Chapter 8

"It's like a human tradition, getting drunk to forget your problems," Vic explained to Daggon for perhaps the tenth time, ushering him into the Watchfire.

Daggon nodded slowly. "Then I will get very drunk, Vic," he announced. "I don't wish to remember anything tonight."

"I'll bet." Vic nodded and patted his back. "Grab that table over there. I'll get us a pitcher of beer."

"Okay, Vic." Daggon nodded and started towards the table.

"Who's your friend, Vic?" Jess asked with a smile, watching Daggon's retreating form with obvious approval.

Vic rolled his eyes. He should have known that Daggon in snug blue-jeans would garner that response from Jess. "Name's John Daggon. Buddy of mine."

"He a cop?"


"Yeah. We work together sometimes."

"Not tonight, though?" she asked, looking up at him.


"Nah, Jess, not tonight." Vic shook his head. "Tonight we are drowning John's sorrows."

"Sorrows, huh?" Jess asked, drawing up a pitcher of beer.

"It's the anniversary of his wife's death."

"Ouch." Jess' smile faded.

"Mel out with Julius?" Vic asked as she placed the pitcher on a tray, along with a pair of glasses.

"Nah, at that art class or whatever that she's taking…"

"Ah." Vic nodded. Mel had mentioned something about taking art lessons. Must have been pretty intensive lessons, judging by the amount of her time it consumed. "He treating her okay? This Julius guy?"

"He's great to her, Vic," Jess told him softly.

"Guess I should be happy about that." Shrugging to himself, Vic picked up the tray. "Thanks, Jess. I'm sure I'll be back in a bit. Mar might be joining us later. Point her our way, will you?"

"Sure, Vic. You take care. Both of you."

"Thanks, Jess."

***

Vic and Daggon were halfway through their second pitcher when Maria arrived, the majority having been consumed by Daggon in between wise comments about how unwise overindulgence could be. An hour after Maria arrived, such comments were replaced by rambling tributes to Nallia's inner beauty and generous nature and Daggon had switched to shots.

"She had eyes that could look into your soul," Daggon murmured before tossing back another shot. Even Maria, who had learned how to hold her liquor in the Marines, was wincing by this point. He gazed foggily over at Vic, announcing dolefully, "I can still remember…" He examined the empty shot-glass in his hand thoughtfully for a moment. "I think I should drink more," he decided.

"I think maybe you've had enough, my friend," Maria interrupted, plucking the glass out of his hand. "Why don't we switch you to water, hmm?"

"Nope." He shook his head. "I can still remember the day our daughter was born."

Maria winced again, feeling even more sorry for this man than she had when Vic had told her about the murders in the first place. Nine years past they may have been, but the wound was still fresh. "Yeah. Let's get another bottle of scotch over here, big guy," she murmured, gently rubbing his back for a moment before rising. "Vic?"

Vic shook his head and made a face. "One of us needs to be sober enough to call an ambulance when you two give yourself alcohol poisoning…"

"It was your idea, Vic," Daggon protested as Maria walked back to the bar.

Vic shrugged, not bothering to deny it. "You don't drink. I figured it'd take you two or three shots and you'd be out."

"Out?" he repeated, frowning.

"Asleep."

"I don't--"

"Unconscious," Vic ammended.

"Ah." Daggon nodded faintly and glanced wistfully at his empty glass. "I helped deliver her into the universe, Vic. Did I tell you that?"

"Ashi? Your daughter?" he asked, frowning apologetically.

He nodded. "Helped her be born, took care of her, taught her, loved her…"

"Here's to love," Maria announced quietly, pouring him another shot.

Daggon nodded in agreement with the toast and held up his glass. "Hwa'a, Hwa'a i'an. Hwa'anni, ey tenat anyahka, kal, kal'tra kal…"

Maria raised an eyebrow and glanced from Daggon to Vic, her expression curious and demanding relief from the condition. Vic was a little too busy staring at Daggon to notice.

"Anatha," the Cirronian added bitterly, draining the glass and pouring himself another.

Maria's attention was diverted from the very odd sounds that had just come out of John Daggon's mouth by the fact that he had actually managed to avoid spilling any of his drink.


"What the hell?" she muttered to herself.

"Anatha. It means… screw it, only… more impolite," Daggon explained helpfully as he examined the contents of his glass. "I wonder how many brain cells I've killed tonight. Nallia would have had my hide for drinking half this much…" Shrugging, he drained that glass, too. "Is this the strongest they have?" he asked, frowning. "Because I still remember. Vic said people drink to forget and I still remember," he complained.

Maria frowned and decided that enough was enough. Vic might have been joking when he mentioned alcohol poisoning, but the way this guy was knocking back shots, it was a very real possibility if he did not at least slow down. Three sheets to the wind himself, Vic was not going to be much help to her. Cursing in Spanish, she snapped her fingers in front of Daggon's face to get his attention. His eyes slowly tracked back to her, lingering for a moment on the petite redhead who had just walked into the bar before they finished their journey to Maria.

"Yes, Detective Cruz?" he asked, smiling sweetly.

Maria shook off the effects of that adorable smile and focused on distracting him from drinking any more. "What was that you were saying earlier?" she asked gently. "That toast?"

"Um, it means…" He paused to consider, searching for words in English. "My heart, heart of my heart, I love you with my entire heart and soul, now and forever." He sighed and reached for the bottle.

Maria gave a faint shake of her head and moved it out of his way. "No. You've had enough for now. You can have more later."

Most women her size would not have dreamed of potentially pissing off a man twice her size, but Maria did not hesitate. He did look irritated by the restriction, but he shrugged and muttered sullenly to himself in Cirronian for a moment before rising.


"Where are you going?" Vic asked, frowning.

"Men's room," he explained over his shoulder, staggering in that direction.

"Go make sure he doesn't fall and kill himself," Maria suggested to Vic, shaking her head.

"Yeah, good idea." He rose quickly, immediately wishing that he had moved with a little more caution as the room started spinning.

Maria was on her feet instantly, bracing him upright until the dizziness passed. "Don't you fall and kill yourself either, Vicky," she whispered in his ear. "Oh, and we need to have a long talk later. Now go."

Vic nodded, not liking the idea of a 'long talk' with Maria one little bit. Either she was pissed at him for getting Daggon drunk in the first place or her curiosity about the Cirronian had finally reached a head, no doubt helped along by the fact that he could out-drink her and still remain relative mobile and more helped by his little Cirronian toast earlier. He was going to have to talk to Daggon about speaking the language in public.

It was one thing when it was just them and Aeko, but something else entirely in front of a woman like Maria. She was smart enough and spoke enough languages other than English and Spanish to know that those words had not originated on Earth. Add that to her curious nature and her great interrogation skills and it was all over. He could only hope that she was drunk enough that she might not remember it tomorrow.

When he arrived in the men's room, Daggon was washing his hands, a habit he had picked up since associating with Aeko. How he knew that she always washed her hands in the bathroom, or how she had found out that Daggon had not always been in that habit, Vic was not even going to ask. Daggon had not always been fastidious about it at first because Vic had never thought to make an issue of it. Lots of guys did not wash their hands, after all. Now, though, every time Vic went to the bathroom Daggon would cheerfully remind him to do so.

"Hey, buddy," Vic greeted him quietly.

"Your planet's alcohol is very ineffective on this body, Vic," Daggon announced, grabbing a paper towel and shaking his head. "No wonder Fek-Maln was so popular with the fugitives. Do you know how much Aeko has to drink to replicate that effect in her body?"

"Okay, remember that discussion we had about Aeko and underage drinking? I can't hear this, Daggon."


"She is not underage, though."

"But her body is and that's all my government cares about. It doesn't matter. Look, Daggon, you can not go around speaking Cirronian in front of Maria, okay?"


"Why not?"

"Because she will know that you are not human. It would scare her," Vic sighed. "Look, she's not ready yet. When she is, we'll tell her and she will be a great help to you, but right now is not that time. Let her get to know you a little better first. Okay?"

Daggon nodded. "Okay, Vic."

"Okay." Vic smiled and nodded.

"I miss her so much, Vic," he whispered.

Vic looked up, shocked by his forlorn tone, like a little boy who had just lost his only friend in the world. "I know you do, buddy," he sighed, gently patting his shoulder.

"There are times when I would rather die than go on without them, Vic…"

Vic opened his mouth to respond, but his words were drowned out by a loud sob from the Cirronian. Vic hated dealing with crying adults, absolutely hated it. It had more to do with the reason that most adults cried around him than anything else. Like every surviving parent or spouse the homicide Detective had ever dealt with, Daggon had had a piece of his soul ripped out and the wound was still raw. Sighing, he wrapped his arms around the Cirronian and let him shed some much-needed tears.

Daggon was a little surprised to find himself in Vic's arms, but grateful all the same. As often as Vic was always going on about how Daggon touched people too much, he had seen when his friend needed comfort and had given it to him in the only way he knew how to as a human. The Cirronian considered himself lucky to have been found by the Detective. He could have done far worse for a friend and ally. Clinging to him tightly, he cried until his sobs became sniffles, feeling oddly cleansed by the action.

Vic held him for a few more moments, before gently releasing him and taking a step back. The Cirronian looked drunk and depressed, but not nearly as torn up as he had a few minutes ago. Go out, have another drink or two, then shovel Daggon into a taxi and get him home.

"Ready to go back out?" he asked gently once the Cirronian had managed to compose himself.

"Vic?"


"Yeah?"

"Why is the floor moving?"

Laughing and shaking his head, Vic slung an arm around Daggon's shoulder, steering him back out to the barroom. "Because we finally got you drunk…"

"Oh…"

When they reached the table again, Maria was absorbed in conversation with Mel.

"Hey, sweetie," Vic greeted Mel, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.

Mel grinned and kissed his cheek in return. "Hey, Vic."

"This is my buddy John," Vic added, nodding to the man who was tightly grasping his arm. "John overdid," he added as the Cirronian listed slightly to the left.

"I would say so," Mel agreed. She smiled up at the handsome man hanging on to Vic for dear life. "Celebrating?" she asked automatically, immediately regretting the words. Judging by his red-rimmed eyes, the guy had obviously been crying in the last few minutes. His desolate expression told her the rest of the story. He had lost someone very dear to him, a partner or spouse probably.

"Trying to forget. Vic said my troubles could be drown…ded." He sighed deeply, new tears filling his eyes. "Vic was mistaken, I think…"


"Yeah, looks that way," Mel agreed quietly, pulling a clean tissue from her apron and handing it to him.

"Thank you," he whispered, accepting the tissue from her.

Mel recoiled as his fingers brushed hers, startled by the almost electric contact. That sense of familiarity she had felt with Zin and Lana at their first meetings was here with this man, too, magnified by a thousand. Something else, too: a pull, an attraction, a feeling like she belonged with this man. Not quite sexual, or not entirely, but perhaps even stronger because it lacked that component. This was not a physical attraction. It was a spiritual one.

The tissue fluttered to the floor, forgotten, as Daggon regarded Vic's human friend in quiet wonder. Touching her, the sense he got of the person she was… it was beautiful, like going home. No wonder Vic had once loved this creature. There was nothing not to love. She was amazing, perfect. In spite of the dark cloud hovering about it, her spirit would have been perfectly at home in any Cirronian. She had grief and pain in her life, like he did, and fear in no small measure, but her spirit remained pure in spite of it.

He took a step towards her, instinctively reached for her throat, wanting to feel that spirit more clearly, needing to. She stared up at him, her eyes stunned, making no move to pull away.

When he had reached for her throat in the first place, all she had been able to think of was Zin, of how much he liked to touch her throat and how good it felt when he did. Remembering that buzz she had clearly felt when this man touched her hand, she was expecting more of the same when he reached for her throat. What she felt instead surprised her. Just… reassurance.

She knew that she should have felt intimidated to have a complete stranger pawing at her throat -- she had been with Julius, certainly -- but he was just reaching out, she could tell. It was obvious that he meant no harm. He had felt what she had when they touched and he was curious, that was all. Fleetingly she wondered if it were possible for time to actually stand still for two people. It certainly seemed as though it had, as if everyone else in the bar had stopped moving and was just… waiting.

The moment was over as abruptly as it had started, with Vic grabbing his friend by the shoulder and giving him a shake.

"John, man, what the hell?" Vic demanded, staring at him with wide eyes. Speaking Cirronian was one thing, but getting physical with women uninvited was something else entirely. "You are drunk!"

Daggon never tore his eyes from Mel or even acknowledged Vic's words.

"It's okay, Vic," Mel assured her friend gently, struggling to tear her gaze away from the other man. "He didn't mean any harm."

"No harm," Daggon agreed in a halting voice, touching her cheek with an expression of awe. "You are morah… beautiful."

Mel felt her heart jump at his words. She flushed and bowed her head. "Uh, thanks," she murmured, flustered. Backing away, she bumped into another patron. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said quickly, spinning to face her.

Aeko regarded her sympathetically for a moment before smiling. "You look like you could use a drink, miss," she observed gently. "Good thing this is a bar."

"Uh, yeah." With a hasty nod, Mel retreated to the bar, Daggon staring after her like a love-sick puppy.