she saw him made him glad.

He stopped close to the bed and just looked down at her. The dark dancing eyes and high cheekbones, the delicate arched brows and the full lips pulled into a smile as she looked up at him. He wanted to sweep her into his arms and carry her away to their quarters, but he restrained his impulses enough to simply lean down and kiss her. It was a soft caress of lips, which grew as his arms circled her waist and drew her into an embrace.

It proved to be all she had been waiting for, though she couldn't be sure if it was the kiss making her heady, or having been confined to bed for nearly two days on her back. She preferred the more romanticized explanation and returned the kiss until she was too dizzy to remain upright on her knees. Gripping the front of his shirt between clenched fingers, Lyrr unsteadily pulled away and smiled up at his unaltered face, glad that a Drokari version of Ben wasn't the first she laid eyes upon.

"Much better," she whispered, though with a slight look of uncertainty. She pushed a loose strand of black hair behind one ear and inspected it. The dubious expression vanished once she verified the pointed ears had been removed. Lyrr chuckled. "Very much better."

He laughed softly at her inspection and brushed his fingers through her own short locks. "Prophets it's good to see you." He kissed her softly and pressed his brow to hers. "I love you," he whispered as he drew her into a tight hug. "I'm so sorry, Love..." he whispered fiercely. "I didn't know." He just held her tightly, rocking her slightly as he concentrated on the feel of her against him.

"No one knew," she reassured him. "But I'm alright - we all are. Let's not dwell on it." She pulled back and smoothed her finger across his cheek to soothe him. "I'll be on my feet within days. But, being here isn't so bad. It gives us a chance to talk...about a lot of things."

He sat on the edge of her bed, sliding his hands down her arms to take her hands in his. "I've already spoken to Tebrianne," he said, gazing into her eyes. "She'll be leaving on the Nightingale when it goes back to the Alpha Quadrant." His voice was entirely calm. "I'll be staying here with you."

Lyrr raised an eyebrow. "Does this mean you didn't know whether you were staying or going before now?"

"No... I mean not that...but...things were so...unclear." He shrugged. "Her coming back and everything happening...it was difficult to sort out my feelings...and the blood bond is still there." He looked her in the eyes. "I never once felt any differently toward you...but I was confused. But Teb is my past, Tayla. I can't go back there, and I don't want to. No matter what we had together, I couldn't let you go. I won't let you go, Tayla. Ever." He squeezed her hands tightly for emphasis. "I love you."

"And you love her," Lyrr reminded him. "And...and I've been thinking about things while I've been here, and...." Rett's advice came back to provide Lyrr with courage. She wasn't being paranoid or insecure - her doubts had some foundation. "I'm not the only woman you love," she reiterated. "That means it's possible, in life, to find your heart drawn to more than one person, that the one you choose may not always be the right one." Lyrr gazed up at him and remembered her dream, remembered her reaction to it the moment she sensed a threat to what she and Ben had. It was too frighteningly similar to what she had experienced with Oresh, and it gave further credence to her doubts. "Prophets," she whispered. "Ben...what if we aren't supposed to be together? What if our relationship is preventing you from being with Tebrianne, or Ensign Lektar, or any other woman you're meant to be with!" Lyrr shivered and shook her head slowly. "What if this is wrong?"

"I love her, that's true," he admitted. "But I'm in love with you." He reached up and cupped her chin so that she couldn't look away. "The very fact that I can let her leave and never see her again.... I choose you. I'm not interested in being with Ensign Lektar. She is my friend, and that is all it will ever be. I can only be with one woman, Tayla. That's you. If we weren't meant to be together we wouldn't be! If Tebrianne's return can't separate us, and Catherine Page's revenge didn't succeed, don't you think that's evidence enough at what fate has for us? And until a Prophet stands before me and tells me to my face that we aren't meant to be - I refuse to think that we aren't meant to walk the same path. Before we marry we'll visit the Holy Shine and ask them and settle the matter. Until then I do not want to hear another word about who I choose as my woman! It's you, Tayla. Get used to it!" He gripped her shoulders and shook her slightly. "I'm not going anywhere. What we have is not wrong! Do you love me?" He asked firmly.

"I feel that I do," she answered, grief-stricken and seeking to wrench her arms free, "but I don't know if I'm classifying it right...I don't know if it's possessiveness or love anymore!" Lyrr turned her head away, avoiding his gaze. "We moved so fast...there wasn't time to be sure. Chala and Adancea," she whispered. "What if it's more one than the other?"

Benedict frowned as he let her go, then cupped her face in his hands and turned her to look at him. "I know how I feel about you, Tayla, but if you're not sure...if you think that we went too fast and after everything that's happened over the last few weeks.... Then I'll do anything you ask. I want you to be sure of how you feel. I don't want any questions to come between us. I love you. It's not about physical attraction; if that was all there was between us I wouldn't have been able to turn away from Tebrianne." She was obviously plagued with doubts and after Catherine Page's attempt on their lives, it was understandable. "What do you want, Tay? What do you want to do?" His violet eyes held hers, and he knew that he'd do whatever she asked.

She groaned miserably and closed her eyes under his sullen gaze. "I don't know.... I can't imagine you with anyone else, and I can't imagine myself with another man, either. But...I don't know if that's because there is no one else, or...if I'm too afraid of being alone again to see if that's true." Lyrr whimpered softly as she pushed her cheek into his palm; each fit so perfectly against the other. So, why were things so wrong? "I'm sorry," she whispered, laughing softly and again drawing away from him. "I think I'm just...tired or...who knows. There's still plenty of time before the wedding to figure things out, right?"

"I'm certain of what I want, Tay. You can take all the time you need to figure out what you want. If it's not me, then...that's my karma. I'll do whatever you need, Love. If you think it's been too fast...do you want me to go back to single quarters?" His violet eyes searched hers. "There's plenty of time, Love...all the time you need." He leaned down and kissed her softly. "Get some sleep, Love...you need it."

"I've slept enough," she muttered, irritated now by his attempts at placating her. He was being particularly understanding, and Lyrr couldn't abide it. She twisted her head away from his lips and shifted restively in bed until her back was facing him, to stare sullenly at the opposite wall. "I'm not a child," she whispered angrily. "And I'm not a fool. Do you actually think I believe any of that Karma tripe?" Lyrr snapped her head around to watch him askance. "If this is to work, it'll work because of us, not because of some abstract, cosmic force. Us, Ben! Passivity and disinterest is not going to do us any damned good. Where the hell is your fire?" She jerked around to face him again. "When the hell did you become so docile! You're allowing your life - our lives! - to be ruled by fate, by the Prophets, by your damn Karma. I don't want you with me because it'll gain you points in the Prophets' eyes, or to redeem yourself. I want you with me because you want to be here!" She held up her hand before he could reply. "I know...you've already told me that's what you want, but it still isn't clear what your motivations are. Love?" Lyrr laughed wryly. "Are you sure? Will we ever be sure?"

He stared at her change in mood and raised an eyebrow. "I never said I was passive - or disinterested," he said calmly. "I couldn't be more interested. What do you want me to do, Tay? Get angry because you're sitting here telling me you might find someone else that you might love better? Is it because I chose you over Tebrianne and you think that I found someone better so you could too?" His voice rose slightly as he gestured. "It's not like that at all! I've changed a lot in five years and so has she! She's no longer the woman I loved - there's just too much water under the bridge to start off where we left off and I love you. I just couldn't give you up, Tay. You question my motivation! Prophets, girl, if I didn't love you I'd be with Tebrianne! Think about it! Where in the seven hells are all these doubts coming from? One minute you're fine and the next you're coming out with this..." He left the sentence unfinished as he stood and sighed heavily. "We'll talk later. I'll move my things back to single quarters. Give you some space to think on it."

Lyrr gripped his arm to hold him back. Her eyes were glistening with moisture as she peered up at him. "Just answer me this." Her voice had softened considerably. "You threw Tebrianne away out of giri - duty and obligation to me. What if the Prophets don't approve our union, Ben? Will you simply turn your back on me, too?"

This time there was fire in his violet eyes. "I did not choose you out of a sense of obligation, Tayla. I did not throw Tebrianne away! My duty to you and Captain Salinger is beside the point. This is a matter of the heart, Tayla, and I can't help the way I feel; I love you. I'm going to marry you. If you still doubt me when we get to Bajor we'll ask the Prophets for a blessing. That's the way of our people, Tay. All I can say right now is you are my choice. I never thought that I could love anyone more than Tebrianne; but I was wrong. Maybe there is someone else out there better suited to you. That's your choice to make. I've made mine. I have no regrets about it."

Lyrr's uncertainties were repelled by Ben's fervor and vehemence. She appreciated Rett's concerns and his advice, but even though there was truth in his words, Lyrr wasn't ready to surrender to them yet. Her fingers slid from his forearm to his hand, threading between his. Warm, brown eyes smiled up at him as she brought T'Kal's palm to her lips and kissed the very center of it. "Maybe there is someone else," she agreed, still caressing his hand with her lips. "But I'm not willing just yet to explore that possibility. Just... no more of that Karma drivel, alright?" She smiled fondly. "It's just you and I, remember? Nothing else."

"Just you and I," he affirmed. "Nothing else." He looked down into her eyes and his own softened as he smiled. "No karma. No fate but what we make for ourselves." He leaned down and kissed her brow sliding an arm around her to hold her close.

"Sorry," she murmured as her arms slipped around his waist. "It's just some of the things Cathy Page said.... I can't get them out of my head, and they worry me." Lyrr chuckled weakly and held him tighter. "Think you can pull some strings and get me out of here? Being stuck in this bed, alone to dwell on my thoughts isn't helping matters."

"What did she say, Love?" he asked as he held her tightly. "She's a liar, a thief, and a murderer. She twists truth to suit her needs and uses people for her own ends. I have no doubt that she killed the real Emma Summers. She has no redeeming qualities. I think that anything she said is a lie."

Lyrr relaxed, grateful for Ben's choice of words. She could now, without scruple, disregard any mention of Ben's child. According to him, that was a lie too.... "Yes," she sighed, nestling her cheek into his chest, "let's just forget every word."

"At least we know that she's gone and will never come back," he whispered. "I don't know what I would have done if you'd died." He kissed the top of her head and sighed. "Let's just erase everything that happened in that other place. Nothing was real. It never happened."

Lyrr craned her neck to smile at him. "Good idea," she answered fervently. "Already forgotten." And it was, too, for despite what she had promised Counsellor Scott, Lyrr had no intention of ever mentioning Benjamin. He was as good as dead, to her. Grinning with renewed vigor, Lyrr shoved over on the bed and pulled back the sheets in offering. "Stay for a while?" Her smile was tempting, and the glimpse of pale thigh even more so. "Please?"

Benedict raised a brow and chuckled. "I don't think Sickbay is an appropriate place, Tayla!" He shook his head and laughed. "You're incorrigible." He kissed her tenderly, fully enjoying the sensation of her lips and her arms wrapped around him. After a while he broke the kiss and cupped her cheeks in his hands. "I love you, Tayla, and I'll never love another. There'll never be anyone between us again. I promise you that. I belong to you as you belong to me."

She cradled her hand against his, and realized then her own was trembling. "Just us," she affirmed. "No one else exists." And it would be true for as long as she could keep the counsellor's mouth shut. The child was already lost to him now - too long in the hands of the Cardassians. Things were better this way. Lyrr trapped his lips in another kiss, and sighed in disappointment when they were forced to part. "You'll stop by again tomorrow," she told him expectantly. "And you're not leaving here without me, then."

"That depends on what the doctor says," he grinned. "If you do get out of here, I want you to rest completely for a couple of days until you regain your strength. I'll be back in the morning before I go on shift. There's a lot to do, but I'll see what M'lira says about you staying in our quarters."

"Our quarters," Lyrr repeated dreamily. "I'm glad that still holds. And I'm glad we talked, Ben. I think things are...a lot clearer now." She smiled, though there was self-satisfaction hidden in it. No one else would have him, ever, whether or not he was the right man for her, as Rett alluded to. He was hers, and that was all that mattered to Lyrr.

Benedict nodded and brushed his hand across her cheek. "I'll be back later. Behave," he warned with a grin. "Be nice to the nurses."

Lyrr smiled in challenge and watched T'Kal's back as he retreated. Before he was too far, she called out, "Daeren."

He stopped and turned; his expression one of puzzlement. "Daeren?"

She grinned. "Your reward for returning to me - the name of our first son."

He grinned and laughed as he turned and left Sickbay. They had plenty of time for that discussion later.

---

"Drinking In The Dark"

Ensign Shirik Lektar, Operations
Ensign Mason Farrell, Operations

Location: Arboretum, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57910.23, 23h45

***

The arboretum was dark, in night mode. Overhead, stars winked in the holographic sky, and a light breeze moved between the various plant life.

Inside the Tasmos Cave, as it had come to be known, Shirik sat in the darkness. She wore her tight-fitting black exercise suit, her kemla strapped to her thigh and her hair in a braid down her back. On the floor of the cave beside her sat a half-empty flask of Drokari wine, and she was squatted down plucking black fuzz from the wall of the cave and stuffing it into a small pouch cradled in her hand.

"Hello?" twanged the voice behind her.

She jumped, almost knocking the bottle over as she reached for her blade and had it out and poised to strike in front of her in one silent move. She narrowed her eyes at the warm red form her heat vision showed her. "What are you doing here?" she asked gruffly.

"I was lookin' for a place to sit and do some thinking," he said, nonplussed. It occurred to her that he probably couldn't see her knife. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm..." She blinked, but didn't lower the blade. "Harvesting tasmos," she said, her syllables slurred a bit by the wine. "Computer, increase lighting in the cave to 20% of normal." The light came up, dimly, but enough so he could see her, and her blade.

"And it's a high-security operation, is it?" he quirked a smile. "All dressed up to run a commando raid on the Tasmos patch?"

She frowned a bit and slipped the blade back into its sheath. "I just finished my workout a little while ago," she said. "I came here to rest and harvest some tasmos." Her body language was defensive, as if she expected to be attacked at any moment.

They watched each other passively for a time. Finally, Farrell broke the silence. "You ok?"

"Yes, of course. I'm fine," she said stiffly, but her eyes said something different. They looked tired, and troubled. "You?"

"Truth be told, I'm not terribly sure," he replied. "What are you drinkin'?"

She blinked again, and looked down at the bottle beside her a bit sheepishly. "Drokari wine..." she said quietly. She curled a hand around the neck of the bottle and picked it up, offering it to him. "Want some?"

"Depends. Do you want some company?"

She hesitated, as if thinking about her answer. "If you're not here to mock me.... yes."

"Fair enough. No mocking," Farrell said, sliding to the ground and settling against the wall of the cave. "So what brings you here to drink and cut Tasmos off the wall in the dark?"

She closed the pouch in her hand and slipped it into a pocket on her hip before settling down to sit opposite him. Since he hadn't yet taken the offered bottle, she took a swallow from it herself before offering it once more. "Like you, I wished some quiet time to... reflect."

He took the bottle this time, swigged back a mouthful, and handed it back. "Hell of a week," he said simply.

"Indeed," she agreed. "Sometimes it almost seems like it didn't happen, was just a nightmare. I wish I could keep hold of that thought all the time." She took another swallow herself.

"At least we got back."

She was quiet for a time, and offered him the bottle again. "If we hadn't.... I would have survived there." She sounded almost like that would have been a crime in itself.

He chuckled darkly. "Me too."

She studied him for a time. "I believe you would. We do have some things in common..." she mused.

"Reckon that's true," Farrell murmured, accepting the bottle again. "What would you have done? To survive, I mean? Stayed a princess?"

She shook her head. "I couldn't have stayed a princess there... That is a place where my heritage would have marked me as a prize. I would have been that prize, for a time. Just until I could escape. I found a place I could have gone to, I think."

"Oh? Where would you have gone?"

"There was an organized Resistance fighting the Empire. I think I would have tried to join them." She took another swallow from the bottle. "Although it's just as likely I'd have been tortured or experimented upon for someone's amusement and have no chance to go anywhere." She handed the bottle over again.

Farrell took another drink thoughtfully. "Hell of a week."

She nodded. "I've begun to wonder... if I will ever feel 'normal' again," she said quietly.

"The times, they are a-changin'," Farrell said with a tired smile. "Nobody stays normal."

"I suppose not," she murmured. "What was it you wanted to think about?" She leaned back against the cave wall, her eyes slightly glazed.

"Love. The future. Friendship. The usual," he said, the quip falling flat.

"Aahhh...." she said knowingly, with a faint smile. "Are you in love?"

He chuckled again, but this one was more genuine. "Yup. And I don't know where to go with it."

Her smile faded. "That depends, I suppose... Does she love you, also?"

"Oh yeah," he nodded. "I certainly don't deserve it, but heaven help her, she loves me anyway."

"Then I'd say you have one major hurdle already out of the way," she said quietly, reaching to take another swallow from the bottle.

"Yeah. But she's leaving."

"Leaving?" she frowned. "Why?"

"She got accepted to Starfleet Medical. She starts in the next academic quarter."

"I see... so what will you do?" She took another swallow, and handed the bottle back.

"I will stay on this hellship until I can transfer off. And who knows how long that will take?" He took a solid slug from the bottle at that.

She raised an eyebrow at him at that. "You find it unbearable here now?" she asked.

"Without her? Probably," he said. "I'm surprised this ship survives. The captain's an insecure last-worder who's more interested in balling the science chief than in command. The XO thinks I'm unfit for sentience. The Chief of Security, a former terrorist, is certain I'm a menace to this ship and everyone on it, which is hilarious, since he apparently never had any idea that goddamn Emma Summers was engineering lethal viruses in the science labs on her offtime. Some security group we've got, eh? Oh, and did I mention the XO's banging the Security Chief? Can't forget that, now can we?

"I've been in Starfleet longer than the Ops Chief's been alive, but he's a lieutenant commander. I wish I had a dedicated cheerleader named Commander Maddox singin' my praises to Starfleet Command on a weekly basis, but I guess we can't always get what we want.

"I got demoted, and was warned by everyone at the time that I'd better keep my head down for a while. So I did. For four years on the USS Ranger, I kept my head down. I figured I was past it by that point, and I'd be able to get proactive again and contribute to a crew instead of marking time and hoping no-one noticed me. I came aboard Sulu in the middle of a murder scandal and my contributions were dismissed. I saved Commander Lyrr's life, and in the process made an enemy of that strutting moron T'Kal, who should have thanked me for preserving his prize snatch. I had to stand by and watch as the ship was nearly destroyed by the captain's desire to talk to a bunch of aliens hell-bent on destroying it, when my people had their number and could have eliminated them. I had to stand there while the Security Chief laughed at ideas I had when he came to me for a plan to get us out of the goddamn alternate universe. This ship's cursed, and the people in charge are too wrapped up in sex and ego to actually lead it.

"So now," he sighed, apparently reaching his end. "Now, I've finally met somebody who was a foundation for me. Somebody who kept me together, kept me centered, kept me sane. Somebody who was worth all the pain and the stupidity I have to deal with on a regular basis. And now she's leaving." He took another deep drink, silencing himself.

She was silent for a long time after he finished speaking, just watching him and thinking. Finally she said, "One wonders what your opinion of me is in all that." She was sure she didn't really want to know. "It seems to me there is only one logical choice for you... To go with her, if that's possible."

"Yeah," he said. "Pity it won't happen."

"Why not?" she asked curiously.

"Already been denied. We need the personnel, apparently. Not that I'm allowed to do anything."

"Oh." She frowned slightly. It hadn't occurred to her that if someone wanted to leave, they might not be allowed to. "I'm sorry."

"Well hey, it keeps me around to torment you, right?" he tried a smile, but it came off artificial.

"Indeed," she said, offering a small returning smile of her own. She reached for the bottle to take another swallow, and thus emboldened asked, "So then... what is your opinion of me?" She steeled herself for the worst.

Farrell studied her for a time. "I think you've damaged your status in the ship's community through your various romantic attachments. Too many people view you through that prism. But you knew that."

She nodded. "True. But that didn't really answer my question, either."

"For myself, I think you do good work. But I think you're digging around for some kind of romantic attachment when you don't need one."

She gave a short laugh. "Digging for? No... They somehow find me when I don't want them. I've been here less than six months and not one but two men have told me they loved me." She shook her head. "I used to think love might be something I was looking for, but now I only want it out of my life. For you, for humans, Bajorans, non-Drokari, love is a wonderful thing. But for my people... I understand so much more now about why my people have no love, why they shun it. Love for us is a painful thing, a frightening thing... No, all I want is what anyone wants, to be happy with my life. I was, once. Lately it's been derailed, and I need to get it back on track somehow..." she trailed off, taking another swallow from the bottle.

"So what's your plan?" he asked.

"I don't really have one... that's why I'm here." she sighed and closed her eyes, leaning back against the rock wall.

"Nothing?"

She shrugged. "I had thought of leaving... but if they wouldn't let you, they probably wouldn't let me, either." She opened her eyes. "I can't leave anyway... Leaving would be running away from my problems, wouldn't it?"

"What problems?" Farrell asked. "Your reputation is a little shaky, but it can be fixed. You just need to...get out more."

"I have more problems than you know about, or that I usually let on about," she sighed. "Our trip to that other universe took a toll on everyone, I was no exception. And I'm in a situation I don't know how to get out of, and part of me doesn't want to get out of it, and I don't know if that's good or bad.... It's very complicated."

"Try me."

She looked up at him, her gaze meeting his. "Can I trust you?" she asked.

"Implicitly."

"How much do you know about Vulcans?" she asked, eyeing the bottle, which was mostly empty. "We need more wine," she observed.

"Well, the stupid cafe thing Corran set up is over there," Farrell pointed out of the cave. "He had a replicator hookup. Come on," he said, rising and offering her a hand.

She swallowed what was left in the bottle before slipping her hand in his and getting to her feet with only a slight wobble. Her hand was feverishly warm in his. "Lead the way."

"You sure you're alright?" he asked, replicating a large beaker of something he called tequila.

"More alright than you'll be in a while," she chuckled softly. "I've been drinking Drokari wine all my life, but you..." she shrugged. "More margueritas?"

"Nope," he said, setting out the bottle and the two tiny glasses next to a dish of green citrus wedges. "This is a lime. Let me show you how to do this."

She watched curiously as he demonstrated, and then imitated, swallowing the shot he poured for her and following it with a bite of lime and a grimace. "Ugh... You'd rather do this than drink Drokari wine?" She set the empty shot glass on the counter. "Where were we... Oh. Vulcans. What do you know about Vulcans?"

"Sharp. Sharp-eared. Sharp-tongued. Sharp-witted. 'Bout what everybody knows about Vulcans. Why?"

"Because I've learned a hell of a lot more about them," she said. "I accidentally got mate-bonded to one." She gestured for another shot.

"Really?" Farrell wondered aloud. "What's that like?"

"It's.... scary, confusing, but at times, very nice." She frowned slightly. "Mostly confusing." She downed another shot, but this time skipped the lime. "At first, it was very nice. Very... comfortable. It wasn't a commitment such as humans make, we both knew it was temporary, until he could find another to bond with, and in the meantime we decided to simply explore and experience it, with no strings attached." She sighed. "But then the Enforcers came on board, and Hadek tortured me, and beat Saavar almost to death because of me, and then I went off on this mission, and just before I left... He told me he loves me." She poured herself another shot and downed it.

"And you still want it stringless?" he asked, dropping a shot of his own and blinking hard.

"All I know is I don't love him... at least, not yet. When I'm away from him, I'm torn as to how I feel. Part of me is afraid of him, and that bond, and part of me wants nothing more than to go to him, all the time. When I'm with him, it's so easy to forget everything and just sink into that bond, and feel safe and comforted... too easy. At times I don't know how much of what I think and feel is really mine, and how much is his, or induced by the bond. The only other person on board who has any experience with this at all is Ben... and he told me that the bond could make me fall in love with Saavar, whether I want to or not. If I do have feelings for Saavar, how will I know if they're real at all?"

"Ben?" Farrell asked. "How does T'Kal know anything about mate-bonding?"

She rolled her eyes. "Because he's mate-bonded to Tebrianne."

"Then why's he still bangin' Lyrr?"

"Because he's in love with her. As far as he knew, Tebrianne was dead years ago, and he moved on. He proposed to Lyrr, and he's going to marry her." She poured another shot, scowling at the glass as she did.

"Sounds like this bond won't make people love each other at all," Farrell idly scratched his nose.

She sighed. "He still loves Tebrianne, too." She shut her mouth then, not about to say anything more on that subject. Instead she asked him, "How do you know when you love someone?"

Farrell considered that for a few moments. "When you don't think you can handle the thought of leaving them, or having them leave you," he said, nodding his satisfaction with his answer.

She thought about that as she frowned into her glass. "Hm," was her grunted answer before she downed its contents.

"Hm?" he grunted back. "Hm what?"

She shrugged as she set the empty glass down. "Given that criteria, I'll have to re-evaluate how I feel, I imagine, and see if it fits. But there must be more to it than that..."

"Like what?" It wasn't a confrontational question, just curious.

"I don't know," she said rather helplessly. "I've never been in love, I've never known anyone who was in love, I've never seen love until I joined Starfleet... I'm not sure it's something my species is truly capable of, the way you are."

"So what's the crux of the concern? That your bond with whichever Vulcan you bonded to will compromise you in some way?"

"I just have all these mixed feelings about it. I'm sure I don't love him... but I feel guilty for that sometimes. Part of me feels like I should love him, and something's wrong with me that I don't. And I don't really want to get rid of the bond, and that scares me because I don't know if it's some kind of addiction or compulsion, or what. And I do like being with Saavar, but if I did fall in love with him, I'd always wonder if it was real, or if it was induced. I'm afraid of losing myself, my identity, and becoming part of him." She frowned in confusion. "And I don't know if he really loves me, either, or if that was induced."

"He's a Vulcan. Does he have any idea what love feels like?" Farrell took another shot.

"I asked him once, before this happened, if he'd ever been in love, and he said no. So I'd say not. So how does he know he loves me?" she frowned once more in confused thought. "How do you and Ainsley know you love each other?"

"Well, we're both human, so we're raised with the concept," Farrell said, considering another shot, but choosing to talk instead. "It's a matter of trust and safety; a feeling of safety when you're with the other person. Being able to tell each other anything, and being able to listen to each other with honesty and consideration. But there's also a proximity facet. Thinking about the other when you're apart," he circled a hand in the air, trying to articulate another thought, and couldn't form it. "That sort of thing," he finished lamely.

She was about to reply when he started up again. "But humans are. . . clingy like that. We get very close when we're in love. And it's a desired closeness, not something that we default to. If you're with somebody just because you're used to them being around, that's not something a human would call love. In fact, I'd call it sad."

"Then basically, I'm not going to know exactly what is real until I get rid of the influence of the bond," she frowned.

"Sounds that way to me," Farrell nodded, a little too broadly. "Talk to T'Kal. Apparently he's figured it out."

"I don't know that I'd go that far... He's simply told Tebrianne he's chosen someone else, and she's elected to leave. With her gone, I imagine it won't be as much of a problem."

"Has the bond got a range?"

"I'm not sure... Saavar told me that his wife and he could sense each other while we're out here in the Gamma Quadrant, and Ben said he could still sense Tebrianne even though she was in another universe, but it was more like dreams."

"Then how can either of them leaving solve anything?" Farrell settled for smelling his shot, and then set the glass down.

"Perhaps they don't think they have any other options. Realistically, unless they want to hunt down a High Priestess of Gol...." she shrugged.

"So. . . what, they're just gonna ignore the bond?"

"I don't know. He was able to fall in love with Lyrr with the bond, maybe distance lessens the effects."

"But," Farrell gestured with the glass for emphasis. "If the bond confuses you about what you're feeling, how does he know he's in love with Lyrr? How does he know he's not in love with Bancroft and just thinks he's in love with Lyrr? If it mixes up love so bad that nobody knows who's feeling what, how can he claim to love anybody? I'm drunk."

Shirik laughed. "It sounds like it," she grinned. "I don't know what's going on with Ben and his relationships, and I don't want to know. I have enough trouble with my own. Maybe it's different for him, because he's Bajoran and Human, and not Drokari."

"So what're you going to do?"

"I'm going to talk to Saavar, and see what we can do. I don't think we'll have the opportunity to chase down a High Priestess of Gol, either. I guess we'll work it out somehow."

"So have him bond with someone else," Farrell shrugged. "Another Vulcan, so his emotions won't be cloudy. Or does it even have to be a person? Gui's got a dog."

She gave him an annoyed look. "What if I told you to go fall in love with someone else. Or maybe with a dog. Could you? Same thing."

"Well now wait a minute," he said. "You said this bond isn't about love. It creates it, right? People don't bond because they're in love, right? They bond to find it."

"No, I said Ben said it would make me love Saavar if I didn't already... He loved Tebrianne before they were bonded." She frowned to go over her words and make sure she'd said it right, then nodded vigorously and poured another shot. "All I want is what anybody wants, really. Just to be happy with my life. At least I have a couple friends... Caly's my friend. Cris was my friend, before..." she trailed off, looking glum, and downed her shot.

Farrell eyed her, one eye open slightly more than the other. "It just hit me what your problem is."

"Hm?"

"You're not content with yourself," he said simply. "You don't like being alone with yourself."

"Maybe... I roomed with Calyca for two years my last assignment... and I don't see much of her now. I miss her. I miss having a friend to talk to about anything, any time."

"What are you doing right now?"

"Getting drunk with you," she said, eyeing him. "But are you my friend?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" he asked. "You're in Ops, and you're not Sam."

She grinned. "Is that the only requirement you have for friends?"

"Yep," he said simply. "Does it not show?"

"Not really. But then, I've been avoiding you anyway."

"That's probably all that's kept you in the good graces of Security," Farrell chuckled.

"Not the only thing, I'm sure, but maybe one of them," she grinned. She poured herself another shot and shrugged. "Actually, I feel more like I fit in in that department than my own... I barely know anyone from Ops other than you."

"Whose fault is that?"

"Mine, I imagine... But the only reason I know people in Security is they invited me to dine with them. No one from Ops ever has."

Farrell laughed out loud. "And why do you suppose the Security breakfast crowd moved to curry favor with you?"

"Are you saying the Ops crew don't find me attractive?" she grinned.

"Not at all," Farrell grinned. "You're plenty attractive, as women go. And I bet that's why the security crew snuggled up to you, too. But it's a different attraction."

Her eyebrow went up. As women go? She wondered if he found men attractive, too. "Different how?" she asked.

"You're the Chief's friend, using the term broadly. Being your friend means they've got perk potential."

"Ahh... well, see? If I become friendly with you, the rest of the department may try to snuggle up to me, too." She smiled, but it faded after a moment. "At least I know Caly isn't my friend to use me." She noticed that her glass was still full, and remedied that.

"Oh, come on now," Farrell jibed. "What in the world is gained from cozying up to me? For anybody? See, you're willing to let other people completely define who you are. The security people are just symptomatic."

"They don't define who I am. I enjoy their company, and I rather like the attention. At least they wanted my company enough to ask for it. They're not afraid to say hello to me. I think you Ops boys are just intimidated." She smiled and nodded once more.

He laughed aloud again. "Fair enough," he said.

"Well, at least we both seem to be feeling better than we were when we got here... I suppose I should thank you for that. Although it might be the drink." She smiled.

"Might be," Farrell nodded. "But you never know what can happen when you actually reach out."

She nodded. "I don't know about you, but I've had enough drink, and it's late... I should try to get some sleep. So should you." She rose to her feet a bit unsteadily, and stood there until she felt more stable. "Goodnight, Farrell." She turned and made her way through the dark to the exit, and moved out into the corridor beyond, walking stiffly as she tried to look sober.

---