Loire Valley, France

Monday 7th February 1994

Sometime around mid-afternoon Krang returned from London, but if Chrissie thought that was a good thing, she was sorely mistaken. A morning of coordinating the withdrawal and fielding startled queries from his senior officers and deputies had left him in a dangerously volatile mood and after eating a few bites of the late lunch she put in front of him, he'd abruptly got up from the table without even bothering to thank her for the food and made his way into his private study, only to realise that he was going to have to pack up the equipment in this room as well.

He picked up the photo on his desk, a framed picture of himself and Chrissie, with the two children, standing at the doorway of their house. Grenn had taken it, he remembered, using Chrissie's little camera. Primitive the device might be, but the image was a special one. Bundled up in her winter coat and ridiculous hat with the brightly coloured bobble on it, she was looking up at him and laughing at something he'd said. She hadn't laughed like that for a while, not since that night when, not knowing how else to say it, he'd simply come out with it, bluntly telling her that when he left, despite all his promises to her, he would not be taking her with him.

She would be fine without him, he told himself. She was a beautiful, desirable woman, in his eyes at least, although he knew she didn't think so. She always blushed and looked away if he complimented her beauty, telling him not to be silly and then he'd insist and she'd blush a little more and somehow that led to kisses and… Krang grunted, shifting uncomfortably in his seat as his body reacted to the imagery in his mind and his trousers were suddenly a little too tight. With some effort, he forced his mind away from what he wanted to do to her… do with her… to their mutual pleasure.

Yes, she was beautiful and other men would see that. She would meet someone else, a member of her own species. She would fall in love again and she and the children would forget him and move on with their lives. Just like that, his arousal was gone, replaced by a black, jealous rage at the thought of her making love with another man, being happy, maybe even having another child… Almost without knowing it, his hand found the tankard of bloodwine he'd poured for himself and threw it across the room. It hit the wall with a crash that made him jump, its contents splattering over the wall and dripping onto the floor, leaving an oily, red stain that reminded him of blood… human blood… the blood of the upstart man who dared to touch his mate!

It was not to be borne. And yet… what else could he do? What else could he wish for her? Certainly not a life of loneliness and unhappiness, grieving for what she had lost. He calmed slightly at that thought. No, he wanted her happiness… with him! And that was impossible.

The crash had been loud enough for Chrissie, busy in the kitchen, to hear it and she came running to investigate. "Krang? Are you all…? Oh..." Catching sight of the red-stained wall, she stopped dead, her gaze going from the wall, to him, and back to the wall again. No, obviously he wasn't all right. Silently, she turned and went away again, returning a few moments later with a bucket of warm, soapy water and a cloth, and kneeling down, she began to clean up the mess he had made.

The sight of her like that infuriated him – she was no servant, she should not be on her knees, clearing up after him – and he let out an angry growl. "Leave it."

He had spoken the words more harshly than he'd intended, his anger was at himself after all, not her, and in attempt to control himself, he clenched his fists, digging his nails into his palms. She flinched, stopping what she was doing and looking up at him fearfully, as though she expected him to hit her, and that both hurt and infuriated him further. He would never harm her and the last thing he ever wanted was to make her afraid of him. "Qu'vatlh!" Muttering imprecations, he stormed out of his study, turning blindly towards the front door and barely aware of opening it, he passed through and then slammed it behind him. With that same blindness, he made his way through the gardens, eventually finding himself in the vineyards that reminded him so much of home. Staring out, across the rows and rows of frozen vines, covered in their wintry blanket of snow, stretching out as far as the eye could see, he allowed the sight to soothe him and settle his rage.

"Krang-oy?" Chrissie's quiet voice startled him. In his self-absorbed, self-pitying anger, he hadn't heard her following him. Silently, he turned to face her and waited for her to speak.

A little uncertain of her welcome, Chrissie moved closer to him, but not so close that she was within arm's reach. That saddened him; how had he frightened her so badly she would not come near him?

"I'm sorry if I made you angry," she said hesitantly. "Just… tell me what I've done wrong and…"

"You've done nothing wrong," he interrupted her brusquely. "The fault is mine, not yours." He held out a hand to her and reassured by both the words and the gesture, she moved closer, taking it and allowing herself to be drawn against him. "I am angry because I cannot bear the thought of leaving you."

"Then don't!" she begged him. "Take us with you. I love you. Antonio loves you. Josefina loves you. They've just started calling you Vavoy. They've already lost one father, Krang; don't break their hearts. Don't do this to us!"

His arms tightened around her, almost knocking the breath out of her. "I have no choice, Chrissie-oy. When I return home against the orders of the High Council, it will be all I can do to save Koreth and Kay'vin and the few other officers who are loyal to me. There is no future for me. I had thought that I would return to my work at Imperial Intelligence and you would be safe on my family estate, but I am about to commit treason. Do you think they will reward me for that? If you come with me, you will find yourself stranded, alone and unprotected on a strange planet."

"But…"

"No, Chrissie," he insisted. "You will stay here on Earth, where you are safe. I will not negotiate on this."

"But they'll kill you," she said miserably. "Doesn't that scare you?"

Terrans had very different ideas about life and death, Krang knew and he took a minute or two to wonder how to explain it to her. "No," he said finally. "Death is no more to be feared than birth. It is simply one end of my life. If I fear anything, it is that I will die poorly and without honour."

"No, you won't," she denied. "You could never do anything dishonourably."

Her faith in him was reassuring and with a sigh, he lowered his head and nuzzled her hair with his lips, silently thanking her for the comfort and support that he did not feel he deserved.

"Do you think," she asked plaintively, her voice slightly muffled by his chest, "that we will meet again one day? If God is real, if he's the loving, caring father I'm supposed to believe in, do you think he will let us be together again after we die?"

"I have always believed in Sto-vo-kor," he told her hoarsely. Realising that the word meant nothing to her, he added, "It is the afterlife for the honoured dead, a place where true Klingon warriors will spend eternity fighting and feasting," He gave a bitter laugh, knowing that there was likely to be nothing honourable about his death and no place for him in either Sto-vo-kor or the Black Fleet. It was more likely that he would travel the Barge of the Dead to Gre'thor, but to say such a thing would only add to her distress and so, he kept that thought to himself. And if he did by some small chance find his way to Sto-vo-kor, would she be allowed entrance? He did not think he wanted to be there without her by his side. "Whatever my fate," he promised recklessly, "if there is even the smallest chance that we can be reunited beyond death, then I swear to you that I will wait for you. I will never stop searching for you."

The small hand in his tightened convulsively and her breath caught in a rapidly stifled sob. The thought of his death was both horrific and terrifying to her. Momentarily she remembered the Klingon guard informing her that her husband was to be executed. Any love she'd felt for Diego had been long gone and she'd found that she hadn't much cared. This time it was brutally different and she felt as though her soul was being torn apart.

She was silent for a long time, standing with her body pressed against him and her head leaning on his chest, taking comfort from his presence. "You will not need to wait for me," she said, shaking her head as something occurred to her. "It will not be long until we are together again."

He frowned, not understanding. Was she speaking of suicide? "You must live, Chrissie-oy. Promise me you will not hasten your death. Such a thing would be dishonourable and…"

It was her turn to shake her head as she realised how he had taken her words. "I didn't mean that. It's just… by the time you get home, I will be almost three hundred years in your past and long dead of old age. And be sure of this, Krang…" She stopped, remembering for just a moment, the story he'd told her – how the First Klingon had destroyed the gods who were oppressing his people, but in punishment had been condemned to pilot the Barge of the Dead. No tale told what had happened to his mate; even her name was unrecorded. Had she been allowed to go with him, or had she been forced to live out her life alone? It seemed to Chrissie, that just like that First Heart, Krang was also being punished for doing the right thing, and it wasn't fair. "Be sure of this," she repeated, "I will be waiting for you in the afterlife and if that's not allowed, then I will search for you through life after life until I find you again. You have my solemn vow on that."

Much later, Krang would be horrified when he learned of the comparison she was making. The First Klingon was quite literally the first and greatest of his kind, his tale told down the ages, revered and unforgotten. To compare himself to such a legendary figure was unthinkable. And yet, he would admit to taking a little comfort from the idea. And yet, such stories were meant to inspire, to provide something to live up to. Maybe, when all was said and done, the First Heart was not such a bad role model.

All that was later, however. In the here and now, he simply allowed himself to be soothed by Chrissie's loyalty and her love for him, his arms tightening around her as he placed a tender kiss on the top of her head, taking a moment to appreciate the soft texture of her hair and the faint, sweet scent of whatever shampoo she had used when she'd washed it that morning.

She was shivering, he realised, and he drew back from her although he kept hold of her hand. "We should go back indoors. You are cold."

"I'm fine," she said stubbornly, not quite ready to go back indoors and back to reality. It wasn't quite true. She had no coat on and the cold air was chilling her to the bone.

"No, you are not," he insisted. "You are shivering and your nose is turning red."

"It is not!" Despite the seriousness of their conversation, or perhaps because of it, she felt an overwhelming urge to lighten the moment. "You just don't like the snow." He was still denying that, completely untruthfully, when she broke away from him, scooped up a handful of snow and threw it at him. It landed with a wet splat on his chest and he stared at her in outrage before bending to grab a handful for himself and stepping towards her with menacing intent. Grinning, she threw another hastily formed snowball at him before attempting to dodge his own missile. Losing her balance, she slipped and fell, landing in a heap in a pile of snow.

Immediately, he stopped, an expression of concern crossing his face. "Are you hurt?"

She stayed quiet and still, the hand that was still underneath her reaching surreptitiously for another handful of cold, wet snow. He was a warrior, used to fighting, even if this was a battle of a different kind and surprise was about the only weapon she had at her disposal.

He came closer. "Chrissie?" Bending, he held out a hand to help her up.

Rolling over with a suddenness that caught him by surprise, she let fly the handful of snow. It found its target and before they knew it, they were rolling around in the snow like a pair of children. And then… then his mouth found hers and he kissed her… and just like that, there was nothing childlike or innocent about what they were doing.

"Krang, stop it! We are not doing this out here in the snow!" She was laughing now as he pinned her down, one large, calloused hand reaching under her jumper to touch her. His natural body heat competing with the snow he'd been handling, the fingers caressing her skin were both hot and cold at the same time. The dual sensation was oddly erotic and she shivered, both with cold and excitement.

He paused. "Tell me you don't want this and I will stop."

Chrissie considered that. Yes, he would; he really would stop if she asked him to. And common sense said that if she didn't want pneumonia, she should do just that. She was lying outside, in a field, in the snow, freezing cold and with melting snow soaking through her clothes, and he was trying to have sex with her! Abruptly, she decided she didn't care. Their time was running out and such moments were to be treasured. The children would not be home from school for at least another hour, they were out of sight of the guards – and hopefully out of hearing range as well – and there was nothing to stop her. There was only one answer she could give to his question and it did not involve words. Reaching up, she pressed her lips to his and pulled him down on top of her.

The usual thanks to Solasnagreine, JDC0 and RobertBruceScott for their support and kind words. And thank you to my lovely beta, Linny, who is to blame for them playing around in a snowdrift, although she didn't think they would actually... ahem... (that was completely Chrissie's idea).

Incidentally, Chrissie is not a stunning beauty, she is fairly ordinary although pretty enough. We see quite a change in Krang's attitude towards here, here. When they first met, he didn't think she was beautiful at all, he was just feeling bored, rebellious and wondered what 'it' would be like. He sees her in a very different light now.