What Else Is There to Say?

A far away voice called repeatedly annoying like a persistent itch. A close presence hovered. Aalin tried escaping it, but her limbs were numb. The object she struggled against was solid and immovable. She couldn't make out the words.

The voice gently said, "I need you to wake up."

Her fuzzy mind tried forming coherent and linear thoughts – and failed. Heart rate and blood pressure climbed then normalized; oxygen once again flowed to her starved brain jump starting it. The voice grew loud, firm, adamant, then stern, and finally harsh with …

Is that worry? And why are there wake-up calls in purgatory?

Much happened at once. Her eyes blinked open. Aalin attempted piecing together her surroundings and noted she was now sitting on the floor with her back resting against the wall rather than strapped into the shuttle's rear seat. She saw the man kneeling in front of her; his lips moved but high-pitched ringing in her ears prevented hearing his words. The terror of the previous few moments rushed back. Aalin flung her arms around Chris' neck and buried her head against his chest. "Are we dead?" she whispered.

He rubbed comforting circles up and down her back and smoothed her hair. "No. We're fine," he said, managing a reassuring tone absent of the worry felt for her too lengthy return to consciousness.

Her arms remained tightly wrapped around him, he welcomed the close contact and reciprocated it.

Their embrace lingered.

And lingered.

And lingered.

With her head tucked under his chin Aalin could feel Chris speaking. She pointed to her ears and shook her head.

Chris nodded understanding. After indicating with a palm's down gesture she should remain seated, he retrieved the emergency medical kit lying nearby then dispersed medication into her neck via a hypospray. He held up five fingers.

That number of minutes later the ringing in her ears lessened. She said, "I think I can hear you now." With the woozy dizziness abated as well, Aalin got a good look at the man squatting in front of her and the gash starting at his temple running across and up his forehead into the hairline. She reached for him, resting a hand on his cheek while fingers gingerly probed the side of his face. "Chris, you're bleeding. A lot." She tried to stand and pitched forward; he caught and eased her down.

"Not yet, stay put. Wait a bit." Once confident Aalin was stable, safe, and comfortable, Chris continued, "All head cuts bleed profusely, it looks worse than it is. I'll patch it up." He added silently 'Now that I know you're OK.' While tending to the laceration he maintained a reassuring monologue. "I'm not concussed to answer your next question. My only injury is this minor cut. It's not even deep enough to need the dermal regenerator. Though there might be a companion bruise in a day or so."

Aalin nodded. The adrenaline coursing through her body quickly ebbed.

Chris noted her shivering. He settled next to her on the floor and tucked a blanket around her then offered a bottle. "Sip this water."

Craving physical reassurance her arm twined around his and she nestled against his side. "What now?"

"We wait. In three hours we'll miss an expected check-in with Enterprise. That may not alarm them. In ten hours we'll miss our planned rendezvous. They'll send a search team. The shuttle's fuselage is intact. We have vital consumables – breathable air and water. Power systems are down, but the batteries can run life support and other necessary environmental functions for forty-eight hours. Help will be here long before then. Our engines were damaged in the crash as well as other supplies. We'll have to ration the emergency light sticks. Thrusters were also destroyed; the shuttle can no longer achieve escape velocity and won't reach orbit much less fly. The quakes temporarily strengthened the radiation belt surrounding the moon. Not even a subspace squirt could get through until it ebbs even if the communications equipment weren't damaged. I don't know if safe exposure thresholds were exceeded when we traveled through the radiation, so I've given both of us a wide-spectrum inoculation as a precaution." He smiled. "So all in all, not the worst day at the office."

Aalin chuckled nervously. "Really?"

"Really," Chris assured. He batted another concern back. Wait for her to notice. That she hasn't isn't necessarily a bad sign. She's in shock.

"Did I pass out?"

"Yes. The g-forces were eight point six for a few seconds. That's … well not good."

She yawned. "Why am I sleepy and cold?"

"Side-effects of your adrenaline crashing. Both are normal. But try to stay awake for a bit please."

She nodded. Her eyes roamed the shuttle. The chemical lights cast an eerie green glow. Something is … off, nothing is where it should be … no that's not quite right … everything is … Slowly the dots connected. "We're sitting on the wall."

Bingo, Chris thought. Relief flooded and he exhaled audibly.

"And our backs are leaning against the floor," Aalin finished. Her brow wrinkled. "But we are upright."

"The shuttle rolled into a gorge and landed on its side."

Aalin giggled. "I don't know why that's funny."

"Survivor's euphoria. Also normal after what we've been through."

"I suppose all of this is taught at Starfleet Academy."

"Yeah. But here's a secret. All newly minted ensigns need reminding after their first real experience outside the classroom and simulated exercises."

"So I'm not … inadequate to the circumstances?" More than the spoken words, her tone of voice communicated insecurity and a strong need for assurance.

"Not at all."

She snuggled closer. "Were the computer banks damaged? Do you think the data and pictures we collected are lost?"

"Don't know. The specialists will have to sort that out when we return to Enterprise."

Placing a hand on his chest Aalin moved away and held his gaze. "You truly believe we will get back."

"There's no reason not to. I've been stranded before." Chris' head tilted as if sorting through memories. "But never on a moon. This is a first."

His remark had the intended effect. Aalin's mouth twitched. "So another notch in your phaser belt."

"Exactly."

"You have a daredevil streak."

He chuckled. "Phil Boyce would agree with your assessment."

Their conversation lapsed. Aalin pushed the blanket aside. She fidgeted. Wrung her hands. She squirmed. Once the trembling started, she couldn't quiet it. Automatically, instinctually, because he wanted to hold her again, to feel her against him, Chris enfolded her in his arms. Experience with emergencies didn't lesson the edginess and fear of almost having lost her. He understood too well how dangerous the crash had been and how close they both came to death.

Aalin leaned closer and her lips parted. She kissed him. Encountering no resistance her hands slid down his chest. She then moved one hand behind his neck massing it, the other touched his abdomen. Chris exhaled, a contented sigh of desire and longing; his hands caressed her back. When she kissed him again, her tongue swept his lips. Her hand traced lower and provocatively stroked his outer thigh leaving no doubt where she hoped her ministrations would lead.

As her fingers traveled across his inner thigh and inched upwards, Chris held a breath. Pleasure morphed into discomfort; his chest felt constricted as bearing heavy weight. Sweat quickly coated his forehead. He broke the kiss and removed her hands. An exhale quickly followed then increasingly frenetic gulps of air trying to fill his lungs. He felt imprisoned.

Caged.

Unnerved.

His voice was barely audible when mumbling, "I. Can't." Unable to be still, to bear inaction, he pushed her away, jumped up, and paced the small area.

Aalin scrambled to the other side of the shuttle drawing knees to her chest and hugging them tightly. Her shaky voice kept repeating, "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have … I know you're not attracted to me."

Catching up with her words after their third utterance he suddenly halted and asked crossly, "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I shouldn't have come on to you. You've made it clear you don't want me. Not in that way."

Chris' eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared. "I never said that."

"Yes, you did."

"No," he thundered.

"What do think it's not you, it's me means? It's code for this isn't what I want but I don't want to hurt you."

"I said," he emphasized the word, "I wasn't ready. My backing away had nothing to do with you. It was me. All me. I … I …" He paused. Took a deep steadying breath. Movement had calmed the panic. His thoughts were clearing.

Anger didn't hold back her tears. Her eyes pooled. "Oh for heaven's sake. Respect me enough to be honest."

Chris stepped in her direction. She shook her head. He retreated to the opposite wall. "Part of your reaction is due to circumstances …"

Aalin waved a finger. "Don't you dare lecture me on heighted emotions. I can accept my attraction to you, my feelings for you are not reciprocated. But …" her voice faltered.

"Go on," he said quietly.

"What else is there to say?" Her voice was filled with regret. And sadness. The raw vulnerability in her eyes sliced his heart.

"I am attracted to you … I care for you … you are important to me," Chris strongly, adamantly insisted. I want you too much and I can't trust that, he added in his head. "Please believe me. Other factors … are a problem. But the problem is mine."

Her tears now flowed. "I know you wouldn't behave in the same way, but your protests, your explanations … they remind me, they feel like when other guys assured they wanted to be with me and secretly cheated the entire time we were together. I can't go through that again." A pause. "I apologize for violating the boundaries you clearly set. Please forgive me." Aalin laid on her side facing away from Chris and curled into a ball.

He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

Their silence held as the hours passed. Chris watched over Aalin when she dozed ensuring her breathing remained unlabored and steady. When the internal temperature dropped he covered her.

Una dispatched a team after the communications check-in was missed. Without tractor beams of the power wielded by Enterprise, retrieving the broken shuttle proved impossible. An engineer accompanying the rescue party carefully detonated it avoiding further damage of the moon's fragile surface and ecosystem.

Christine Chapel and Matt handled the medical checks during the return flight. "How are you feeling?" she asked Aalin who was sitting in the back of the shuttle.

"My muscles are sore."

"A common aftereffect from the elevated g-forces." Chapel pointed to the red rash on Aalin's arms. "And you have geasles."

In answer to Aalin's confused expression Christine clarified, "G-measles. As the shuttle's freefall accelerated and the g-forces rose, your heart couldn't effectively pump blood and it flooded your limbs, overwhelmed capillaries, and burst them forming small bruises. These will go away in a couple of days and there are no lasting effects. I'll give you an analgesic for the pain. And some anti-nausea medication for the radiation poisoning. That will be out of your system in a couple of days as well. Try to rest."

Approaching the front of the shuttle where Pike sat next to the pilot Chapel motioned Matt over and reported in a soft voice, "There's no brain damage from the oxygen deprivation. How long was she out?"

"At least ten minutes," the Captain replied.

"Too long for g-force syncope," Matt observed with a frown.

"And she experienced acute tinnitus on waking," Pike reminded.

"We'll do a more thorough workup once on Enterprise. Dr. M'Benga should take a look," Christine said. Noting the concern in her commander's eyes she added, "People react differently. Aalin's hearing range is wider than an average for a human. I'd wager the increased pressure from the elevated g-forces impacted on her inner ears extending the typical unconscious interval."

Pike nodded. There was little energy behind it. Uncharacteristically he didn't engage the crew in conversation during the remainder of the trip to Enterprise. Instead he stared out the viewport at the surrounding warp bubble. His subordinates traded concerned glances.