"Why is it you never wrote about this place?"

N'Vek stood upon the ancient battlements of Fort Clinch, gazing out to sea. The tide was high, and waves crashed on the rocks just beneath the walls below. In his mind, this was the perfect setting for a story that would interest him. But then again, he wasn't the writer.

"I suppose since I spent so much time here at Amelia Island off and on, it was never of interest to me," Lorna answered. "I've always been fascinated by other worlds, and I never wanted any of my stories to take place on Earth."

"All the more reason you should do something your readers won't expect," he suggested.

"Hmm…maybe I will."

He could tell by her tone that the idea wasn't of much interest to her, and decided not to press the matter any further.

Lorna was enduring another writer's block. Pleasing her would be nearly impossible until she came out of it. There were times when he wished she would stop looking at everything from the perspective of a storyteller and relax for once. But that was like asking the galaxy to stop turning. It was who she was, and he had long ago accepted that when he married her. Occasionally, distracting her temporarily was possible. For the sake of his sanity, he'd at least attempt it.

N'Vek pouted his lips in the way Lorna had once told him she found utterly irresistible. "I've always wanted to live on the sea since I was a boy. Would you consider…?"

"You want to live here?" She blinked in surprise.

"Only if it doesn't drive you any crazier than you already are," he stipulated, grinning to make sure she would know he was only half serious.

"Oh, my dear," she sighed, "I've been neglecting you again. How can I make it up to you—besides putting Fort Clinch into a story, or anything else involving writing?"

"So many conditions," he teased, kissing her forehead, "But for the time being, I'll forgive you if you let me take you to lunch and pay attention to me the rest of the day." He pursed his lips again.

Lorna rolled her eyes. "What am I going to do with you?"

"I already told you what I wanted. But I can think of more things," he added with a wicked smirk. Then his smirk faded. "I'm going to side with Catherine: you need a vacation. And so do I. It's going to be our first year anniversary soon. We should celebrate."

"Alright," she surrendered, much more easily than he had anticipated, "Where do you suggest we go?"

N'Vek had been so caught up in thinking of ways to persuade her to go to start with that he hadn't given much thought to a destination. Naturally, there was a place he wanted to visit, but Lorna was more picky when she was in these odd moods. "I think we should ask Cousin Anatole."

Her face brightened, "That's a good idea."

Relieved and triumphant that he had at least gained some ground that day, N'Vek took his bride into his arms and kissed her with all his heart. Their first year of marriage hadn't been exactly easy; how could a relationship between a human and a Romulan be a simple thing? But as he held Lorna, he knew—just as he had known the first time he had acted on his feelings for her, when they were passengers on the Corvallen ship pretending to be husband and wife—it was all worth it.

"Somewhere you can keep a low profile? Hmm..." Cousin Anatole stroked his gray beard.

Like Lorna, he was also a writer. Though his books had not earned him fame and success, he was in many ways the superior writer. But he was a quiet man, and content with his accomplishments both as a writer and a former school teacher. He wasn't the type of person who needed acknowledgement for his work, but rather, he was satisfied with spending his retirement in contemplation at his family's beautiful pecan plantation on Amelia Island.

N'Vek sipped his coffee. He had been skeptical when Lorna first introduced him to it. But after spending many a tranquil afternoon on Cousin Anatole's front porch, it had become his favorite beverage. He had come to associate it with the arts of the tongue and the mind. Cousin Anatole was a font of information, and N'Vek relished their philosophical discussions. His former life as a soldier and a spy wasn't something he missed at all.

"Well," he drawled in his Georgia accent, "There's always Vulcan."

Now N'Vek smiled into his coffee cup. It was as though he and the venerable Southern gentleman had silently concocted the whole scheme, without speaking a single word. "My mother used to tell me stories about Vulcan," he said, "I've often wondered what it's like."

Lorna thought for a moment. "I certainly don't have much of a fan base there. We won't have to worry about being assaulted by mobs."

N'Vek waited for the rest of her sentence.

"But it sounds dreadfully dull," she confessed. "Dad was stationed there for a few weeks when I was eight. I thought I'd die of boredom."

Cousin Anatole laughed. "Well, of course, if you never leave the Starfleet base. Traveling is all about leaving the beaten path, honey. Being a vegetarian, I should think the cuisine would be right up your alley."

"And you'd like the stories of Old Vulcan," N'Vek added, "They'll remind you of the Arabian Nights."

"Let's not make any decisions right away," she said.

N'Vek poured everyone another cup of coffee. For the sake of Cousin Anatole sitting right there, he wouldn't push the matter. He could, of course, go to Vulcan by himself. But the thought of leaving Lorna was unbearable. They always did everything together, and he wasn't about to start changing that, no matter how much he yearned to find out more about his people's ancient heritage.

"Thank you, son," said Anatole, after his cup was filled. N'Vek had the feeling their cousin was aware of more than he was letting on, but he would never say a word. N'Vek admired that about him. One of his favorite quotes was "Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak and to remove all doubt." N'Vek agreed there was much wisdom in that adage. It was almost Romulan...almost.

Later that evening, N'Vek and Lorna walked hand in hand along the beach as the sun's rays began to diminish behind the trees.

"Lorna." He stopped walking. "I want to go to Vulcan."

"I know you do. So let's go."

N'Vek blinked in surprise.

She sighed. "I've been thinking only of myself lately. I'm sorry. Let's give it a try."

"I won't force you if you really don't wish—"

She held her finger to his lips. "It's time we did what you wanted for a change. Besides, I'm sure I'll look at it differently now that I'm an adult," she added with a genuine smile.

"You are the best wife in the universe. Do you know that?" He put his arms around her waist and held her close.

"Keep telling me that, and some day you'll convince me," she said with a wink.

Without any warning, he threw her over his shoulder and ran into the surf.

"But I didn't bring a towel!" she squealed, just before going under. When she resurfaced, she put her arms around his neck.

"It's a shame this is a public beach," he said in her ear above the noise of the waves.

Lorna laughed with delight. "You're such a scoundrel! Are you real? Or are you just a figment of my fanciful imagination?"

"I'm real," he assured her, knowing she was completely serious.

"I'm afraid you'll vanish into thin air..." She held his face in her hands, her eyes filling with worry.

N'Vek shook his head, and brushed a strand of wet hair out of her face. "I'll never leave you, my Lorna."

A while back, a reviewer asked for more about N'Vek's background, and what made him the man he came to be. The inspiration for the undeveloped parts of his character on the show came from the song "The Patriot Game," as performed by the Clancy Brothers. I touched on some of this when I wrote Romancing, and now I'm going to try to expand and round out his character.

As I'm sure you've all guessed, this little vacation isn't going to be anything like what either N'Vek or Lorna imagines!

Please review!