It was the first day of the festival, and Tom was fortunate to have had gotten here on time. He was standing on a sub-station that acted as a middleman for carrying passengers and precious cargo to the capital, Alpha Prime, home to the Caleasto Federation's government------ and Op'Helia. His good friend Teraisas was by his side, his long tail wrapped around a small tote bag of his, possibly containing his few personal items. Tom sighed, breathing in the familiar atmosphere. He had been looking forward to seeing this place again, ever since Teraisas gave him the news that his son had been born. Tom walked briskly into the crowd, reveling in his contained excitement. He had a son now; he was a father. And though he was burdened somewhat with the knowledge that he'd never truly be there to watch his son grow up, he at least was enjoying the anticipation of seeing his son . . . and, of course, Op'Helia.
They were able to catch the last transport ship leaving for Alpha Prime. Teraisas informed him that Lin'air and Kathryn would be waiting for them at the docking station. Tom cursed inwardly. He forgot about Lin'air. No doubt the witch would make his stay at the Array an uncomfortable one.
He looked out the window, saw all the familiar stars. He had once piloted through those stars; he had been the best pilot than anyone in the Delta Quadrant had ever known. Those had been the days, when he, Harry and others would play Zedjech all day long. Tom sighed. He missed those days, but as he turned away from the window, he decided that he'd best not reminisce on times that weren't possible anymore. It was dangerous.
He felt underneath him a dull thud and then a tremor as the ship docked into place. He picked up his duffel bag and made his way in a crowd of people to the doors. As he stepped through the threshold, he was caught by surprise. The blue-haired Lin'air was standing against an opposite wall, her arms clasped behind her back as she scanned the crowds for him. Tom was surprised she wasn't wearing some elaborate dress or outfit as so many of her people do. She was alone. Tom had been expecting her to bring security guards with her, not so much to keep him in line, but for her to be safe. And yet she stood there, alone, unaccompanied and nonchalant, studying the crowds for Tom and Teraisas. He made his way over to her, and she caught sight of him. "Mr. Paris," she stated curtly, though not harshly. "Welcome home. Kathryn was unable to accompany me; she had affairs to attend to. Follow me." She turned on the heel of her foot and stepped briskly and easily into the crowd. Tom paused for a moment, a tad bewildered. She had been formal, but not rude. He had been expecting blandishments and sarcasm. And yet there had been none.
As he followed her through the crowd, he had an inkling that she was up to something.
The docking station Naria that hovered in orbit of Alpha Prime was full of aliens and cargo ships. The corridors were full of aliens of every sort, some humanoid; others not even close to humanoid. As Tom elbowed his way through the crowd, he caught a glimpse of a holoemitter giving the daily newscast of the festival. He heard the alien mention the feast at the Ivory Tower, and caught a word or two about the Prime Admiral. But he was positive that the newcaster mentioned something about Op'Helia; he wished he could have heard, but the crowds drowned out the message.
So, Tom, how do you like it in Andronmeda?
He looked at Lin'air, who had her back to him as she walked through the crowds. He caught up to her, but didn't say anything at first. He didn't want to give her the pleasure of knowing he hated it, but he didn't want to say that he liked it either.
"It's fine," he answered curtly.
Harry and B'Ellana are eager to see you. You should see them first before Op'Helia. She is away on official business of mine, but she will be returning shortly.
Tom nodded absently. They turned a corner and found themselves in a deserted corridor. He followed her through a pair of doubled doors and into a transporter room that he instantly recognized as her own. He knew that only certain members of the government were allowed access to this room, much less to use it. Stepping up to the elevated dais, Lin'air nodded once to the officer manned at the console, and Tom dematerialized in a glitter of blue light.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Oh dear . . . she was terribly late----- again. She knew the Prime Admiral would be particularly wroth this time since it was the third time this week. Op'Helia pulled up the hems of her dress so she could run. She cursed this ceremonial dress that she had to wear to the Continuum, but rules were rules, and she had little say in those matters. She fixed her hair as she approached the huge doubled doors, Tuvok opening it for her from the outside and commenting sternly, "You are late."
She managed him a weak smile as she crossed the threshold and entered the huge Main Conference room, Kathryn seated upon the dais with Chakotay standing to her right and Admiral Chester flanked on her left. Lin'air was standing at the base, watching Tom, who was standing at the base of the dais as well, with Harry and B'Ellana behind him. The Prime Admiral was explaining the restrictions to him, she knew. She had been told, very curtly, that during Tom's stay of the Festival week that any interaction between the two of them must be monitored by Tuvok or Teraisas. She fixed her hair for the last time and straightened her dress, and walked over to the dais.
Kathryn was immediately aware of her presence by the steady clicking of her shoes against the smooth, polished floor. She face crested into a frown and said sternly, "You're late again, Op'Helia." Careful not to look at Tom, though she knew he was staring at her, she curtsied elegantly in front of the platform and smiled her apologies.
Kathryn sighed and gave a look to Lin'air. Lin'air arched an eyebrow and the side of her mouth curved a bit. Op'Helia thought this was odd. As she looked up at her Caretaker, she knew immediately that Lin'air had something planned for her. She swallowed hard and managed a nod to the blue haired woman. Lin'air was an expert at hiding her thoughts and feelings; Op'Helia couldn't read her mind the way she could Kathryn's and Tom's and every other human. Op'Helia hoped that her Caretaker wouldn't send her away while Tom was here. That would be cruel.
As she stood up the Prime Admiral returned her attention to Tom. "You understand these restrictions, Mr. Paris?"
Tom grimaced. Op'Helia knew that Tom was thinking the same thing she had when she was informed of the restrictions. They seemed a bit excessive, but Op'Helia knew that according to Caretakian law, Tom was considered a criminal, and the Prime Admiral thought she was doing her duty as a Prime, no matter how much she liked Tom. He nodded silently, but without conviction, and the Prime Admiral turned to her associates and they all gave a curt nod. They then turned to Caretaker Lin'air to have her nod of approval, but to Op'Helia and everyone's great surprise, Lin'air grinned smugly. She almost looked like a child who had a nasty secret she wouldn't divulge and Op'Helia perked an eyebrow. She looked over to the Admirals, and they were staring at her as though they were in the middle of a conversation. She looked back at Lin'air, who was nodding her head.
"But Lin'air," Kathryn began, "are you sure? I mean . . ."
She stopped, and then placed her hand under her chin. Op'Helia looked at Tom, who was looking at her. He gave her a look as though he was asking, what's going on? Op'helia shrugged at him.
"Ahhhh . . ." Kathryn said, leaning into the back of her chair. "I understand. But then they would have the entire fault. Don't you think---" She cut off again and then stared at Lin'air, the other Admirals following her gaze. Op'Helia looked at Lin'air as well. Her face still held the cool, smug look that irritated her so often. She looked back at Kathryn as she spoke, "I understand Lin'air. Clever, very clever."
Op'helia sighed.
* * * * * * * * * * *
It was a beautiful day outside. As Op'Helia walked with Tom through the park, she couldn't help but notice. The sky was a bright blue hue, and whenever she tried to look at it, she couldn't. It was noontide and everything was casted with the sun's yellow glow. They had their arms linked together, and they were walking in silence. They had talked about various things, mostly about Eric, and Tuvok and Teraisas were discreet enough to follow at a comfortable distance so as not to here their conversation.
"Tom," Op'helia said gingerly, "There's something important I need you to answer for me."
He immediately became cautious. "Okay."
"Tell me honestly, since I can read your mind anyway," she turned and faced him, taking him by both arms, "Do you regret being with me?"
Tom stared at her for a moment, and then he smiled. "No," he said, "I regret not being with you. When I'm millions of light-years away from you, I feel like I'm going crazy."
Op'Helia giggled. "Really?" she said wryly. "But you know what they're saying about us as the courts, right?"
Tom rolled his eyes and let out a sigh. "They don't understand anything. Ignore them. They think they know what's going on, but they don't."
"They're calling me a slut, Tom. Do you have any idea how much that hurts?"
Tom grimaced. "Yeah," he said softly, "I do. If there's anyone who's been hurt, it's me. I was a prisoner, remember?"
"Yeah . . . I'm sorry."
"Me too."
She rested her head against his shoulder as they walked. It was nice to be alone with him again, she realized, without the secrecy of brief interludes. But as she cast a glance over her shoulder at the pair of soldiers following them, a part of her also missed the danger of being caught. Op'Helia looked up at Tom. That's all over now, she thought. They had been caught, and now this was their destiny. She settled back into his arm.
It seemed that their meeting was all too brief when Tuvok broke the silence, telling Tom that he had to return to the Council. They had in fact been walking for hours, but Op'Helia still held on to Tom reluctantly. They stopped on the brown trodden path next to a clump of trees with flowering bushes. He looked down at her, and Op'Helia felt a pang in her heart. He looked so melancholy, so beaten, as though his pride had been stripped from him . . . and it had. For the both of them.
"See you at the Festival?" she asked, trying to sound cheery.
Tom huffed. "Hopefully."
She let out a slight laugh, and then reached up and kissed him gently on the cheek. She whispered in his ear, "I love you, Tom Paris," and then she slid past him, not needing to see his face because she already was aware of the emotions swirling within him. She had barely moved a foot away from him when she felt his hand clasp her arm. He gathered her in his arms so very gently and firmly, and casting Tuvok and Teraisas a defiant look, he kissed her, hard. It was familiar, and it was nice. It scarcely seemed to last a second when he pulled away, kissing her hand. He stepped backwards, a forlorn look on his face, and then turned and walked away.
As she watched him go, she let out a breath that she hadn't been aware she was holding. The familiar want coursed through her . . . and she stood there, touching her lips as though she could savor his own. Life isn't fair, she thought suddenly. It just isn't fair.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Tom Paris's day past excruciatingly slow. His stroll with Op'Helia hadn't seem to last long enough, and as he thought more about it, he didn't think it ever would. The idea that they could only spend a certain amount of time with each other, not as much as they liked, certainly put a damper on things. He wasn't about to get picky, though. He knew how to take advantage of oppurtunities, and he wasn't about to give up his walks with Op'Helia out of protest to Lin'air. He wasn't that stupid.
It was night now, and the two moons, one white, the other yellow, hung over the horizon like two huge wraiths. He opened the door gingerly, not wanting it to creak at the hinges and alert any passerbys. He slid through the crack and shut the door with a click.
Op'Helia's room was almost exactly as he remembered it, save one minor change---- the cradle in the corner of room. It blended so perfectly into the backdrop that Tom had to look for it. He crossed the room silently and then peeked over the side. The tiny baby lay swathed in soft blankets, his little hands covered with minuture-like mittens and his face pinched in sleep. Tom looked about him again. He wasn't supposed to be in here, he knew, unsupervised, and if he were caught, it would look particularly bad for him. But the lure of seeing and holding his son without soldiers standing at the doorway was over powering. This was his son, and he wanted some moments, even brief ones, to spend between the two of them.
He picked him up, careful to hold his head and not disturb his sleep, and walked over to a puffy white chair nearby. He sat it a carefully, Eric in his arms. He was so perfect, Tom couldn't help smiling. Soft white fuzz adorned the crown of Eric's head, and Tom knew that was going to be blond, like his parents and most of his ancestors. Was it just him, or did he already see a reflection of himself in his baby's features?
Click.
Tom froze. The door had opened and a swish of fabric entered the room. Conscious not to wake his son, he stood up, ready to explain himself. Surely he or she would understand with the baby in his arms that he only wanted to see his son, and Op'Helia hadn't been in the room at the time . . .
"Tom?" a familiar voice called. He looked over and smiled a bit sheepishly.
"Just wanted to spend some quality time with our son."
Op'Helia let out a laugh at that. She strode over to the pair and lifted Eric from his father's arms. "He's beautiful, isn't he?"
"'Course. He's got you for a mother." Tom smiled and kissed her on the cheek. She carried Eric over to the cradle and set him in it. Fixing the blankets around him, she asked, "Did you only come to see your son, or were you hoping to 'accidentally' run into me?"
Tom walked up behind her. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't." Op'Helia straightened, and then turned to face him. She leaned an elbow on the side of the cradle. "Really?"
He nodded. "I guess if we 'accidentally' run into each other unsupervised, it isn't our fault, is it?"
Op'Helia laughed. "Now that's rationalization if I ever heard it. Do you really think Lin'air or Kathryn would buy that?"
It was Tom's turn to laugh. "No . . . I guess not." They stood in silence for a moment, not wanting the euphoria to wear away. But the outcome was inevitable. "I should go," Tom said reluctantly, and Op'Helia agreed, though with regret. "I'll show you to the door," she said politely, and brushed past him, her shoulder grazing his side. Though the action was simple, Op'Helia had the grace to blush. She knew perfectly well the sort of tension in the air, and if they weren't careful, the current situation could take a drastic and erotic turn.
The main living room was large, and the pair passed an antechamber where Op'Helia's bed was. When Tom glanced at it, familiar memories came flooding back. The night they first made love, in her bed; the sweet words, the overpowering feeling of pleasure and ecstasy; the way her hair felt inbetween his fingers and the smell of her perfume encompassing them both; Tom swallowed hard and glanced at Op'Helia, who was staring at the bed also. She looked up and smiled weakly. She opened her mouth the say something, but then must have thought better of it, and shut it again.
She stepped to the door, placing her hand on the knob. She looked down at her feet, obviously reluctant for him to go. "I'll see you around sometime?" he asked, this time being the one to act cheerful.
Op'Helia gave him a winning smile. "Of course." As he turned to leave through the opened door, Op'Helia asked, "Can I at least get a kiss goodbye?"
Tom blinked. A kiss? Under normal circumstances it would have been fine, but in the current situation . . . could they stop at one kiss, knowing the pleasure of doing so much more? He moved toward her, keeping the door ajar. They musn't give in . . .
The kiss started out innocent enough. It was just a simple movement of lips against each other, but passion caught up with them. He touched her face with his hands, reveling in the familiar softness of her hair. He kissed her again, each one longer and more passionate than the one before. He heard the door click as he shut it with the back of his foot. Before he knew it, he had Op'Helia pinned against the door.
"We shouldn't do this . . ." he said weakly, he breath ragged. "I should go . . ."
"Nobody knows you're here. No one has to know . . ." Her breathing was laborous, as though she were trying to calm down. "It's been so long . . . I've missed you . . . I need you . . ."
He kissed her again, hard. She was right, it had been long, but if they were caught . . .
It was the trail of kisses she left down his neck that finally conviced him, that broke his resolve. The Devil to being caught, he thought savagely. He lifted her up and carried her to the bedroom. He wanted to spend the night with the woman he loved.
They were able to catch the last transport ship leaving for Alpha Prime. Teraisas informed him that Lin'air and Kathryn would be waiting for them at the docking station. Tom cursed inwardly. He forgot about Lin'air. No doubt the witch would make his stay at the Array an uncomfortable one.
He looked out the window, saw all the familiar stars. He had once piloted through those stars; he had been the best pilot than anyone in the Delta Quadrant had ever known. Those had been the days, when he, Harry and others would play Zedjech all day long. Tom sighed. He missed those days, but as he turned away from the window, he decided that he'd best not reminisce on times that weren't possible anymore. It was dangerous.
He felt underneath him a dull thud and then a tremor as the ship docked into place. He picked up his duffel bag and made his way in a crowd of people to the doors. As he stepped through the threshold, he was caught by surprise. The blue-haired Lin'air was standing against an opposite wall, her arms clasped behind her back as she scanned the crowds for him. Tom was surprised she wasn't wearing some elaborate dress or outfit as so many of her people do. She was alone. Tom had been expecting her to bring security guards with her, not so much to keep him in line, but for her to be safe. And yet she stood there, alone, unaccompanied and nonchalant, studying the crowds for Tom and Teraisas. He made his way over to her, and she caught sight of him. "Mr. Paris," she stated curtly, though not harshly. "Welcome home. Kathryn was unable to accompany me; she had affairs to attend to. Follow me." She turned on the heel of her foot and stepped briskly and easily into the crowd. Tom paused for a moment, a tad bewildered. She had been formal, but not rude. He had been expecting blandishments and sarcasm. And yet there had been none.
As he followed her through the crowd, he had an inkling that she was up to something.
The docking station Naria that hovered in orbit of Alpha Prime was full of aliens and cargo ships. The corridors were full of aliens of every sort, some humanoid; others not even close to humanoid. As Tom elbowed his way through the crowd, he caught a glimpse of a holoemitter giving the daily newscast of the festival. He heard the alien mention the feast at the Ivory Tower, and caught a word or two about the Prime Admiral. But he was positive that the newcaster mentioned something about Op'Helia; he wished he could have heard, but the crowds drowned out the message.
So, Tom, how do you like it in Andronmeda?
He looked at Lin'air, who had her back to him as she walked through the crowds. He caught up to her, but didn't say anything at first. He didn't want to give her the pleasure of knowing he hated it, but he didn't want to say that he liked it either.
"It's fine," he answered curtly.
Harry and B'Ellana are eager to see you. You should see them first before Op'Helia. She is away on official business of mine, but she will be returning shortly.
Tom nodded absently. They turned a corner and found themselves in a deserted corridor. He followed her through a pair of doubled doors and into a transporter room that he instantly recognized as her own. He knew that only certain members of the government were allowed access to this room, much less to use it. Stepping up to the elevated dais, Lin'air nodded once to the officer manned at the console, and Tom dematerialized in a glitter of blue light.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Oh dear . . . she was terribly late----- again. She knew the Prime Admiral would be particularly wroth this time since it was the third time this week. Op'Helia pulled up the hems of her dress so she could run. She cursed this ceremonial dress that she had to wear to the Continuum, but rules were rules, and she had little say in those matters. She fixed her hair as she approached the huge doubled doors, Tuvok opening it for her from the outside and commenting sternly, "You are late."
She managed him a weak smile as she crossed the threshold and entered the huge Main Conference room, Kathryn seated upon the dais with Chakotay standing to her right and Admiral Chester flanked on her left. Lin'air was standing at the base, watching Tom, who was standing at the base of the dais as well, with Harry and B'Ellana behind him. The Prime Admiral was explaining the restrictions to him, she knew. She had been told, very curtly, that during Tom's stay of the Festival week that any interaction between the two of them must be monitored by Tuvok or Teraisas. She fixed her hair for the last time and straightened her dress, and walked over to the dais.
Kathryn was immediately aware of her presence by the steady clicking of her shoes against the smooth, polished floor. She face crested into a frown and said sternly, "You're late again, Op'Helia." Careful not to look at Tom, though she knew he was staring at her, she curtsied elegantly in front of the platform and smiled her apologies.
Kathryn sighed and gave a look to Lin'air. Lin'air arched an eyebrow and the side of her mouth curved a bit. Op'Helia thought this was odd. As she looked up at her Caretaker, she knew immediately that Lin'air had something planned for her. She swallowed hard and managed a nod to the blue haired woman. Lin'air was an expert at hiding her thoughts and feelings; Op'Helia couldn't read her mind the way she could Kathryn's and Tom's and every other human. Op'Helia hoped that her Caretaker wouldn't send her away while Tom was here. That would be cruel.
As she stood up the Prime Admiral returned her attention to Tom. "You understand these restrictions, Mr. Paris?"
Tom grimaced. Op'Helia knew that Tom was thinking the same thing she had when she was informed of the restrictions. They seemed a bit excessive, but Op'Helia knew that according to Caretakian law, Tom was considered a criminal, and the Prime Admiral thought she was doing her duty as a Prime, no matter how much she liked Tom. He nodded silently, but without conviction, and the Prime Admiral turned to her associates and they all gave a curt nod. They then turned to Caretaker Lin'air to have her nod of approval, but to Op'Helia and everyone's great surprise, Lin'air grinned smugly. She almost looked like a child who had a nasty secret she wouldn't divulge and Op'Helia perked an eyebrow. She looked over to the Admirals, and they were staring at her as though they were in the middle of a conversation. She looked back at Lin'air, who was nodding her head.
"But Lin'air," Kathryn began, "are you sure? I mean . . ."
She stopped, and then placed her hand under her chin. Op'Helia looked at Tom, who was looking at her. He gave her a look as though he was asking, what's going on? Op'helia shrugged at him.
"Ahhhh . . ." Kathryn said, leaning into the back of her chair. "I understand. But then they would have the entire fault. Don't you think---" She cut off again and then stared at Lin'air, the other Admirals following her gaze. Op'Helia looked at Lin'air as well. Her face still held the cool, smug look that irritated her so often. She looked back at Kathryn as she spoke, "I understand Lin'air. Clever, very clever."
Op'helia sighed.
* * * * * * * * * * *
It was a beautiful day outside. As Op'Helia walked with Tom through the park, she couldn't help but notice. The sky was a bright blue hue, and whenever she tried to look at it, she couldn't. It was noontide and everything was casted with the sun's yellow glow. They had their arms linked together, and they were walking in silence. They had talked about various things, mostly about Eric, and Tuvok and Teraisas were discreet enough to follow at a comfortable distance so as not to here their conversation.
"Tom," Op'helia said gingerly, "There's something important I need you to answer for me."
He immediately became cautious. "Okay."
"Tell me honestly, since I can read your mind anyway," she turned and faced him, taking him by both arms, "Do you regret being with me?"
Tom stared at her for a moment, and then he smiled. "No," he said, "I regret not being with you. When I'm millions of light-years away from you, I feel like I'm going crazy."
Op'Helia giggled. "Really?" she said wryly. "But you know what they're saying about us as the courts, right?"
Tom rolled his eyes and let out a sigh. "They don't understand anything. Ignore them. They think they know what's going on, but they don't."
"They're calling me a slut, Tom. Do you have any idea how much that hurts?"
Tom grimaced. "Yeah," he said softly, "I do. If there's anyone who's been hurt, it's me. I was a prisoner, remember?"
"Yeah . . . I'm sorry."
"Me too."
She rested her head against his shoulder as they walked. It was nice to be alone with him again, she realized, without the secrecy of brief interludes. But as she cast a glance over her shoulder at the pair of soldiers following them, a part of her also missed the danger of being caught. Op'Helia looked up at Tom. That's all over now, she thought. They had been caught, and now this was their destiny. She settled back into his arm.
It seemed that their meeting was all too brief when Tuvok broke the silence, telling Tom that he had to return to the Council. They had in fact been walking for hours, but Op'Helia still held on to Tom reluctantly. They stopped on the brown trodden path next to a clump of trees with flowering bushes. He looked down at her, and Op'Helia felt a pang in her heart. He looked so melancholy, so beaten, as though his pride had been stripped from him . . . and it had. For the both of them.
"See you at the Festival?" she asked, trying to sound cheery.
Tom huffed. "Hopefully."
She let out a slight laugh, and then reached up and kissed him gently on the cheek. She whispered in his ear, "I love you, Tom Paris," and then she slid past him, not needing to see his face because she already was aware of the emotions swirling within him. She had barely moved a foot away from him when she felt his hand clasp her arm. He gathered her in his arms so very gently and firmly, and casting Tuvok and Teraisas a defiant look, he kissed her, hard. It was familiar, and it was nice. It scarcely seemed to last a second when he pulled away, kissing her hand. He stepped backwards, a forlorn look on his face, and then turned and walked away.
As she watched him go, she let out a breath that she hadn't been aware she was holding. The familiar want coursed through her . . . and she stood there, touching her lips as though she could savor his own. Life isn't fair, she thought suddenly. It just isn't fair.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Tom Paris's day past excruciatingly slow. His stroll with Op'Helia hadn't seem to last long enough, and as he thought more about it, he didn't think it ever would. The idea that they could only spend a certain amount of time with each other, not as much as they liked, certainly put a damper on things. He wasn't about to get picky, though. He knew how to take advantage of oppurtunities, and he wasn't about to give up his walks with Op'Helia out of protest to Lin'air. He wasn't that stupid.
It was night now, and the two moons, one white, the other yellow, hung over the horizon like two huge wraiths. He opened the door gingerly, not wanting it to creak at the hinges and alert any passerbys. He slid through the crack and shut the door with a click.
Op'Helia's room was almost exactly as he remembered it, save one minor change---- the cradle in the corner of room. It blended so perfectly into the backdrop that Tom had to look for it. He crossed the room silently and then peeked over the side. The tiny baby lay swathed in soft blankets, his little hands covered with minuture-like mittens and his face pinched in sleep. Tom looked about him again. He wasn't supposed to be in here, he knew, unsupervised, and if he were caught, it would look particularly bad for him. But the lure of seeing and holding his son without soldiers standing at the doorway was over powering. This was his son, and he wanted some moments, even brief ones, to spend between the two of them.
He picked him up, careful to hold his head and not disturb his sleep, and walked over to a puffy white chair nearby. He sat it a carefully, Eric in his arms. He was so perfect, Tom couldn't help smiling. Soft white fuzz adorned the crown of Eric's head, and Tom knew that was going to be blond, like his parents and most of his ancestors. Was it just him, or did he already see a reflection of himself in his baby's features?
Click.
Tom froze. The door had opened and a swish of fabric entered the room. Conscious not to wake his son, he stood up, ready to explain himself. Surely he or she would understand with the baby in his arms that he only wanted to see his son, and Op'Helia hadn't been in the room at the time . . .
"Tom?" a familiar voice called. He looked over and smiled a bit sheepishly.
"Just wanted to spend some quality time with our son."
Op'Helia let out a laugh at that. She strode over to the pair and lifted Eric from his father's arms. "He's beautiful, isn't he?"
"'Course. He's got you for a mother." Tom smiled and kissed her on the cheek. She carried Eric over to the cradle and set him in it. Fixing the blankets around him, she asked, "Did you only come to see your son, or were you hoping to 'accidentally' run into me?"
Tom walked up behind her. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't." Op'Helia straightened, and then turned to face him. She leaned an elbow on the side of the cradle. "Really?"
He nodded. "I guess if we 'accidentally' run into each other unsupervised, it isn't our fault, is it?"
Op'Helia laughed. "Now that's rationalization if I ever heard it. Do you really think Lin'air or Kathryn would buy that?"
It was Tom's turn to laugh. "No . . . I guess not." They stood in silence for a moment, not wanting the euphoria to wear away. But the outcome was inevitable. "I should go," Tom said reluctantly, and Op'Helia agreed, though with regret. "I'll show you to the door," she said politely, and brushed past him, her shoulder grazing his side. Though the action was simple, Op'Helia had the grace to blush. She knew perfectly well the sort of tension in the air, and if they weren't careful, the current situation could take a drastic and erotic turn.
The main living room was large, and the pair passed an antechamber where Op'Helia's bed was. When Tom glanced at it, familiar memories came flooding back. The night they first made love, in her bed; the sweet words, the overpowering feeling of pleasure and ecstasy; the way her hair felt inbetween his fingers and the smell of her perfume encompassing them both; Tom swallowed hard and glanced at Op'Helia, who was staring at the bed also. She looked up and smiled weakly. She opened her mouth the say something, but then must have thought better of it, and shut it again.
She stepped to the door, placing her hand on the knob. She looked down at her feet, obviously reluctant for him to go. "I'll see you around sometime?" he asked, this time being the one to act cheerful.
Op'Helia gave him a winning smile. "Of course." As he turned to leave through the opened door, Op'Helia asked, "Can I at least get a kiss goodbye?"
Tom blinked. A kiss? Under normal circumstances it would have been fine, but in the current situation . . . could they stop at one kiss, knowing the pleasure of doing so much more? He moved toward her, keeping the door ajar. They musn't give in . . .
The kiss started out innocent enough. It was just a simple movement of lips against each other, but passion caught up with them. He touched her face with his hands, reveling in the familiar softness of her hair. He kissed her again, each one longer and more passionate than the one before. He heard the door click as he shut it with the back of his foot. Before he knew it, he had Op'Helia pinned against the door.
"We shouldn't do this . . ." he said weakly, he breath ragged. "I should go . . ."
"Nobody knows you're here. No one has to know . . ." Her breathing was laborous, as though she were trying to calm down. "It's been so long . . . I've missed you . . . I need you . . ."
He kissed her again, hard. She was right, it had been long, but if they were caught . . .
It was the trail of kisses she left down his neck that finally conviced him, that broke his resolve. The Devil to being caught, he thought savagely. He lifted her up and carried her to the bedroom. He wanted to spend the night with the woman he loved.