AN: I have been so thrilled with the responses to Harry Kim that I wanted to take a moment to beg you to write stories about him. He is truly an unsung hero, as well as a complete doll—Harry has the unenviable position of always being the straight man. He deserves to be the hero. He's a hero in this story. Wee-me, he might well be the hero in this story—I haven't written that far ;). Hugs to you all for your… um… patience ::grins:: and unbridled enthusiasm. You keep me going during a very difficult time. Thank you. Onward!
PS: picasaweb dot google dot com bkslsh Llewfox bkslsh JustTheBoysPlease bkslsh photo#5029361068386363298 for those of you who asked what i thought this mirror!Tuvok might look like. I am open to suggestions!
He was no longer cold. Why he noticed this first, he was not certain. But it was more than just the absence of physical cold, or the presence of heat. Within the meld, of course, physical sensations were only the embodiment of the psychological state of the individual. But this was different—unlike anything he had ever felt before. He turned to his companion. "I cannot qualify this sensation."
She smiled, and the feeling of warmth within his boundaries of self intensified. Her hand stroked across his short-cropped hair and down the back of his neck, lighting neural centers that reminded him, alarmingly, of the out-of-control sensation that accompanied pon farr. But it was not that. Gentle and deep, it did not rage in a conflagration that tore down his mental barriers. This heat co-existed within him, peacefully. He smiled back, and was not threatened by it. She took his face in her hands. "You do love me."
"That was never in question." He quirked an eyebrow at her. "You simply had different expectations."
"I had a right to. You are the same man, after all." She was not being completely serious, and he caught the sparkle in her eye.
"We love the same woman," he allowed. For a long moment, they existed together, twined in luxurious abandon. He knew her, and she him, the way that husbands knew wives, and lovers knew each others minds and hearts. It would be their only moment. All too soon, it was gone. "You will be well," Tuvok whispered reluctantly. Kathryn nodded slowly. It was time.
He broke the meld and blinked into the eyes of the anxious doctor. "Is she alright?"
Tuvok acknowledged him with narrowed eyes, even in the dim light. "She will live."
In answer, Kathryn gave a weak groan beside him. "Status."
Lieutenant Stadi kneeled next to them as the doctor waved a tricorder over both Tuvok and Kathryn. "We're still on the bridge. I don't know about the pulse emitter, but if Torres betrayed you, we can be pretty certain it's been disabled."
"What about our other people in Engineering?" Her voice was gaining strength. The doctor injected her with something, and she managed to sit up with Tuvok's help. He could feel her ribs jutting from under her thin coveralls, and she was painfully light, but she was alive. The doctor and Stadi glanced at each other, and then at Kathryn.
"Unknown. But we are still in proximity of the rift. The engines are offline. We don't know why." the doctor finally answered, clearly unhappy with half an answer. She nodded tersely.
All business, she moved weakly upward. "Help me up. Get Tuvok back to the shuttle. If there is any chance of getting my husband back, we need him. And I am not ready to call it a day just yet." Stadi smiled, relieved, and saluted her, and then turned expectantly to Tuvok. He frowned.
"You may yet require my services, Kathryn." The truth was that he did not want to go without seeing this through. He did not want to go without knowing if she succeeded. And as soon as she looked up at him, she felt it, too. But he helped her to stand, because she was always his captain, regardless of universe.
She took his hand and led them to a semi-private corner, and when she spoke, it was for him alone. "I live for two things: to see my husband again, and to hold this ship under the command of its faithful officers." She grasped his neck with small, powerful hands. "But remember, it was for you, Tuvok from another place, that I chose to turn away from death. Always remember that." He was caught up in her eyes, steady and compelling, and the warmth that had bloomed between them within the meld flickered into reality again. Physical distance seemed such an inconsequential detail that it didn't really register that she was kissing him until he kissed her back.
His first instinct was to pull away. In a universe of highly diverse species, Vulcans were among the most private, and Stadi was Betazoid, if not standing five feet away. But his second instinct almost immediately subsumed his first, and he was lost in the reality of what had been a not-quite-forgotten dream. Her mind washed into his, and he sensed no confusion as to his identity. She was not pretending that he was her lost husband—the sensations of newness pervaded them both as she explored him gently, briefly… longingly. With startling clarity, as he tugged tenderly on her lower lip with his teeth, he thought, I want this.
Kathryn parted from him regretfully, and studied him thoughtfully. "Then go and see if she will have you, while you are both alive and able." She kissed his cheek one last time, and he felt her small hand press against his breast. "One. Shuttle," she whispered, and stepped out of his arms. He glanced down to see that she had pressed another commbadge to his uniform. Just like his Kathryn not to say goodbye. His last image of her was of calm strength, with an impish smile playing about her lips. He returned it with wry acknowledgement, and kept his regret private. That, she did not need to see.
"Why in all seven Hells are we still here, B'Elanna?" Captain Seska had not stopped pacing since she had first given the command to leave the rift, and had been told that the engines were offline. All of them. Lieutenant Torres voice came through the comm system with a surly edge.
"Captain, it's something to do with the integrity of the subspace layers in this damn area of space. The swiss-cheese subspace field opened itself right inside the warp core—if we move, there's a probability we'll have a breach."
The captain snarled, her brow ridges flushed with ire. "How probable?"
"Vorik calculated it at eighty-seven point six percent. We're working on a way to isolate the subspace field, but this is something entirely new. Right now we have to remain perfectly still." Torres sounded like she would rather challenge the subspace breach to hand-to-hand combat. Seska resumed pacing. Chakotay raised a calm eye to her.
"If you had Carey on it, he might be able to help."
"Carey's a traitor." She hardly even paused to consider the man sitting in the commander's chair, whom she had once loved.
"Carey's a Starfleet officer. You're the traitor, Seska." But it was an old argument, and he said it without conviction. She scowled at him. She knew, intellectually, that her injustice against Carey had been the motivation for the attempted mutiny. But it was finished, as far as she was concerned, as soon as she could put this patch of space behind them.
"Chak, you really need to get the hell off my bridge." Chakotay glanced around him, at Harry Kim at Ops who looked blankly back, determined not to take sides in a war he had lost when Janeway had lost control of the ship at Sikaris. At the console where Tuvok normally stood, now taken by Ayala, he knew he would get no support. Had Stadi been there, she would have bolstered him. But she wasn't. Where the hell was she, anyway? As he turned to go, Seska stepped in front of him. "Oh, and by the way?" She held out her hand, and for a moment, a soft sadness flickered in the depth of her eyes. "I don't speak Navajo. But my computer does." She tapped his commbadge. "Brig." Chakotay looked desperately at Harry, but he realized he had been wrong about the blankness in the young lieutenant's eyes. What he saw there when Harry beamed him directly off the bridge was nothing but cold, searing hate.
Five seconds later, he let out a breath, counting himself lucky that he had materialized within four walls, and not into the vacuum of space. But then, within a second's adjustment, he realized that he wasn't in the brig at all, but on a shuttle. And the prickles on the back of his neck alerted him that he wasn't alone.
"Commander. You are the last person I had wished to see."
Chakotay's blood froze like ice.