11.

Two travel cases and an empty kitbag stood in the middle of the floor, and Scotty lay on his bunk looking at them. He supposed he really ought to make a start on packing his personal belongings into them, after all the Churchill would be at Starbase Five in 24 hours, but somehow he just couldn't be bothered.

It didn't help that he didn't know where he would go or what he would do next. Chandra had ordered him to take a month's sick leave, so Scotty would be heading back to Aberdeen for a few weeks. His mother had been frantic when he'd spoken to her on the subspace link, so he needed to go home if only to reassure her that he really was still in one piece. Besides, he could use the home cooking. And a hug.

But after that? The Churchill needed major repairs, if not a complete refit, and would be out of commission for months. Heather hadn't decided yet which ship she was going to apply for, so he couldn't begin to make enquiries about engineering vacancies. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to serve on another ship, or whether he'd have the nerve to step into an engine room ever again.

The cases were still there, silently mocking his indolence, and he swung his legs off the bunk and moved to sit at the desk. He could sort through his data tapes, that would be a start. Some of them were Starfleet property, some were personal stuff, some were academic papers he was working on and some… weren't even labeled.

Scotty cursed. He was meticulous about his tapes being content-stamped, so finding one that wasn't was a nuisance as well as annoying. With a sigh, he slotted the offending tape into the computer and hit the switch to play it. For a moment he wasn't sure what he was looking at, and then realization hit him: this wasn't his tape. It was the joke Tourist Information Swedish vid that Svenson had given to Stevens, back before…

His gasp turned into a sob, and he tried to swallow it down, groping for an 'off' switch he suddenly couldn't see because his vision was blurred with tears. As the vid played on, unheeded, all the emotions Scotty thought had been buried for good rose up together and engulfed him.

Scotty had been surprised to learn that Commodore Vlasyuk had traveled to Starbase Five to personally look over the Churchill. He was nothing short of astonished when the Commodore's ADC contacted him shortly after they'd docked, and told him to report to Vlasyuk's office at 17:00 hours.

Now, scrubbed, combed and polished, he stood at attention in front of the man they called 'the Russian Bear'. Scotty could understand why. Vlasyuk's build and bristling grey beard would have made him intimidating even without the gold bars on his sleeves. As he stood there wondering what he'd screwed up and how badly, Scotty could only hope that the end would be quick.

He nearly fell over when Vlasyuk smiled, gestured at a chair, and said "Sit down, Ensign, and relax please. You're not in any trouble." He paused for a moment, then added, "None that I know about anyway."

"Uh…. Thank you, sir."

As Scotty cautiously lowered himself onto the chair opposite Vlasyuk, the Commodore leaned forward a little, resting his hands on the desk in front of him. "Scott, you're here because of Commander Marsh."

"Aye, sir, I know that. He saved my life. He saved all of us."

Vlasyuk nodded. "Yes, he did. But that's not what I meant." He thumbed a switch, and the triscreen on his desk lit up with diagrams and equations. "Recognize anything?"

Scotty leaned in a little, checked what he was seeing. "Yes, sir! These are the recommendations I made to Commander Marsh for improvements to the magnatomic capacitors." He gave a small shrug. "He didn't like them."

"Oh, he liked them, Scott," said Vlasyuk, with what might have been a chuckle, "He just didn't understand them. Not enough to approve them without a second opinion anyway." He flicked a switch and the screen changed. "Same thing with your suggestions for improving the transporter's phase discriminator; and increasing the cross-connecting compatibility between the impulse and warp controls." He switched the screen off. "I was at the Academy with Jeff Marsh. So I know he wasn't easily impressed. But you…" He pointed a finger, "You impressed him, Ensign. Impressed me too, with these ideas." Picking up the padd from his desk, he glanced at it and went on: "You've not put in your transfer request yet I see. You know the Churchill will be out of commission for some time?"

"Yes, sir. I just…" Scotty took a deep breath. He'd not admitted this to anyone but himself till now. Not even Heather. "I'm not sure I can…"

He had to stop and collect himself, but the Commodore seemed to understand what he was trying to say anyway. Scotty could read sympathy and understanding in the man's face as he said, "You will, Scott. You're an engineer. Some people train to be, some just are. You're the latter. So you'll be wanting to get back into an engine room before your sick leave's through, if I'm any judge. But if you want more time – and if you're interested - I can offer you an alternative to getting straight back on a starship."

"Sir?"

"The SCE is always looking for good engineers. We have an R&D facility on Space Station K2, out near the Deneva system – ideal place for you to test out some of these theories and recommendations of yours, if you'd like to transfer on a two-year secondment.

"There is one proviso, Scott: I want you to find a way to prevent a dilithium rupture destroying an engine room. I don't want this happening to another starship, another crew, another friend. If you take the posting, you'll have the opportunity to work on a number of projects, and you'll be encouraged to come up with more ideas of your own – but I'd like you to make dilithium containment your main priority." He sat back. "I know your shuttle leaves for Earth at oh-seven-hundred tomorrow; I don't expect a decision before you go. I'll be back at Starfleet Command Headquarters in a week's time. I hope you'll have an answer for me by then?"

Scotty nodded, though he already knew what his response was going to be.

He just needed to somehow find the strength to tell Heather.

She was waiting for him in his quarters, just as she'd promised, and when he walked in she stood up to give him a hug, then stepped back and looked him up and down. "You got out of there in one piece then?"

He managed a smile. "Aye, everything's intact. Career included." He caught her hand for a moment and ran his thumb over the links of the bracelet on her wrist, then walked past her and pulled the hip-flask from his kitbag, which was all packed and ready to go first thing in the morning. He really, really needed a drink. "Want one?"

She shook her head and went to sit on the bed. "You know I don't really like it."

He poured a measure into the flask's beaker, drank it in one shot, poured another and put the beaker on the bedside table as he sat down next to Heather. She didn't push him or prompt him, and he was grateful for that. In his head, he'd been through a dozen different ways to tell her what he was going to do, but he knew there was no gentle way of saying it. He couldn't look at her, but listened to her breathing for a moment more before he spoke. "The Commodore offered me a secondment to the SCE. For a couple of years. On Space Station K2."

The breathing stopped for a moment, then resumed with a soft "Oh." He heard her take a deeper breath. "You're going to take the post. Aren't you?"

He nodded, his gaze on the floor by his feet. "Aye."

He felt her hand touch his arm. "I'm so glad... It sounds like something... you'll truly enjoy..."

He could hear her voice shake and turned to look at her. She didn't look glad, she was pushing a hand across her eyes in a vain attempt to brush the tears away before he saw them. "Heather..."

"No, it's okay." Her fingers slid down his arm and she grasped his hand, holding it tight as her words came out in a rush. "I... decided to apply for a place on the Science Outpost team for Delta-Gamma Five. Commander Wu says she'll back me so... there's a good chance..." She rubbed her eyes again with her free hand and he could see that the smile she gave him was as forced as the one he was counterfeiting for her.

Not trusting himself to speak, Scotty drew her into his arms and rested his cheek on the top of her head as he held her, breathing in her scent, savoring her warmth and the pressure of her arms around his waist.

"So you see, we'll both be doing something we love," she whispered, her voice so low he could barely hear the words, "That's wonderful. Isn't it?"

Scotty did not speak. He felt overwhelmed with everything that had just passed between them. He didn't care to hear anymore, nor question his own feelings towards this woman he knew now that he loved and yet had to leave. There were no words, he realized. Nothing he could say would be good enough for what he felt at that moment. He only wanted to feel her hands touch him one more time, taste her, take her away to that pleasure they had visited so many times before.

He tilted her chin up and when his lips touched hers, she pressed herself against him, molding herself against his body. They fell back against the bed, bodies clasped tightly as their lips and tongues seemed to search the inner depths of each other. Their hands roved over clothes and skin, tugging and caressing until nothing was left between them.

They clung together on the bed as if neither of them could possibly bear to let the other go.

Scotty's hands gently kneaded the fullness of Heather's breasts, his mouth rained kisses over her face and throat, his tongue tasting the sweetness of her skin.

Her fingers roamed over his body freely as if she were memorizing every line of flesh and bone. She kissed the soreness from his shoulder. And then she kissed his mouth, a hot, open-mouthed ravenous kiss. It took him beyond the boundaries of rational feeling-or thinking and a volcanic storm began to rage inside them both, so hot it scorched him to the bone.

Scotty lifted Heather's thigh over his hip and pushed himself into her. He gripped her bottom and held her to him, thrusting upward as he did. She shuddered and held on, meeting his lips with hers again and again.

The storm raged on.

Not just hers, or his, but theirs. A storm stronger than either of them could control. Strong enough to knock them into senseless, unrelenting need. Until it rose in a scalding wave and shattered them. Destroying them, intertwining them and then completing them.

When the storm died, they found themselves breathless, limbs tangled and exhausted.

Passion and desire had faded, leaving behind two emotionaly raw, naked people.

Heather smiled at him. Scotty searched her eyes, fathomless and blue. He kissed her and still, there was no need for words. Not with Heather.

She was sleeping when he left. He wanted to remember her that way, peaceful and pretty, smiling in her sleep; in any case, he wasn't sure he would actually be able to say 'goodbye' if he woke her.

Hoisting his kitbag onto his shoulder, Scotty stood for a moment to listen to her breathe. Then he turned and walked away.

THE END