"Doctor, we have a situation in the physiotherapy centre. We need some help down here before someone gets killed."

"What is the problem, nurse?" The young woman sounded more than a little stressed and T'Lia was careful to keep her voice very calm and reassuring.

"I'm not sure, Doctor. The was some sort of altercation between the Klingon patient and the physio team, and then Doctor Kroll turned up and now he's shouting as well. Should I call for security?"

T'Lia was very tempted to say 'yes, call for security', and go back to her work and pretend none of this was happening. Instead, she resignedly got up from behind her desk. "No, I do not think that will be necessary. I am on my way and will be there in a few moments. I will deal with it."

The Physiotherapy Centre was ten decks down from her current location, and deciding that walking would take too long, the healer put in a comm call to Operations, asking for an intrastation transport to deck 912, corridor C.

"Is it an emergency, doctor?"

"There is likely to be at least one murder committed if I do not get there quickly," T'Lia said wryly. "Yes, I believe this qualifies as an emergency."

"Stand by, Doctor. I am organising it now. Do you want me to alert security?"

"No thank you. I believe I will be able to control the situation." She reconsidered. "Actually, it might be advantageous if there just happened to be a security patrol passing through the area… completely coincidentally, you understand?"

"I do understand; I'll get Captain Griffiths onto it straight away. Now… if you're ready to transport?"

"I am ready," T'Lia confirmed. Almost immediately, she felt the beam take her and when the world formed again around her, she was in the corridor outside the main physiotherapy suite. She was in the right place, she discovered; she could hear the shouting almost before her ears had even materialised.

Unaccustomed to having to raise her voice, let alone in Klingon, T'Lia took a deep breath. "yItamchoH! Be quiet!" Somewhat to her surprise, it actually worked, and now that the shouting had actually stopped, she took a moment to study the combatants. Kroll looked absolutely furious. The other, the human, whom she recognised as the physiotherapy department head, was exhibiting distinct signs of nervousness – as indeed most people would when cornered by an angry Klingon.

"Good," she said icily. "Now that we have some calm, perhaps one of you will tell me what this is all about." She held up a hand as they both started to speak at once. "Lieutenant Commander Paignton..." She indicated the Terran. "You will speak first."

Casting a nervous look at the Klingon, the human complied. He'd called Doctor Kroll down here, he explained, because the conflict between the Klingon patient and the physio team was becoming untenable, and he'd wanted some advice from a Klingon perspective on how to resolve the situation. "We have quite literally never had a Klingon referred for physio before," he added. "It turns out that we have no guidelines for that species, and that's something that quite clearly needs to be urgently fixed."

"I consider it unacceptable," Kroll said stiffly, "that in a hospital with the reputation of this one, located on a joint Klingon base, that not only are there no recovery protocols designed for Klingon patients, but the supposedly highly trained, qualified staff seem unable to adapt their standard 'one plan fits every species' protocol to the needs of an individual patient, instead treating said patient in a way that is culturally offensive."

The human started to bristle but T'Lia shot him a warning glance and he subsided. "If there are no protocols available," T'Lia informed the pair, "then you will need to write one. Together. Lieutenant Commander Paignton, you have the knowledge of physiotherapy required to build up muscle mass and so on. Doctor Kroll, you are a trauma expert and have the relevant cultural knowledge. You will collaborate on the project, and I want new protocols agreed and in place by tomorrow morning. Is that understood?"


The shouting had long since stopped in the exercise room, but when the door slid open allowing Kroll, followed by T'Lia and the senior physiotherapist, to enter, the Klingon doctor found its occupants engaged in what he could only describe as a standoff.

Dressed in a plain black tee-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, also black, that Chrissie had brought her husband in the hope that they would be an acceptable compromise, Krang looked tense and unhappy. Keeping a safe distance from him, the physiotherapy team looked equally miserable.

Considering how best to help his fellow Klingon, Kroll had an idea. Some of the simple training exercises he'd used when he'd first been taught to fight, could, he thought, he adapted to fit the situation. "Computer, two adult-sized training mek'leths."

The requested weapons materialised, and Kroll bent and picked them up, giving them a quick inspection. Yes, these would do. He handed one to Krang. "I would like you to follow my lead," he instructed. "We are not fighting, or even sparring. This is an exercise only. Strike and block…"

"That is a children's exercise. I do not need to be taught how to fight!" Krang's protest was automatic, born more of an instinctive need to assert himself and his right to say no, rather than any lack of desire to carry out the requested activity. What the Klingon doctor was asking him to do was more interesting than throwing around that stupid beach ball.

"I'm not trying to teach you how to fight," Kroll said calmly. He was a doctor, not a soldier; he trained regularly and was good with bladed weapons but would never claim to be an expert. "In fact, from what I've heard, I believe you could probably teach me a thing or two. The aim is to train and strengthen your muscles, and to improve your balance and hand-eye coordination so that you can move on to more enjoyable and challenging exercises. Is that acceptable to you?"

Krang nodded slowly. Finally, someone was listening to him, treating him with respect, and understanding his concerns. "I am ready." Without even thinking about it, he dropped into the correct stance, something which Kroll noticed with approval as he did likewise.

Watching the two Klingons sparring – and for all Kroll had said it was only a training drill, it had very quickly become a little more than that – the senior physiotherapist began to understand what was needed. In fact, he rather thought some of these Klingon techniques could be added into the human protocols as well. Most of their patients were Starfleet and had at least some military training. These drills would definitely be beneficial. The thought cheered him up. Maybe working with the Klingon doctor wasn't going to be so bad after all.


Sickbay, Friday 2nd August 2391

"You have power over your mind – not outside events. Realise this, and you will find strength."

The quote was from the Meditations of Marcus Aurelius, a man who, after a little research, Krang discovered had been the ruler of Rome over two thousand years ago, and who was still known to historians as the last of the 'Five Good Emperors'.

The little book he was reading… and it was a real, paper book, an old one written in Latin, thankfully with the English translation next to it… had been a gift from Liam, the tall, enigmatic Ranger whom Antonio had introduced as his partner.

Krang stopped for a moment to think about the implications of that. They were working partners, certainly… colleagues apparently placed together by someone in charge on their world, but the word also had another connotation, a romantic one, and his observations of the pair confirmed that this definition too was relevant.

It was good to see his son being easy with someone, not looking angry or holding himself too stiffly and never quite engaging, but there was something more, something he knew because he'd experienced it. Two people in the beginning stages of an intimate relationship, still finding their way, but already having favourite moments they liked to recount to tease the other – and the story Liam had told about the kitten peeing on Tonio's armour had been hilarious. Trust his son to find the time to rescue a cat in the middle of a battle!

Krang's mouth turned up a bit at the corners. No announcements had been made, and Antonio had been close-lipped on the subject, but his son should know better than to imagine any of this would go unnoticed.

His immediate reaction had been shock and maybe even disgust. These things were not spoken of on the Klingon homeworld, at least not openly, and were not considered honourable, and if any such couples existed, they did so under the radar. But he hadn't lived in that world for a long time, he thought a little sadly, and here on the station, it was perfectly commonplace – and so it should be. In some ways, the Klingon Empire was much less advanced than the Federation. That reaction had been wrong, and he was glad he had not let it show, especially since Chrissie had seemed so happy. So far, he liked Liam, and if he was not a girl… well, he had enough daughters already. Another son would not go amiss.

The matter settled, Krang opened the book again, and flicked forward a few more pages, before stopping to read another quote. "The mind freed from passions is an impenetrable fortress – a person has no more secure place of refuge for all time."

The quotes, he found, resonated a little too closely with his recent experiences and he wondered, only half-jokingly, if the universe was trying to tell him something. It was as though the long dead human emperor was sitting in the chair by his bed and speaking to him face to face. Skipping ahead again, he chose another random page. "Don't be ashamed of needing help. You have a duty to fulfil just like a soldier on the wall of battle. So what if you are injured and can't climb up without another soldier's help?" Well, that was clear enough, he thought. They would be here soon to take him to his next physio session; he would try to remember those words and accept the hands reaching out to help him up.


Saturday 3rd August 2391

Coming awake with a start, Rhiana rolled over and sat up to find that she was not only naked, but Sorahl was with her in the bed, equally naked and fast asleep.

Oh! Of course… they'd had their third date yesterday – of all the ridiculous things to do, they'd gone on a camel ride in Frontera's Western Desert. She had never seen an animal anything like the Terran camel before, and she'd stared at the snooty looking thing in disgust, wondering how in the name of the Elements, one was supposed to sit on that hump. Getting on the animal had turned out to be the easiest part and if it hadn't been for Sorahl's outstretched arm, she would have fallen off when it got up. Really? Couldn't someone have warned her that they stood up hind end first? She'd hung on for grim death as it swayed from side to side, but eventually becoming familiar with the rhythm of its movement, she'd begun to relax and enjoy herself. It was, she thought, going to take some planning to come up with something to beat this for their next outing.

With the third date complete, in accordance with the Terran convention she'd read about, antiquated and ridiculous as it was, they had mutually decided it was time to take their rekindled romance to the next stage. Not that it had been a conscious choice. They were both more than a little intoxicated – kali-fal in her case (or Romulan ale as they called it here, as though there was only one type of ale made in the Romulan Star Empire!) and hot chocolate in his – something that had no doubt played a significant role in her decision to reach up and kiss him. It was funny really, to Rhiana at least, that unlike their Romulan cousins, Vulcans were not affected in the least by alcohol, yet something as simple as chocolate would leave them as high as the proverbial kite. She'd quite deliberately bought him the chocolate drink, and he'd raised an eyebrow and then equally deliberately drunk it. It had all escalated from there, and this time, when he escorted her home, there had been no question of him saying goodnight at the door. Instead, she'd dragged him inside and he had not exactly resisted. Well, why not? They were married after all.

They'd gone on their second date, the ice-skating trip, the day after their bowling adventure, neither of them having wanted to wait a week to spend time together. They'd walked together in the arboretum afterwards, chatting about inconsequential things at first, but sitting on the bench in the park, they'd come to the conclusion that it was time for them to enlist Solkar's help for him to return to her the precious memories he held. He was not a strong enough telepath to do it unassisted, Sorahl told her regretfully. There was too much risk of it going wrong and doing more damage than good.

Solkar had been quick to agree, and they'd made an appointment for Wednesday morning, straight after her trip to the optometrist. That at least had been good news. Rhiana sat nervously in the chair as the eye specialist carried out several tests, including shining a light into her eye to examine the optic nerves directly as she looked up, down, and wherever else he instructed. He was muttering under his breath as he worked, little meaningless sounds like 'Hmm', 'Ah', and 'Uh huh', which did nothing to reassure her and she thought that if he did it one more time, she was going to kill him.

Eventually, he looked up with a smile. "Well, I am pleased to say that there's a definite improvement in your vision; the optic nerve is healing nicely. I'm going to recommend that you wear glasses for a while and…"

"Glasses?" She hadn't been expecting that. Nobody wore glasses anymore, hadn't for a very long time. Still, if it helped her to see, she would do it.

"Yes indeed." The glasses would, he explained, contain sensors that would constantly scan her eyes and adjust the focus of the glass accordingly, so she would have near perfect vision as her eye healed. Oh, and by the way, did she know there was a touch of astigmatism in the other eye?

She shook her head; no, she hadn't known that, and he went on to explain what it meant and that it was probably congenital although exacerbated by the good eye working too hard after the eye injury. "Now," he finished, "if you would like to choose yourself some frames, I'll get them replicated for you."

Almost before she knew it, she'd selected two pairs of glasses, a plain black pair to wear when in uniform, and a nicer pair in dark green with little sparkles to change into when off duty.

Feeling self-conscious in her new glasses, and in need of a little reassurance, Rhiana had slipped her hand into Sorahl's as they walked the short distance from the ophthalmology clinic to the mental health unit. It was not typical for a Vulcan to hold hands in public since it was considered a very intimate thing, but perhaps sensing her increasing nervousness, Sorahl did not object – although something told her that he was working hard to keep his shields up to prevent any telepathic transfer. Instead, he curled his fingers around hers and gave them a reassuring squeeze.

Rhiana did notice a couple of passing Vulcans drop their eyes momentarily to look at their joined hands, and then walk on past without commenting, just a slight tightening of their facial muscles to indicate their disapproval. Rhiana didn't care. She was Romulan, not Vulcan, and she owed these people nothing. The only person with any right to disapprove was Sorahl and since he had not let go of her hand, she had to assume he was fine with it.

It still seemed odd to think that this man was her husband. Not so long ago, she'd wanted nothing to do with him, but in the short time she'd spent with him, she'd come to realise that she liked being with him. She no longer needed her memories to know that she cared for him, loved him, wanted to be with him for the rest of her life.

They were not kept waiting long for their appointment. They'd arrived early and had been there maybe five minutes when Solkar appeared at the door of his consulting room. Greeting them, he invited them to come in and gestured towards the chairs.

"I want you to sit down and face each other," Solkar instructed. They obeyed and he took the third chair, sitting so that he was facing them. "I will meld with you first, Sorahl, and then I will bring you into the link, Rhiana." Satisfied that they both understood and were ready, the Healer reached out to touch Sorahl's face, his fingers spreading out to find the mental contact points on cheek and forehead. "My mind to your mind…" The words, while unnecessary to him, helped the client to focus, and he was aware of Sorahl murmuring them alongside him. "My thoughts to your thoughts…" He felt the other Vulcan lower his shields to allow him access. While part of his consciousness settled into Sorahl's mind, the other part of him maintained an awareness of what was going on around him in the 'real' world. He extended his other hand towards Rhiana. "Are you ready?"

A jerky nod answered his question. "Be calm," he reassured her, understanding that now the moment was upon her, her nervousness was turning to fear. "You need not be afraid; I am here to assist you." She nodded again and he made contact just as he had with Sorahl.

When it was done and she was alone again in her mind – although with the marital bond open once more, she wasn't really alone and never would be – Rhiana sat quietly, a little overwhelmed by what she had experienced. Solkar had guided the transfer of memories, some of which were her true memories, shared with Sorahl at the time of their marriage, and some which were his of their time together. Parted from me and never parted. Never and always touching and touched. There was still healing to be done, but for the first time in months, Rhiana was content.