Krang and Chrissie stood together in the hallway. Finally, they were completely alone. Neither spoke and an awkward silence developed before Krang broke it. The spontaneity of earlier had gone and the Klingon was aware that Chrissie was once again feeling tense and nervous.
Unfastening the heavy cloak and removing it, he hung it on a hook by the door. Sensibly, considering the mess he'd made of fastening her coat in the restaurant, he let Chrissie remove it without his assistance. Taking the garment from her, Krang hung it next to his cloak. Two smaller coats also hung there, winter coats that he had bought for the children… or rather, he'd sent Marie-Claire shopping on his behalf since he'd had absolutely no idea what was needed… it made the hallway look like part of a normal family home and he found he liked that idea. Krang almost sighed; he'd been alone far too long if he was thinking like that.
Turning back to face Chrissie, he allowed his eyes to sweep her body. The dress she wore had long sleeves and a high neck, covering most of her body. She had dressed, Krang thought wryly, for warmth rather than for seduction. Even so, its dark green colour complimented her skin tones and he was not oblivious to the way the fabric accentuated the curves of her body. A soft growl erupted from his throat and she flushed, instinctively understanding its meaning.
Take it slow, he warned himself. There was no hurry; it was only just after 23:30 local time they had all night and maybe… He shied away from thoughts of afterwards, there was time enough to worry about that later. Krang was aware that she had reason to be nervous. They were no longer in a public place but in his home, a place that she was unfamiliar with and she did not yet know him well enough to trust in his honour.
"Can I get you a drink?" he asked her. "I've developed a liking for Terran wines. I have some rather fine European vintages if you'd like to try one."
Chrissie nodded her agreement. "Maybe a Rioja if you have any," she requested. "But first…" She hesitated, remembering how angry he had been earlier when she had implied her children were not safe in his care; but now that she was here and they were so close, she desperately needed to know for certain, to see for herself. Surely, he would understand that?
"But first, you'd like to see the children?" Krang did understand. It was only right and natural that her first priority was the children. That was as it should be and he had made her wait long enough. "Come with me."
On the upstairs landing, Krang stopped by a door and lifting a finger to his lips in the universal gesture for silence, he opened it, stepping aside so that Chrissie could see into the room. It was a bedroom and asleep in the nearest bed, with her thumb in her mouth and her arm around the battered teddy bear, was her daughter. The second bed contained her son, also fast asleep. Chrissie found her eyes filling up as she gazed at them. They were safe. Krang had told her the truth, her children really were safe. Carefully she reached out and closed the door again, not wanting to disturb the sleeping children.
"They prefer to share a room," he told her, raising a hand to brush away the tear that was slowly making its way down her cheek.
She stilled at his touch, looking up at him. "Thank you," she said quietly. "Thank you for caring for them."
"You can use the room next to the children's," he said gruffly. It would kill him if she did, he thought somewhat melodramatically, but the offer had to be made. To do otherwise would be dishonourable. He wanted her so much it hurt, but it had to be mutual, she had to want him too.
"Is that your room?"
He shook his head. "My own room is a little further down the corridor."
"If you don't mind," she said, slipping an arm around his waist. "I think I'd rather share with you."
Krang didn't mind at all and his growl let her know that. She was slowly getting used to the way he growled; it seemed to take on different tones depending on his mood and right now, it had a distinctly sexual tone that she found very arousing. Suddenly daring, she reached up on tiptoe and kissed him before dancing backwards, out of his reach. "Shall we get that drink now?"
Wanting nothing more than to pick her up and carry her into his bedroom, he nevertheless nodded agreeably. "As you wish, my lady."
"Actually…" She stopped as another need made itself known. "Could you show me where the bathroom is?"
"Of course." He gestured towards a door on their left, opposite the bedroom he had offered her. "It's through there. Use anything you need. I never have visitors here, but Marie-Claire keeps it well stocked just in case."
She raised an eyebrow. "Marie-Claire?"
"My housekeeper," he clarified, adding wickedly, "You need not be jealous. She is married with grandchildren."
"Oh you…" Laughing, she made her escape into the bathroom and shut the door behind her.
The bathroom was, she found, decorated in an old-fashioned style that was very much in keeping with the age of the house, but at some point, the plumbing had been updated. The main feature was the antique roll-top bath with clawed feet and incongruously, a modern electric shower on the wall above it. Nearby was the toilet, a sink, and this being a French house, there was even a bidet.
As he had promised, the bathroom was well stocked with everything a guest might need. There was even deodorant – and she mentally blessed the housekeeper for that. It did not look as though Krang used this room; no doubt there was an en-suite in the master bedroom, but there were signs of her children's presence - two brightly coloured toothbrushes in a glass jar and a tube of equally colourful toothpaste in the strawberry flavour her daughter loved.
Using the toilet, she flushed it and moved over to the sink. Finding a dispenser containing a lavender-scented liquid soap – that would be the housekeeper again; there was no way that Krang had chosen it – she pulled her sleeves up a little to keep them dry, squirted some of the soap into her hands and washed them thoroughly.
Reaching into her bag for the little hairbrush she kept there, Chrissie's hand encountered something else. Wondering what on earth she'd got hold of, she pulled it out and froze… Sarah's phaser - the one her friend had left in her coat pocket when they'd beamed up to the Enterprise. The communicator was in there as well, she remembered.
Panic began to set in as she realised how stupidly dangerous it had been to just put them in her bag.– She remembered with a shiver of fear, how badly they had injured her brother, who had been innocent of all the charges against him. Getting caught with them would get her into serious trouble and no doubt executed as a terrorist.
There had been multiple occasions where she could have been stopped and searched – there had been Klingon patrols all over the place as she had crossed the city and she had visited their headquarters not once but twice! In a time of heightened alert! With a twenty-third century weapon in her bag. And then she'd gone on a date with a Klingon… to a Klingon restaurant. Unbelievably stupid. But knowing the flat had been searched, she'd been too scared to leave them there. With hindsight, the obvious answer would have been to call Enterprise, but she was not completely sure how the communications device worked. Even a radio had more than one channel; what if she accidentally called the Klingons instead?
And now, here she was in the security captain's house and she still had both phaser and communicator. Admittedly, this was probably the one place that nobody would dare to search, but even so, if anything went wrong, then however nice he was being, she knew that would change if he found them. She needed to get rid of them and quickly.
Frantically, Chrissie looked around her, trying to decide what to do. Her eyes fell on the toilet. The cistern, she realised, nobody would think to look in there. Hands shaking, she carefully lifted the lid and looked inside. There was plenty of room and neither item was large. Not much caring if the water would damage them, she dropped first the phaser, then the communicator into the water and replaced the lid.
With the dangerous items safely disposed of, Chrissie breathed a sigh of relief. After that little drama, she really did need to freshen up a bit. Splashing some water onto her face, she dried herself off using one of the large, fluffy towels that were hanging over the radiator, before retrieving the hairbrush and tidying up her hair a little. Her ablutions finished, she glanced in the mirror, checking her appearance. Without the benefit of makeup her face looked pale, but there was nothing she could do about that. Anyway, she reminded herself, he hadn't seemed to mind so far.
Making her way back down the stairs to rejoin him, Chrissie stopped to get her bearings. He had not told her where the kitchen was. The first door she tried opened into a living room that although large and comfortably furnished, had an empty feel to it that suggested that he did not use it much. A faint clattering noise suggested that the kitchen was at the far end of the corridor, but she was curious enough to continue her illicit exploration. The next door she tried was locked and she moved on to the next one. That room turned out to be interesting. Empty of furniture, exotic, bladed weapons hung on the wall, none of which she recognised but that she guessed came from his homeworld. She had no doubt that he was proficient in their use. One in particular caught her attention, a large, crescent-moon shaped blade.
"It's called a bat'leth." The voice came from the doorway, startling her and making her jump guiltily. "In your language, the sword of honour."
Leaving Chrissie to use the bathroom in peace, Krang had gone downstairs. Wandering into the kitchen, he removed his gauntlets and spiked gloves, tossing them onto the heavy, antique pine table in the centre of the room. Opening the wine cabinet, he studied the various bottles. She had requested a Rioja and he had several very good wines that fitted that description. Making his choice, Krang opened the bottle and poured some of its contents into a glass before tasting it. The flavour of the wine was good, even if by the standards of his world, the alcohol level was low - too low for him to get drunk on but that was not the purpose of this evening. Satisfied that his choice was suitable, he poured a second glass for Chrissie and settled down to wait for her.
He had been waiting only a few minutes when he heard the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs, followed by the click of a door opening. Tracking her by sound, Krang was aware of her testing the door of his office, but due to the nature of his work he always kept that room locked down. He hadn't told her where to find the kitchen, he realised. Getting up, he crossed the room and entered the hallway just in time to see her disappearing into his exercise room.
Moving silently, Krang followed, standing in the door and watching her as she admired his weapons, pleased to see she made no attempt to touch them.
At the sound of his voice, she turned to face him. "I… I'm sorry," she said, "I shouldn't have come in here. I was curious."
"You are welcome in my home," Krang reassured her. "I keep my office locked and I would prefer that you do not touch my weapons without supervision since you are not trained in their use, but other than that, you may go anywhere you wish." The Klingon held out a hand to her. "Come, the kitchen is this way."
Taking the offered hand - and noting absently that he was no longer wearing his leather gloves and that for the first time, their hands were truly in contact - Chrissie allowed him to lead her towards the kitchen which, as she had guessed, turned out to be located at the end of the corridor. Once again, Chrissie found herself looking round curiously. The kitchen was large and pleasantly old fashioned, with oak beams across the ceiling, solid pine units and even an aga. It was a kitchen designed for family life and she liked it very much. Overall, Krang's house was not what she had expected. Other than the security guards outside and the weapons on the wall of that one room, there was nothing to indicate that an alien lived here.
Together, they made their way over to the table. Picking up the bottle, Chrissie studied the label with interest, curious to see what he had chosen. Castillo Ygay, Gran Reserva, 1982. She had a good knowledge of Spanish wines and that had been one of the best harvests in the last thirty years. He had not been exaggerating when he had claimed to have some fine vintages, nor had he insulted her with his choice. A deep velvety red in colour, its flavour was smooth and rich and she sipped it appreciatively.
For some time, they simply sat together at the kitchen table, drinking wine and talking. But there was a tension between them and they both knew it. It seemed to Chrissie that the very air was filled with electricity and she wanted more than just to sit here with him and talk.
For his part, Krang studied her, noting the change in her demeanour. The safety of her children must have been weighing heavy on her, he thought. With that worry removed, she finally seemed relaxed and happy in his company and as he watched her, he could see the desire for him in her eyes. Suddenly it was too much; he could sit here no longer. Krang got to his feet, the suddenness of his motion startling Chrissie and making her jump. "Do you want me, Chrissie-oy?"
"I want you," she confirmed, noticing the addition to her name and wondering what it meant. She would ask him later, she decided; right now it did not seem important. Her heart beating so hard, she was surprised it wasn't jumping out of her chest, she stood up and approached him. Pressing herself against him she reached up and placed her arms around his neck, pulling his head down close enough for her to kiss him. Remembering his reaction to her use of his language at the restaurant, she stepped back again slightly and offered him a sensual smile. "Take me to bed, joHwI'."