Five Months Ago

Varian Presidential Palace

Pike timed and memorized the route to their guest quarters as well as noted distinctive architectural features for signposts. Six minutes at normal gait, two flights of stairs. No windows for confirming orientation which he judged northeast from their original entrance into the palace, closer to the adjoining mountain range than their beam-in site. Combined with the ten-minute walk from that entrance to the dining room, this heavily patrolled and guarded path was, for now, his and Aalin's only retreat should a quick escape become necessary. Perhaps our rooms are defensible, he thought as they rounded a corner.

Aalin spent their escorted walk reviewing the day's highs and lows: seemingly productive dinner (high if her translations proved accurate), the Captain's heated response to the Varian's inappropriate behavior towards her (high marks awarded for his unwavering line in the sand condemning it and low marks handed down for her choice not to speak up sooner), successful greeting (very much a high), falling asleep in the ready room (low), waking in Pike's arms (undetermined despite liking the sensation of his arms around her and how right the moment felt.) If there is justice in this galaxy, my room will include a large, very deep bathtub, she thought.

Five minutes later.

In the suite assigned to them Chris and Aalin stood side by side staring at the lone bed. Chris rubbed his chin and cast a sideways glance in her direction. She mumbled; he could not make out her words.

She had said, "Is the universe trying to tell us something?"

Simultaneously they turned until facing each other. Pike took five steps narrowing the distance between them and smoothed a lock of hair off her shoulder. They stood frozen, not speaking, eyes searching the other's; Aalin blinked and her hands fidgeted twining fingers back and forth, his gaze remained unwavering. He placed hands on either side of her waist, their bodies inched closer; she heard his heartbeat. His arms encircled, one hand rested between her shoulder blades, one hand settled on the small of her back coaxing her body nearer; he felt her heartbeat. She placed hands on his shoulders.

Chris walked them until the back of Aalin's knees connected with the bed's mattress. His cheek brushed her hair, its fragrance of honey and almonds enticed him. His head dipped lower; the scent of white flowers lingering at the spot where her neck and shoulder met gave him a heady rush. She felt his breath against her neck; her breath hitched.

"Play along," he whispered in her ear and felt her nod against his chest. "Assume these rooms are bugged. Definitely for sound. They may be monitoring us via video as well. No, don't lift your head. My left side, can you reach the pants pocket?"

Her hand traced down accidently stroking his inner thigh. She then nodded.

"Inside is a small scanner." He felt her fingertips brush across his leg. "Bury it in your palm. Good."

She pressed the device into his waiting hand. The other remained on her lower back.

"Talk to me," he quietly instructed. "But not unnaturally loud. And not about work."

Aalin lifted her head and stared into Chris' eyes, questioning.

He whispered, "Conversation masks any sound from the scanner."

"Ah … ummm …" she began haltingly. Why is it so hard to think of something to say? Chris smiled at her; it had the intended steading effect. Aalin said, "I appreciated you taking up for me. I'm sorry if that gratitude got buried during our conversation. And I apologize that once again a decision of mine caught you unawares." She paused. "Okay, to be fair it blindsided you."

Eyes focused on the scanner he motioned his head slightly sideways indicating she should continue.

"When we are done with this assignment, I'll miss our late-night talks."

'Me too,' he mouthed. A few seconds later he said at normal volume, "Done."

Chris reached for her hand and clasped it; Their eyes met, this mutual silent gaze stretched for a minute before Aalin looked away and bowed her head. He stepped closer and tilted her chin up, his fingertips brushed her jawline, his thumb stroked her cheekbone and temple.

Movement and voices from the hallway intruded. The moment passed.

The hand pressed against her back dropped to his side and Chris stepped back. He said softly, "I apologize for the liberties, I needed a diversion."

Aalin sank onto the bed. "It's all right. I assumed it was a ruse."

"Not that it wasn't … nice," his tone of voice was warm and sincere; his words on the cusp of expressing a wish to continue.

Her responding smile hinted encouragement but her eyes spoke hesitancy and unease.

In deference Chris backed away. He continued, "You may speak freely now. There is one camera in the living area. I've neutralized it as well as the audio bugs in all the rooms. It'll look like equipment failure to the Varians."

She held out her hand. He placed the small scanner in it. After gingerly examining the sensor she said, "I've never seen anything quite like this."

"It's not standard issue," he replied while efficiently exploring the rest of the room.

"And?"

"And what?" Chris asked. "I'm going to check out the rest of the suite. Oh be careful what you say, they may find a way to override the jamming field I set up. And you should get comfortable."

Get comfortable? Aalin repeated in her head. Really? That's his advice? As if this situation is a common occurrence for him! She strode into the living area furnished with plush sofas. There large French doors opened into a private garden. "And are you going to ask for another room, or am I?"

"We aren't," Chris replied nonchalantly while rummaging through cabinets and drawers.

Aalin found his seeming indifference exasperating. "Why not?"

He continued multitasking. "Because everything the Varians do, it's information. And information is always valuable especially when revealing assumptions or other tidbits about the way an individual thinks or a culture behaves."

"Even in a simple mix-up with rooms?"

"I'd bet the ranch this is no mistake," Chris replied confidently.

"Oh. Well. Okay then." A pause. "You did notice I didn't argue with you?"

"Yes, but the shock and awe of such an improbable event rendered me speechless," he deadpanned.

"Cute. And your refrain from commenting was brief," Aalin pointed out.

He chuckled. "True." Finished in the living area, Chris opened the French doors and explored the garden filled with flowers and trees. A bench sat near a pond where fish resembling koi swam, and waterlilies floated serenely on its surface.

"Don't you think we should talk about this?" she called after him.

"About what?" he called back.

"Sleeping arrangements. Ours," she clarified. "And this conversation would be easier if I had your full attention."

"What's to talk about?" Reconnoiter completed, Chris returned and leaned against the wall beside the French door's frame.

"I'm shorter, so I'll take the couch."

Chris shook his head and underlined his sentiment with a firm, "No."

"I appreciate your chivalry, but it's the reasonable approach. Did you see any extra pillows and blankets during your shakedown of the bedroom?"

"Not, no I'll take the couch instead of you. Rather no, neither of us will sleep on the couch," he corrected.

"But …"

"Tomorrow is important. Well-rested is essential. The bed sleeps two. We're adults. We can share it," he said matter-of-factly.

"But …"

"This conversation is done. Moving on …"

"But …"

Chris flashed a dimpled smile. "You can trust me."

Aalin pondered if his reassurance was welcome or disappointing. The verdict was a tie and therefore inconclusive. "I never doubted that."

He added, "We've already slept in the same space at the same time in the ready room last night, so the only new bit is an actual bed." A pause. "You can't think of a counter argument for that point, can you?"

Refusing surrender Aalin demanded in an irritated tone of voice, "Give me a minute."

"Take all the time you need," was the magnanimous answer delivered with good humor and a grin. Using the rapt eyes and ears of a soldier he scrutinized her then announced, "We should find you something to eat."

"Are you accusing me of being hangry?" she retorted with a creased forehead, scrunched nose, and narrowed eyes.

"I am not accusing you of anything. Rather I am suggesting your work this evening translating both sides of Ablick's and my conversation during dinner precluded eating a proper meal and perhaps, there is a slight chance, a teensy weensy one, your blood sugar levels need reviving," he answered. "And food will ease your headache."

"How could you possibly have guessed about that?"

"When I am responsible for someone I always know where they are in the room. You rubbed your temples believing no one was watching. And your eyes squinted several times. Yet the lightening was low rather than bright. Ergo, your head hurts."

"Oh. That's … I don't think I've ever been the object of such close attentions before."

Chris thought, you should be, you deserve someone who will seek out and remember your every nuance.

Aalin had started down a different tract rambling, "Who says ergo anymore? As a child I heard it all the time at the dinner table, but who quotes ancient Latin other than lawyers? And doctors?"

"Science teacher fathers," Chris answered. "So have you decided I am right or are you still cobbling together a counter point?" His mischievous grin had returned.

"To which topic? Bed sharing or food?" she queried.

"Either. Both."

"I'm … you … you may be right," Aalin muttered then jumped to her feet heading for the bathroom. "I wonder if this place has a tub."

Chris placed an arm in front of her chest stopping her movement. "Let me check out it out first." On returning he found her standing with arms crossed and tapping her foot impatiently. "All clear," he said, gesturing towards the entrance his permission for her to enter.

"You must be a riot on vacations," she said over her shoulder before shutting the door. Inside Aalin found a bath already drawn. She sat on the edge of the marble tub running fingers through the hot, lightly scented water. Christopher, you constantly surprise. An approachable exterior draws people in and they oftentimes skim over your layered complexity. In the blink of an eye you go from solider to reassuring commander to thoughtful … Unsure how to finish the sentence she focused on undressing and then eased into the much-welcomed bath. It melted stress and combined with the quiet her headache eased.

Pike placed an order with the kitchens and then called Enterprise explaining to Una and Isak his decision of staying planet-side overnight. "Remember this is a public frequency. Next check-in is 8:00am. Plenary session starts at noon, have John beam down at 10:00am. I'll need a fresh uniform and here's a list of things to send for Ms. Matthews. She can add any needed work materials to it in the morning." After severing the link, he tended to the room and retrieved a stack of books discovered in the back of a cabinet.

A soprano voice drifted from the bathroom, "… And when we find ourselves in the place just right, 'twill be in the valley of love and delight." He paused in the middle of moving a chair. The tune sounded vaguely familiar. "When true simplicity is gain'd, to bow and to bend we will not be asham'd, to turn, turn will be our delight, till by turning, turning we come round right." A discrete knock interrupted his attention to this impromptu concert, and he missed the repeated verse. After answering the door and placing the delivered tray on a table, Chris listened carefully and was disappointed to find the song ended.

Fifteen minutes later Aalin emerged from the bathroom in a soft dark blue bathrobe hugging her curves, a belt snugly cinched around her waist. It's length hit mid-calf. She was barefoot and her hair was piled on top of her head with damp tendrils curling around her nape.

Chris started to speak. No, not the appropriate time or place to tell her she's beautiful to me. Instead he asked, "The song, would you sing it again? I missed part of it … it sounds familiar … ah … please?"

Blood rushed to her head flushing her cheeks. "Oh. I tend to sing in the shower. I didn't realize you could hear me."

"It was lovely … I liked it, liked hearing you."

Aalin repeated the verse stopping in the middle without explanation. "'Tis the gift to be simple, 'tis the gift to be free, 'tis the gift to come down where we ought to be, and when we find ourselves in the place just right, 'twill be in the valley of love and delight …" Suddenly she wished her choice of song had been different. Was that Freudian on my part? she asked herself, hoping facial expressions didn't betray her thoughts and feelings.

"Maybe I heard it in church?" he mused.

"Could be. The title is Simple Gifts. It's an old piece originating in the American Shaker community. Some think it's a hymn, some claim it's an instruction song for a dance. No one knows for sure. Aaron Copeland incorporated it into his Appalachian Spring symphony. The Shakers practiced communal living, egalitarianism, and nonviolence." She winced. "Sorry, geeked out there on you for second. I'm sure that's more than you ever cared to know about the song and it's lineage."

"I can recite equine facts to even the score," Chris offered. "And I am interested in all you described."

Warmth spread through her body. "It's so easy to talk with you and laugh with you. I like that."

"Perhaps you bring out my best," he softly replied.

Her eyes looked up at him without raising her head. A tell, Chris had observed, for when she felt shy.

He pointed at the table and instructed, "Soup, eat it all." Then added, "And there's tea. I hope that's okay, I guessed since your replicator requests are often for soup."

She sat in front of the tray and lifted the bowl's cover. "It's what I would have chosen. By the way, you're a bit too fond of giving orders."

The corner of his mouth twitched up. "I'd have thought by now you realized Enterprise is a benevolent dictatorship."

Aalin nodded. "Hmmm, I see your point." Several seconds ticked by. "Commander Chin-Riley is a force to be reckoned with."

"Very funny."

Her smile beamed.

I will miss her when this mission ends. He shook his head to clear it. Enjoy this moment. Think later about the empty ones. "Please repeat. I must confess my thoughts were elsewhere."

She waved her spoon at the rearranged furniture. "Are you expecting unwanted visitors? Or are you a decorator in addition to being an exceptional starship commander and an excellent cook?"

"Not really, no. The garden and hallway door are the suite's only access points. If anyone comes in uninvited, I'll hear them trip over or maneuver around the furniture." Catching her uneasy expression he reassured, "It's habit in an unfamiliar or unknown environment, not an expectation of trouble. I don't know what I don't know. Awareness of the surroundings keeps my crew alive."

"I see, that explains your earlier thorough search of these rooms." Which felt more like a warrior's habit than an explorer's, a deeply embedded soldier's routine, and another curious layer, she added in her head. "Thank you for the food. I am hungry." She tasted a bite. "Not bad but not as good as yours."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"As it was meant. Who taught you to cook?"

"My parents, my father in particular. Grandparents. Practice over the years," he answered. After picking up the books Chris joined Aalin at the table.

"I've seen your days. They are jam packed from waking to retiring for sleep. Yet you make time to cook for your crew. In spite of the perk of an onboard chef," she noted before taking another bite of soup and a sip of tea.

"In a roundabout manner you are asking for my reasons," Chris surmised. "It's a way to come together, of creating camaraderie. Sharing a meal breaks down barriers and encourages active listening opening the possibility of seeing from another's point of view." He stopped for a moment. "And I like to cook."

"As someone who finds preparing food inordinately stressful, I am curious why."

"I never really thought about it, maybe because there is a defined beginning, middle, and end. Plus, the results of the labor are immediate. Often, in my line of work, the true effects of my choices aren't immediately discernable, or may only be judged by historians rather than known in my lifetime. And …"

"Go on."

"It's a way of caring." He held out a book. "I found these tucked away."

Aalin leafed through the pages. "It's in Varian." Her eyes sparkled with excitement. The soup and tea were forgotten. "Do you know how rare this is? The Varians still have an oral tradition despite their technological advancement which is an oddity. Teaching materials, literature, medical journals, scientific papers, all are spoken. Authors release recordings of their creations rather than printed books. I wonder …" her voice faded as she continued staring at the book in her hands.

"You're sorting through a puzzle," Chris commented.

"Huh?" She then nodded. "You guessed right."

"Yes, because when you're perplexed or deeply thinking you wrinkle your nose and nibble on the side or end of your finger or thumb."

She dropped the hand in front of her mouth to her lap. "Before … I never considered … what if their lack of written culture and science is a clue to understanding their language? After millennia if language has primarily and formally developed as an oral communication, which is not only rare but practically unheard of, what might be special about it, how might it be different from cultures whose tradition is written?"

"You should try translating these, maybe they hold answers," Chris encouraged pointing to the books.

"Any paper? And a pen?"

"I'll look."

By the time Chris returned with the requested items, Aalin had fixed the universal translator in her ear and a forefinger trailed down the middle of the words on the page. In quick succession she turned the page and traced down the middle of the next one. And the next and the next. Here and there she repeated words foreign to Chris. At times she chuckled. Several times she blushed. At the mid-way point of the first book she opened another and began the process again. Ninety minutes passed as she worked and Chris quietly waited.

"Interesting?" he finally asked.

"Fiction. Very little plot." She removed the wireless bud from her ear.

"Read some to me?"

She shook her head, vigorously Chris noted. Aalin explained, "All four books are highly erotic."

The Captain cleared his throat. "Making this an awkward segue," he said then paused before continuing, "It's time for bed."