A/N: This chapter takes place just after the events in "Exigency". You might find it worth a quick read through before diving back into Selas' world. Also, this chapter briefly skirts the M rating—just in case you wanted to know.
It Was The Best of Times, It Was The Worst of Times
150 Greenleaf Street, San Francisco, 2289.356, 1921 hours. An eerie silence descended upon the office at the termination of the call. They were both still processing the news when suddenly Rebecca turned to him and buried her head in his shoulder as she heaved great gasping sobs. Selas stroked her hair as he quietly seethed with rage and grief. Their parents, Selek, and Uncle Jim had survived. Uncle Pavel had not.
"He's," she hiccupped, "Gone."
"Yes." His voice sounded distant even to his own ears and his reply set off a fresh round of wailing in Rebecca. He held her closer still; her grief was unlike any he had witnessed before and pierced straight through his heart.
They consoled each other for some time until all emotion had been spent and they trudged upstairs and collapsed in exhaustion in their respective beds.
150 Greenleaf Street, San Francisco, 2289.357, 0350 hours. The knock at the door was feather—light yet he heard it regardless. Tentatively Rebecca stuck her head into the room. "Selas?"
"I am awake." He had woken from his fitful slumber 28.4 minutes ago and doubted he would find sleep again for the rest of the morning.
She quickly padded across the floor in bare feet and he pulled back the blankets to welcome her into his bed. They lay facing one another on the narrow twin mattress for a full minute in silence.
"I haven't been able to stop thinking about him," she finally said. "I don't think I have any tears left."
He nodded. "I have been thinking about Uncle Pavel all night as well."
She curled up beside him. "Remember those puzzle books he used to make for us? For our birthdays?"
"I do. I still possess all of my copies."
"Me too. And the answer to every riddle was always 'Russia'." She drew in a deep shuddering breath and Selas reached out to cup her cheek where he brushed away one salty drop. "Guess I lied about the tears." Rebecca idly began stroking his hand.
He began thinking about Uncle Pavel and the Enterprise, about how he had been fortunate enough to be raised among such an exceptional crew on such a remarkable ship, and how his cousin Max was deprived of all of that now because his father was dead. Morbid thoughts such as these continued to swirl in his head unspoken until he was startled by Rebecca as she placed the tenderest of kisses upon his cheek; in that moment Selas realized he too had been crying.
She continued peppering his face with soft kisses and gently nudged him onto his back. Selas wrapped his arms around her as she lay atop him, making her twitch as his fingers ran lightly up her side. Something a little further south on his person began twitching also.
"Rebecca…"
"I want to," she interjected. "I want to with you. Here. Now." Cool fingers reached up under his shirt and spread across his taut stomach. "I want to feel alive." Rebecca kissed him again, hot, wet, and hard on the mouth, and all other thoughts fled.
His passion re-awakened Selas rolled her onto her back. Yanking his shirt over his head he felt his skin pucker as Rebecca placed both hands flat on his chest; and when she lightly raked her nails across his torso he shuddered. Selas dove in greedily seeking her mouth, impressing her of his need with his tongue.
One trembling hand tentatively slid down between their commingled legs where nothing but flimsy sleepwear stood between them and full achievement.
0411 hours. Both collapsed onto their backs, naked sweaty limbs akimbo, panting for breath. It had been a dizzying, terrifying, and fascinating experience all at once. At one point he was concerned he had injured her until she swiftly and very vocally informed him she was far from hurt. Indeed her mewling cries were sounds heretofore unknown to him and ones Selas found himself dreaming of hearing again.
"That was…" The seconds ticked by yet his brain could not come up with a word that would adequately convey the sensations he was feeling.
Having recovered some of her breath Rebecca let out a tittering little giggle. "Yeah. That was." Beneath the sheets he felt her casting about before grasping his hand tightly in hers. An explosion of excited confusion and love coursed through their touch, a perfect complement to his own unexpressed sentiment.
He turned on his side toward her wishing he could see her for himself. She relinquished her grip and slipped an arm under the pillow to face him better. "Are you certain you are well?"
Selas heard the smile in her voice. "I don't think I've ever been better." Rebecca moved to pull the covers up more and he hastened to complete the task for her so that she was not chilled. "Was it…I mean, did you find it ok?"
She had misgivings? "Rebecca, that was the most incredible experience of my life. Do not doubt that for a moment." He drew her close and she wiggled herself around to fit into the crook of his body. "Vaksurik," Selas murmured. He pulled the matted hair back from the side of her neck and pressed a light kiss there. "Maut vaksurik…*"
While still exploring this newfound facet of their relationship the following morning their parents sent them word that Selek had passed away in his sleep.
150 Greenleaf Street, San Francisco, 2289.358, 1418 hours. It had been a most unusual weekend. They were each of them stunned by the double loss and continued to shun all other company, seeking solace only in each other.
They had not been intimate since receiving the missive that Selek was dead.
That afternoon Rebecca declared that she would bake, an activity Selas recognized as being borne out of grief. It was also why they were living in such a spotless abode; Selas' own need for activity had only been satisfied by scrubbing every surface in his parent's house until his hands were raw. As he sat in the living room lost in his own thoughts the air around him began to fill with the heavenly scent of sugar and apples. Given the prolonged sound of chopping he suspected she was making enough food to feed an army.
Rebecca was still working away when the front door chimed 81.8 minutes later. Each of them stilled, like animals frozen following a shotgun blast, uncertain as to how to proceed. Neither of them wanted to answer the summons but whoever their visitor was he or she did not want to be ignored; and so it was with great surprise and a measure of relief that Selas came face-to-face with his Uncle.
"Afternoon, Selas," Uncle Christopher declared as he pulled him down into a hug. "How are you holdin' up?"
"I am surviving," he answered truthfully.
"I know the feeling." He wheeled himself into the house and Selas closed the door. "Pavel Chekov was a great man and a damn fine navigator. He'll be missed." He paused in the middle of the floor and inhaled deeply. "Something sure smells good in here."
"Another pie'll be out in a minute, Uncle Chris."
"Becca? I didn't know you were here." She didn't reply and her silence spoke volumes. "Actually I'm glad you're both here. We need to talk." Uncle Christopher maneuvered his chair up to the kitchen table and paused briefly before continuing. "I have a feeling you can answer my questions."
Again neither one responded and Selas could sense the tension mounting in the room. Rebecca placed a mug of something—green tea, given the aroma—on the table between them and Uncle Christopher dragged it close before taking a sip.
"Now that we have Jim's testimony, in addition to other findings, things are moving quickly at HQ." He paused but again neither of them supplied him with any information. "I'm assuming by your silence that you know more than you're letting on," he added. "What we're trying to do is take out Section 31 once and for all." Rebecca gasped. "And while Jim and the others have supplied us with a great deal of information…
"You require Jeffrey Pullman's testimony in order to finish them off," Selas concluded.
Uncle Christopher set his mug down. "Yes," he replied, "We need Jeff. He has more inside information than you realize…than maybe even he realizes."
As she pulled a fresh pie out of the oven Selas felt Rebecca's eyes boring into the back of his head; yet this was still not an inducement to make Jeffrey's current whereabouts known. "You claim to be in our parent's confidence," he said, "And yet wherein Section 31 is concerned one thing has been made very clear to us, and that is that no one is above suspicion; not even you, Uncle Christopher."
His Uncle and his girlfriend ceased moving, his accusation hanging in the air like a dark cloud. Selas did not intend to sound so malicious nor did he truly believe his Uncle was involved in Section 31 yet maintaining Jeffrey's safety was his chief concern.
"I don't think I've ever been prouder of you two." Now this statement was truly shocking and Selas' mouth fell open of it's own accord; behind him an empty tin pie plate clattered to the floor. "You're right; Section 31's influences run deep and we don't know for sure who we can trust. For all I know they could've recruited either of you but my gut tells me that's not the case…right?"
The pair of them remained mute but this time out of shock. "Now they've already made one attempt on Jeff's life and I'll be damned if I give them another shot—but I also won't give them another chance to slither away and try and pull a stunt like this a couple years down the line." He calmly raised the mug of tea to his lips and took a sip. "If you have a safe means of getting in touch with him then let him know what's going on and that we need his help in a big way. The rest I'll leave up to him."
Uncle Christopher set his mug down with a decided thunk and maneuvered his chair away from the table. "Thanks for the tea. Wish I could stay for some pie but I've got to get going."
Neither he nor Rebecca were in any condition to move, stunned as they were by the conversation that had just transpired, and it was not until their Uncle very nearly reached the door that Rebecca went after him. "Here." Selas heard her open a drawer and scramble for an item before rushing toward their Uncle. "Take this."
"I couldn't eat a whole pie by myself…" he protested.
"Something tells me you won't have to," she slyly hinted before walking him out.
Jeffrey was soon delivered—of his own volition, once he was apprised of the news—to Uncle Christopher's doorstep that very evening.
Père-Lachaise Cemetery, Paris, France,2290.17, 1059 hours. Hundreds of mourners packed the walkway toward Uncle Pavel's final resting place and their grief was palpable. His own emotional disarray, combined with the cobblestones beneath his feet and the strong winter wind kept him off-kilter but Rebecca kept a strong grip on his arm looped with hers. Neither felt compelled to speak, nor did they have to.
In recent weeks Selas became aware that a connection existed between them, one that she was not yet witting of and one that he was not prepared to explain. He sensed Rebecca's thoughts and emotions before she expressed them and he found it most pleasing. Selas knew he had to inform her of the connection and he intended to seek out Sa-mekh for advice, however, he had been pre-occupied as of late and Selas did not want to burden him further.
Their parents had returned to Earth at the start of the new year. Uncle Jim remained hospitalized, still too traumatized to provide much information, and so the brunt of the investigation fell upon Sa-meh's and Mama's shoulders. With daily de-briefings and multiple funeral arrangements to make there had been little time for them to re-connect as a family.
Rebecca squeezed his arm then and Selas 'borrowed' her sight. They were approaching the burial site now. Mrs. Chekov sat beside the coffin wailing while Callan stood behind her, one hand on her shoulder in an attempt to console her through his own tears. Beside them stood young Max, tall and straight, with red-rimmed eyes and tear-streaked cheeks.
"Oh God, I don't think I can do this," Rebecca whispered, her step faltering and a lump catching in her throat. She double over slightly and drew in several deep breaths while the other mourners moved around them and pressed on up the little hill.
"Yes you can." He produced a clean handkerchief for her from his pocket. "You are not alone. We will get through this together."
"Together," she whispered again as she dabbed at her face. She took several more deep breaths and straightened. "Ok." They carried on up the hill.
Without any agreement beforehand the children of the Enterprise formed a protective band behind Max. Lillian and Samuel were there in their parents' stead; Kyson came with his parents while Dimora was on a deep space mission and unable to attend. T'Alora was also absent for that reason. Joanna and Tabitha stood beside their sister who continued to cling to his side. And Se'tak, as usual, was late.
13 year old Max did not acknowledge their presence once.
The priest began the service and Selas focused on happier memories of his Uncle. 4.18 minutes later he became aware of a minor commotion at the base of the hill. A security officer was attempting to detain an uninvited guest. He was about to dismiss the event when he heard Sa-mekh break away from the group to investigate. He returned 1.77 minutes later with Se'tak in tow.
"Forgot my ID back at the hotel," he whispered by way of explanation as he joined them. Selas nodded and focused back in on the service. It would soon be Sa-mekh's turn to speak.
Grand Hotel du Palais Royal, Paris, France, 2290.17, 1345 hours. The reception following the service was held in a banquet room more used to hosting state dinners then funeral attendees. Once again by some unspoken agreement the children of the Enterprise gathered at a table that did not include any outsiders. The last time they had found themselves in each other's company had been at T'Alora's bonding which was, without a doubt, a far happier occasion than this current setting.
"I still can't believe he's gone," Samuel declared, breaking them all out of their private, morose thoughts.
"None of us can," Tabitha replied.
"It was all so sudden," Joanna added. "Mom and Dad said there was nothing they could do. He was just gone."
"How are your parents doing?" Rebecca suddenly asked of Lillian and Samuel.
Lillian sniffled and Selas could sense the tension that fairly rolled off of his cousins. Their father's condition was shrouded in secrecy these days. "Mom's ok," Samuel said, "But Dad…he's having a hard time.'
"Have you seen him at all?" Kyson inquired.
"A few times," Lillian managed to reply, "But he doesn't really know who we are. He looks like Dad but his mind-his mind just isn't there."
"And when he does recognize us," Samuel added, "It only amps up his panic. He thinks he's back there and it's…"
"Terrifying," his twin finished for him.
An uncomfortable silence hung in the air between them as they registered the seriousness of their Uncle's condition. It was Kyson who at last broke the stalemate. "How do you think Max is holding up?"
Almost as if they were one the entire table turned their head's in the direction where their cousin, Max Chekov-Daly, was now sitting. He had continued to shun their company just as he had all morning.
"I do not believe that Max is coping well," Selas said, finally contributing to the conversation. Their youngest cousin—who usually hung on their every word—had remained conspicuously apart from them during the funeral proceedings.
"Is there anything we can do for him, you think?" Rebecca asked.
He did not want to answer her and thereby burst the bubble of optimism surrounding her inquiry but Selas knew he must. "As we do not understand the depth of his loss we are not in any tenable position to assist him through this difficult time. All we can do is continue to make ourselves available to him and if and when he chooses to express his grief be present in his life."
"That doesn't seem like much help," Kyson lamented.
Selas squeezed Rebecca's hand and transmitted snatches of memory from his darkest days when he believed his mother had been killed. Rebecca had been present for him throughout the ordeal and assisted him in overcoming the most grim of moments. "I can assure you that your presence will be of far greater assistance to Max than anything else at that juncture."
As a body they all accepted him at his word and waited for their cousin to reach out to them in his hour of need.
* "Vaksurik. Maut vaksurik." = Vulcan, "Beautiful. So beautiful."