The next morning Lilly, citing a need to catchup work after her illness, asks for a raincheck adroitly sparing Chris from conducting the bridge visit inartfully arranged by Sarah. Having always carefully kept his professional and personal lives separated, he quickly and gratefully accepts.

Within an hour his relief morphs into disappointment. A wasted opportunity, he thinks. With a few clever additions to the tour such as stellarcartography and the alternate bridge, I could have spent the entire morning with her rather than sitting alone in my ready room. Our time together is bookended by practicality and limited. No minute of it should be needlessly squandered.

Sighing his thoughts drift to last night's dinner. And Bob's chief of staff Mark. Or rather Mark's focus on and attentiveness to Lilly. Annoyance flashes. Chris stands and paces the room.

Am I jealous?

Of course not. Jealousy is immature and a waste of time. We spent one night together, a very, very good night, but it's not like we are …

Be honest.

Okay. Not jealous. Possessive? No.

Be honest.

Not exactly …

I want to be the sole focus of her attentions. Of her desires.

Truth acknowledged Chris smiles. I have a date to plan … one that will eclipse all previous dates … bad and good.

ooooo

I should have gone through with the tour, Lilly thinks as she checks her appearance. Perceiving herself as plain, she is disappointed further in the tired eyes and pale skin reflected back, both an unwelcome reminder she is still recovering from warp sickness. For once she misses her too rosy cheeks. Maybe spending the morning with him would have avoided the butterflies in my stomach now … or not. Admit it, you like him … a lot … The chime interrupts her internal dialogue.

When she answers the door, Chris' dimpled grin disarms heightening her nervousness. He indulges for a moment, noting that the soft shirt and black pants she is wearing hug and accentuate her curves, that the dark blue color of the shirt deepens her pretty grey eyes. He reaches out and settles a hand against the curve of her face. "You are beautiful."

Pulled back from noticing how Chris' tailored black V-neck shirt flatters not only the greying at his temples but also his well-developed arms and chest reminding he is an accomplished track and field athlete, Lilly blushes and murmurs, "Thank you." From him that compliment feels authentic rather than perfunctory. His remark and that thought envelops her in a warm feeling.

But nervousness creeps back and Lilly rambles, "I hope this is okay, you said to dress for a picnic, but I can't imagine where on a starship you go for a picnic, maybe there's an observation lounge? Or a little used science lab? It has intrigued me all day … Sorry, there I go again, talking aimlessly. Wait, why are you carrying a sweater that is clearly too small for you?"

"Ah, maybe I can come in?"

Lilly grimaces with slight head shake. "Of course. Sorry."

Once inside Chris circles his arms around her waist. "No more apologies. You've used your quota for the evening." He leans down for a kiss.

"What if one is needed?"

As their lips are about to meet he whispers, "We'll find other ways for you to make it up to me …" Straightening he adds, "The sweater is contingency planning as I am aware of your penchant for summer clothes when more warmth is needed."

Lilly smiles at the memory. A chance encounter ending with a walk in the park on a chilly spring night. She in a sleeveless dress. And Chris scolding for her not having a coat before wrapping his own around her shoulders. She plucks at her lightweight shirt. "You said dress for a picnic."

"An autumn picnic," he corrects.

"But this is a starship, the temperature is constant," she protests.

His dimpled smile returns. "No, not everywhere." Taking her hand in his he says, "Shall we?"

Once in the corridor Chris releases her hand and they walk side by side without out conversation. After a turbolift ride and a lengthy stroll he places a hand on the small of her back and guides her into a large bay.

"Wow," Lilly exclaims as she halts. Her head turns taking each detail. Walking to a pine tree twice Chris' height she rubs her hand over the bark and remarks in disbelief, "It's real."

Chris' expression is that of a proud parent. "Yes." He crooks his arm which Lilly accepts, draping one arm through and placing her other hand near Chris' wrist. Leaving the pine trees they move through a small copse of aspens. The bright yellow leaves quake as they walk by.

"They're beautiful. Is this a genetically modified species with golden leaves?" Lilly asks as they pass the last aspen tree.

"Yes and no."

"This is a perfect spot for a picnic," Lilly says tugging Chris back to the aspen grove.

"Hmmm, perhaps. I chose a different one," Chris replies as he nudges her forward. They enter another micro section.

Lilly inhales appreciatively and her mouth curves into a beaming smile at the sight of sugar maples, oak trees, and smaller Japanese maples crowned in orange and red. Blankets are spread on the ground and dotted with large pillows. She shivers and rubs her arms.

Chris hands her the sweater. "In here it's autumn."

"Perfect fit," she says. "How?"

"I guessed. And I have a good memory."

"That's not the question I was …" she halts realizing from Chris' amused expression he understands exactly what her question actually referred to. "Do you use stasis fields … are the leaves always at this stage …" She stops and sniffs. "Crisp air, chilly temperature … it feels like fall. Damp leaves … and earthy truffles … and woodsmoke … it even smells like fall … how is that possible?"

Chris settles her on the ground and sits by her side. "You ask as many questions as my science officer.

"Sitting here," her hand pats the grass, real grass! she thinks before continuing, "It's easy to forget we are streaking through space in a starship. Well done, Captain."

He flashes a sideways smile. Then busies himself opening a bottle of wine deflecting her attention from the slight flush in his cheeks. Handing Lilly a glass he explains, "The leaves will eventually fall, and the trees will rebud in the spring. Here raking leaves is a highly sought-after privilege rather than a chore." Chris chuckles, "It typically turns into a rowdy party. But I pretend not to notice."

"Spring? I don't understand. You compel the trees to bud like forcing flower bulbs in a pot?"

"Not exactly. This is one of five agricultural bays on board. One is devoted to growing food hydroponically. The others to environments native for species on board; artic like Andoria, tropics for the reptilians, and this," Chris sweeps his arm, "mimics the four seasons of Earth over the course of a standard year. No forcing, the trees bud, the flowers bloom, and the plants fruit according to their natural rhythm."

"An indulgence?"

"Yes and no. Constitution class heavy cruisers, of which Enterprise was the first, can operate independently for up to five years without resupply. Though we haven't stayed out that long yet. During her first missions under Bob April we learned there are micronutrients in soils which cannot be successfully replicated and the scant gases in atmospheres are necessary. Their absence effects the health and well-being of the crew. During the last retro fit we addressed that problem. In each of these targeted landscapes the atmosphere is not the composite 'safe for all' air piped through the ship, but native mixtures. And enough fruits and vegetables are grown in the indigenous soils to address any nutrient imbalance." Chris cups her chin. They kiss. "And it's a popular date night spot. Last year one of the Aldabrans miscalculated her fertility cycle and we housed the resultant baby turtles in the tropical bay. I suddenly had twenty godchildren."

Lilly smiles, "You deal with an interesting mix of problems."

Chris returns the smile. It fades when he remembers Enterprise's upcoming schedule. Next year the ship and its crew will leave known Federation space for the first true five-year mission in Starfleet's history.

Unsure why Chris' eyes held a distant sad look, Lilly places her hand on his arm coaxing his attention back.

Pushing down feelings he wasn't ready to acknowledge, Chris says in order to lighten his mood, "Charged with erasing your bad date history, I had to go big." He leans against one of the trees and opens his arms. Lilly nestles into them laying her head on his shoulder and wrapping an arm around his waist. The rapport they experienced that first night in her apartment returns and they talk as if they have been a couple for decades.

As the light slowly fades mimicking twilight, holographic lanterns and candles wink into existence casting their warm glow. Chris delicately runs his fingers through Lilly's long brown hair. "In the sun, I see strands of sunlight and amber and caramel in your hair. Now it's chocolate and dark strawberries. The myriad of changing tones reminds me of the varied colors in space." He grimaces, crinkling his nose and the corners of his eyes. "Which is a compliment; sorry, romance is not natural for me."

Lilly sits up, placing her hand on Chris' chest and gazing into his eyes. "I disagree."

I cannot remember the last time I blushed … until tonight … twice now, Chris thinks. He asks, "Dinner?"

Crossing her legs in a yoga pose and leaning forward towards the basket she replies eagerly, "Yes please."

A thermos contains squash soup. Lilly is about to dip a spoon in her bowl when Chris waves her off. "I have very precise instructions from Enterprise's chef to dress the soup with crème fraiche, chives, pepper, and olive oil. If I don't, he will restrict me to replicated coffee for the next month. And trust me, he knows everything."

"Exactly who runs this ship?" Lilly inquires with a grin.

"He does. As does every other chef and sous chef in the fleet. Along with the XOs and Yeomen."

"And they …"

"Trot me out when an authority figure is required," Chris finishes with a snort.

"That must put a dent in your ego," Lilly teases.

He shakes his head and replies in a serious tone, "If I do my job right, my crew functions as well without me as with me."

"I see," Lilly says. She thinks, And I'd wager none wish to do without you.

Chris hands her a plate. She bites into the sandwich it holds. "Baguette, tomato jam, olive oil, arugula, truffles, butter, and … Pavé d'Affinois. Perfect. How did you know I prefer the milder triple cream to Brie?"

"Your brother offered a few tips," he concedes.

"Oh." Lilly's tone is hesitant. "You talked with my brother again?"

"Several times, keeping him updated on your progress. He's formidable, I like him. Grilled me like a concerned father, even asked about my prospects." Chris chuckles. "Despite the stripes on my sleeve. I felt like a cadet again."

She groans. "He's younger than me yet acts like the older sibling. What else did he tell you?"

"That will remain between he and I."

Lilly examines Chris through squinted eyes. "Anything I can say or do to change your mind?"

"Nope."

"I suspect this is not going to work out well for me."

His answer is an enigmatic expression. Then he holds out his hand in an invitation. "Join me." A moment later Lilly is cradled in his arms, her back pressed against his chest, her legs nestled between his. He whispers in her ear, "I planned a little meteor shower for later. After I impress you with my knowledge of the northern hemisphere's night sky."

Lilly tilts her head up. She says in a tone telegraphing delight, "We're going to stargaze? On a starship? And you claim not to be a romantic."

Chris kisses her forehead.

In what feels like a minute later, he wakes up in Sickbay, lying on a biobed, Lilly hovering over him with a concerned expression. Noticing he is conscious she says in a quiet unhappy tone, "I warned you my dates always end badly."