Walking On Eggshells
Aalin raised her hand, its target the communications panel for Chris' quarters. She then hesitated, finger hovering millimeters above the door chime. This felt like the final moments before a recital. Externally she was poised, internally anxiety swirled like fluttering butterflies. But unlike the utter misery termed stage fright, today hope swirled with the apprehension.
Staring at the closed doors she waited, considering, still unsure whether to stay.
The invitation for dinner reflected Chris' usual casual humor with a slightly self-deprecating tone, one reflecting his humility (mostly) rather than a lack of confidence. His message read:
A proper boyfriend would be showering you with dates. I foolishly have stuck with chats in the mess hall. Let me fix this with dinner tonight in my quarters – Chris.
P.S. Please say yes.
P.P.S. If you don't, I may resort to my command authority.
P.P.P.S. I know you are, as you read this, formulating a clever? remark about my stripes and my propensity for invoking them.
P.P.P.P.S. If I possessed the skills to find and attach a graphic this line would be a dimpled smiley face.
P.P.P.P.P.S. I am not above using said facial feature to ensure an affirmative response.
P.P.P.P.P.P.S. You can't resist them.
In one short note Chris had smoothed the uncomfortable moment from last night after Aalin labeled aloud her view of their relationship, had alleviated her concern at doing so, and in echoing her label of boyfriend had underlined his sentiments without promising more than he could offer. His invitation was immediately and happily accepted.
But now, literally standing on the threshold, second thoughts nudged her to back away. Learning of the events on Talos had provided context for Chris' hesitation about their relationship but not solutions, only warnings. And apprehensions. If I don't know which subjects, which actions, which words are triggers, how do I avoid hurting him?
While she deliberated staying or leaving, the doors whished open.
Chris stood on the other side and facing her. Still. Wordless. Caught up in this woman so beautiful to him. As usual Aalin had dressed simply, tonight in slim dark pants reaching her ankles, a similarly colored short sleeve mock turtleneck, and ballet flats. Honey color hair, its length cropped to a chin-length bob when posted to Noohra, now grazed her shoulders. Some considered her style plain, but he liked its unfussy elegance.
He noted her nervous stance, posture tensed like a doe carefully watching, ready to bolt at the slightest unexpected quiver or noise. This swelled his every protective instinct. Clasping her hand in his, Chris gently tugged her inside. When the doors closed, he didn't let go.
"If you're needed elsewhere," she said and started leave.
"I'm not," he reassured.
"Then why did you open the door? I never rang the notification."
"I sensed you nearby," he said as if his doing so was obvious, logical, and a common occurrence. "Being unable to explain why this is so doesn't render my knowing it as random chance or coincidence." Chris paused giving her time to internalize those words.
His hand lightly squeezed hers, its thumb rubbing her palm. He then said, "This is the point where you say: Hi honey, I'm home. What's for dinner? And I say: How was work?'" A grin formed and his eyes twinkled lending them a mischievous air. "Was your boss impossibly demanding today?"
The tease coaxed a nervous chuckle from Aalin. Then a faint smile followed by a delicate snort and an amused headshake. "You really are too charming for your own good. Or rather my own good."
Chris' eyes narrowed slightly. He leaned closer. Aalin's back rested against the wall, as his head bowed near her ear his cheek grazed hers. When he spoke, his voice was deep, husky, and barely above a whisper, "Oh, I am very, very good for you."
Her breath hitched.
His heartbeat spiked. And a little voice in his head warned, Danger!
Think before you speak, she scolded herself, don't flirt, don't say anything suggestive, don't stoke bad memories, don't put him in a difficult position.
A moment later she dropped his hand and twisted to the side just out of reach. By unspoken yet mutual agreement they lowered the heat between them and focused elsewhere.
Aalin walked to a small table placed near the free-standing fireplace and set for two. Her fingertips brushed a small bouquet of white roses. Low light glowed in the living area from candles on the table and lamps by the sofa. In the adjoining kitchen overhead lights were dimmed. Soft music played in the background, classical rather than Chris' standard playlist, a piece featuring a cello solo. "This is a lovely sonata," she murmured then closed her eyes. "And rare."
Chris leaned against the wall, enjoying her satisfaction in the music and the graceful sway of her back and hips as she accompanied a few measures from memory air bowing and fingering imaginary strings. With reluctance he broke the spell saying in a quiet voice, "I didn't know you played."
Aalin turned, facing him. "Cello?" Her head shook. "I don't, not really. Play that is. More I aspire to play. I was taking lessons before … joining your crew."
He gestured towards the sofa. "But … I don't understand. Didn't you attend a specialized performing arts school? From tenth grade? Why didn't you learn the cello there?"
"From third grade, I was eight years old, which was actually a late start. And unimportant. I wasn't good enough to be selected for the cello group," Aalin replied as she took a seat and accepted a glass filled with a large ice cube, an orange peel, and a deep ruby liquid.
Chris claimed the spot by her side and sipped an amber drink. "But you had electives, right?"
She continued after a negative head shake. "A performing arts school, at least the one I attended, isn't like Starfleet Academy, nor a traditional school. Students don't pick an area, hone their skills, and then prove their knowledge. Majors and minors are chosen based on extensive aptitude testing. My assigned course of study was voice which required piano and woodwind lessons. As well as achieving some proficiency in German, French, Italian, Russian, Japanese, and Finnish."
I know so little about her, he thought. And in that moment Chris welcomed a hereto unacknowledged desire, and I want to know everything, to understand her every nuance. "Woodwind?" he said asking for clarification.
"Flute, mastering it helps strengthen and refine breath control. I begged to learn the harp, I like the ethereal sound, even promised to practice only during my free time, but my parents and teachers said no. You'd never guess how heavy a concert harp is … oh…" Aalin swallowed the sorry she typically included since her tendency for apologizing vexed Chris. "Okay … your turn … some arcane facts about horses."
"No horsey anecdotes tonight." At her quizzical expression he added, "My firm first date rule so there will be a second date. Though, this is your only reprieve."
Chris liked Aalin's laugh: dainty, soft, a hand resting over her mouth as if feeling shy about her reaction.
"Well done you on the music selection," she said.
"Ah … well … not exactly … actually … no. Wish I could take the credit, but it rightly belongs to Spock. He mentioned you and T'Pring share tastes in music, and this is one of her favorites."
"You asked our resident Vulcan for dating advice?"
At times Chris forgot how well interpreters read between the lines. "Is yes the wrong answer?" was the cagy and still deniable affirmative.
"Not at all, I think it's sweet." Without stopping to consider possible ramifications, her hand rested against his jaw, cradling it, gently turning his head until their eyes met. A gesture of appreciation and caring without demands or expectations. Too late Aalin realized what she'd done. Muttering sorry, she held her breath.
Warmth flooded his face and body. After his little voice reassured, safe, Chris leaned into her touch.
Relieved, she exhaled; her hand dropped to her lap. Don't chance again touching him without asking permission first. That's likely a trigger.
Attempting to cover her unease with distraction, she raised her glass. "This is amazing by the way. What's in it?"
"A little of this, a little of that. Close to a negroni. I experimented. But no alcohol so you can indulge in a glass or two of wine with dinner. And I made the carrot soup you like so well."
Aalin smiled. "Are you going to share the recipe? Of either?"
"That wouldn't be in my best interests."
"How so?" she queried.
Chris smiled enigmatically. "You'll figure it out."
After draining his glass, he moved to the coffee table, sitting opposite her. "I get what you're doing. Censoring every word, feeling hesitant about every action. You're unsure what difficult memories might surface because of what you say and do." He glanced away and reminded himself, Use intellect and logic. Think away Talos and what happened there.
Then said, resuming eye contact, and holding her gaze. "And I appreciate it, your care and concern, I do. But walking on eggshells when we are together will exhaust you." He pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "And then you won't want to be with me. Hard things happened on Talos. It was worse for others. Keeping that past contained and in its place is my responsibility not yours." A pause. "Okay?"
After a few moments she nodded. "Okay."
"Hungry?"
Another nod. "Famished," Aalin replied. He held out a hand, resting it on the small of her back after she stood, and escorted her to the table, settling her in one of the chairs before retrieving the first course from the kitchen.
"What surprised you most about Enterprise?" he asked steering the conversation into nonpersonal territory.
"How crowded the ship is. In day-to-day life on board corridors are crowded all hours with bustling crew, with ferried equipment. Parts, supplies, and cargo from overflowing storage bays are stowed in corners, junctures, and crawl spaces. In the promotional vids, the hallways are always neat, tidy, and empty except for VIPs, their entourage, and their escort."
"Just off camera an ensign from Public Affairs is shooing everyone else away." He chuckled. "Right before launching for this five-year tour, we had VIPs on board for the week prior. Una and Phil spent most of it seeking out the filming and crossing shot. I spent most of it listening to the brasses' displeasure at the interruptions my crew's antics caused."
"But you didn't stop them, Dr. Boyce and Commander Chin-Riley I mean?" she asked between bites.
"You are under the mistaken impression my instructions are carefully and always followed."
This time Aalin chuckled. "In other words, you'd have joined in the mischief if the ship's commander wasn't expected to behave."
"Someone has to set a grown-up example." Chris flashed a dimpled grin before admitting, "Yeah."
Dinner passed comfortably; they kept their conversation more casual than personal. For the most part, Aalin managed her promise to not over analyze her every word and deed. The few times a gesture or phrase pricked at the hurts inflicted on Chris by the Talosians, he stared over her shoulder until reforming an equilibrium. During these moments she sat quietly, reining in the urge to intervene and try and soothe his discomfort.
Too seasoned a warrior to declare his strategy a victory this soon, Chris was encouraged. The threads of hope Aalin felt at the beginning of the evening strengthened and lengthened.
"I'll clean-up," Aalin said as she rose and stacked their plates. "Where's your reclaimator?"
He gathered the rest of the dishes and followed her into the kitchen. "Not necessary. I wash them."
She cocked her head to the side. "By hand?"
"Yeah. It's … kind of a thing with me."
"By hand?" she repeated with a puzzled expression.
"It'll be fun," he suggested while draping a dishtowel over her shoulder. "You dry."
Her expression morphed into disbelieving.
He studied her. "Is this a deal breaker?"
"Ah … no … of course not … I like you as you."
Caught off-guard, Chris stepped back and away from her. Most saw his rank first; Aalin saw the person first.
She moved backwards as well increasing the distance between them, giving him breathing space and choices. "Did I say something wrong?"
"No. It's just that … never mind. Not important." He beckoned to her with an outstretched arm, twining it around her waist when she stepped close. He heard: Safe.
Aalin slid arms over his shoulders, clasping her hands around his neck.
His head lowered; she raised on tiptoes. Their lips drew closer.
The voice in his head sounded, Careful.
Chris felt her nose brush against his before Aalin whispered in his ear. The language was unknow to him yet sounded vaguely familiar. He nuzzled the side of her neck.
She whispered again before laying her head and hands on his chest.
Need directed his actions. His hand tilted her chin up, their lips brushed.
His desire for her weaved with unrelated memories. Adrenaline flooded Chris' body; his heart raced. Danger, Danger, Danger.
He moaned, "Anja," before pulling Aalin closer. His lips parted slightly and again lowered to hers.
"Who?" Aalin's hands pushed against his chest as she evaded him.
"What?" Chris asked distracted by an unsettled feeling, looking down as he retrieved the fallen dishtowel from the floor, wiping sweaty palms against it.
She moved, putting the island counter between them. "You called me … Who is …?" Isak's warnings echoed in her head: there are things Chris may never be able to share with you, can you live with that and still accept him? For the first Aalin questioned if she could. "Ah … sorry. I should go." She hurried to the doors.
Trailing her, he repeated, utterly confused, "What?" then barked "Why?" Followed by, "Wait. Stop." This came out as an order.
Chris took a deep breath and calmed his tone of voice. "Why did you pull away? What's wrong?"
Her shoulders sagged. Answering his question was difficult with the lump in her throat. She remained facing the door with her back to Chris. "After we … right before … you called me by another name … Anja."
His eyes closed while accepting the magnitude of the error; his sigh was silent, his head shake almost imperceptible, fingers drummed his thigh. "This … isn't what you are thinking," he tried reassuring.
"You don't owe my any explanations. We both have others in our pasts." Aalin then added, "It's fine. I'm not upset."
"You clearly are." A pause. "Please look at me."
She exhaled slowly, using the seconds to regain her composure then turned in his direction.
"I'm sorry," Chris said. "Truly."
"I know. And really, I'm okay." Her accompanying nod was tiny and unconvincing. "My shift starts at five am. I should go."
"I'll walk you home …" he started.
Her genuine smile in response to this offer soothed a bit of his concern. "Do I have a choice?" she asked.
"Not really, no."
"Tonight, Chris, I need one. Understand?"
Reluctance lost and he nodded slowly. Chris stood in the doors' threshold watching Aalin walk away. She kept her eyes focused on the floor. Neither noticed the officers entering Phil's quarters directly across the hallway.
