I am behind on reviews! So sorry, but life has been crazy! I appreciate the feedback, though, it means a lot.

Apologies for the lateness. I had a few projects due this week...finals are approaching. Yuck.

-XXX-

Two months pass swiftly. Over that time I am constantly looking to the skies – as is Khan – certain that Starfleet shall descent at any time. But they do not come. Still, our concern does not falter with the passing of time. Kirk shall surely not lay down his task to retrieving the Augments. The greater the passage of time, the more wary I grow. Khan does not share this fear. He is, if anything, optimistic.

"They have given up," he tells me lazily as he watches me weaving a basket near one of the common fires in camp.

"Would you have given up?" I asked him, not looking up from my work as I wrestled with an unyielding piece of reed.

I could practically feel him frown as he comprehended my point. "No," he admitted. "Though, do you assume that we are so alike, Alya?"

Smiling dryly, I looked up briefly. "I assume nothing."

Khan sent me a less-than-pleased look. "Do not compare me –"

"You're two different men," I agreed. "But you do share a certain determination. There is nothing the two of you would not do for the people you care about."

"That is certainly true," he agreed reluctantly.

"You must regard him at least a little, then, Khan. For everything between you, you were both trying to protect those you love. Is there such fault in that?" I lowered my basket.

"When it conflicts with protecting my crew, yes," he half-growled. "But you do have a fair enough point."

The Augments do not interact with me often. A few of the women will speak to me, though I do not often feel purposefully included - I cannot blame them. I'm an outsider. Despite my loneliness, I am often at a loss as to how to approach them. All of my training as an anthropologist taught me how to objectively observe others – not how to integrate oneself into a group in which you're destined to remain. I need to begin a life here, only, I am finding it difficult to even find friends.

One person does make something of an effort. Patel, a broad dark-skinned Augment with a good nature and a closeness with Khan that I envy. He's something of a second-in-command to Khan, the commander to his captain. On my third day on Cylfax, he found me washing some laundry in the river.

"Oh, you'll not get much clean like that," he said, nodding to my sad attempt at scrubbing with a roughly made brush. "C'mere."

He spent fifteen minutes showing me how to use flat stones for tension, then sat on the bank as I worked, casually chatting.

"Where are you from?" he asked, as though we were just people who'd bumped into each other on the street.

I told him, and he mused on this for a moment.

"I never left the continent," Patel admitted. "Though I heard America was very…progressive."

We talked for almost twenty more minutes, and he offers to help carry my washing back to the central camp. We parted, and I am left with the happy impression that I have made my first friend.

For the most part, I am left alone, to do whatever tasks Khan deems fit for me. This is mostly some form of gathering, occasionally teaching others some basic crafts like basket-making, simple weaving, crocheting, cooking, and glue-making (something I learned in the field, during a 3-month stint in the amazon). I'm also trying to find a way to build a loom. There are plants here with fibers that might be made spun and made into cloth. Unless Khan plans on establishing some form of trade with nearby planets, we needed to start thinking of ways to providing for things like that. A lot was packed in the trunks aboard the shuttle, however, not all of it made it off the ship, and we have nearly 80 people to clothe. Some can be made of the furs and leathers of the meat we gather from the wild life, but that will not take well in this summer heat.

I loathe this busy work he occupies me with, but it is better than lazing about, useless, all day. It only serves to help my image among the Augments. Many still see me as a weakling. A human. Khan's regard protects me, but nevertheless…their thoughts still exist. Luckily, these sentiments are rarely expressed. While I would hesitate to call any of them my friends, I have established some kind of friendliness with several other females. Men, for the most part, keep their distance.

It impresses me, the forethought Khan put into this venture. Among the things on our now-lost shuttle were seeds and a few farming tools, tools for mining of metals and construction. There are also bundles of tarp and canvas, perfect for make-shift shelters. Most of it made it off the ship, giving us a good head start to this colonization.

Khan has kept his distance since the night we return, when he announced to both myself and his family his intentions, the night I made a pathetic attempt at running away. I see him nearly every day, true, but it's for mere snippets of time – hardly enough to say anything, really. I know he is busy, but I am also forced to suspect that he is intentionally creating distance. Perhaps it is to not show favoritism, to give me a chance to be accepted by his family without him hovering around. Or, maybe he's trying to prove some point relating to our connection. I do not know. I try not to think on it.

Khan spends his days supervising various activities – surveys of the land, establishment of housing, the first breaking of land for crops, hunting parties. In the afternoons, he returns to camp to see how things are generally running, to walk among the people and watch them at their tasks.

After dinner, he might confer with a few people, then goes to bed. When small houses were being constructed, he received one of the first ones. It's at the edge of the camp, and is no grander than anyone else's – truly, they are little more than shacks, with no more than one or two rooms and small cots. They are primarily of wood, specifically pine, the lumber being stuck in the ground in a series to create walls, with split lengths being used for the roof. Khan's home is two rooms, with the front room behind little more than a parlor, where he keeps valuables – there are not many, aside from the transporter, clothes, among a few other things.

I know this because I spend a lot of time in Khan's shack. He has all but insisted that I stay with him. The nights I spend outside of his bed are far and few between.

The first night after he's presented with the shack, he approaches me as I picking berries on the ridge. I look up at the sound of rustling leaves. Khan appears below me, climbing up with a measured pace. When he reaches me, I pick up my basket, frowning at him.

"Shouldn't you handing out some orders right now, or supervising some new project?" I ask as I turn my attention back to the bush, pulling off a few plump berries. They're pink-ish, with a unique taste that is reminiscent of blueberries and raspberries combined.

"Who is to say I am not?" he replies. Fingers dip into my basket. He selects several ripe morsels, throwing them back before saying, "The first houses have gone up."

My brows rise. "That's good. I'm sure people were getting weary of sleeping in caves and tents."

"Mine was finished today as well."

"Good for you."

He sighs. "I am pleased, yes." There is a pause. Then – "I expect I shall see you tonight."

I think for a moment. "At dinner?"

We take our evening meal communally, in the center of the camp. Already, benches have been made that circle the common area, the place where speakers stand when presenting. Khan is often in that ring, more so than nearly anyone else.

His lips twitch. "Yes. But also in my home."

I freeze before one branch, my back to him.

"What?"

"I wish to see you tonight, Alya," he says patiently.

I look back. "And if I should not wish to 'see you' in the same manner?"

It is his turn to frown. "I do not think we share the same meaning. I simply want to visit with you tonight. I feel as though in recent weeks I have barely seen you. It troubles me."

At that I feel embarrassed for presuming. Focusing again on my task, I say lightly, "Very well. I'll see you tonight."

-XXX-

After darkness falls, I leave my usual sleeping spot – a soft pile of blankets near the mouth of the overhang where Khan and I had originally set up camp – to make my way to the edge of houses. His is easy to pick out – it is by far from the others, slightly bigger, and possesses a true door. For the most part, the others have mere length of fabric to separate them from the outdoors.

I knock, a little nervous. Khan answers swiftly. His face is cast in darkness, eyes in heavy shadow. So black-and-white, he strikes me as particularly handsome. All of his features are sharpened, the lines of his cheeks and jaw solid and fierce. He pulls me inside without a word, then leads me into his second room.

We sit, side-by-side, on his cot. I am reminded of my college dorm and uncomfortable first experiences with boys. Pushing them from my mind, I try instead to listen to what he is saying.

He is burdened by the stress of starting a new life, a new colony of people. They've got a long way to go before they're subsistence strategies begin to thrive. They are virtually starting from scratch. And while Khans know it to be better than most alternatives, the struggle does not lessen with that knowledge; he fears that they may be forced to seek off-planet aid. That brings with it the threat of Starfleet.

Besides this, he fears for his family. He worries that their loyal towards him wanes. The discontent is minimum. For the most part, they love and respect him. Still, he knows that he put a seed of discord in defending me. He does not regret it, but wonders if it shall come back upon him. He sees that I am doing everything she can to prove my worth to them. Khan is also doing all within his power to aid me. Regardless, he fears.

Telling me all of this, he stares straight forward at the wall. The openness surprises me. We've not had the opportunity to speak in such a manner since we left London. And even then we'd not be so….candid, with one another.

After he finishes, we sit in silence for a time.

"I'm sorry," I say quietly. "I did not know you were so troubled."

"I am fine," he assures me. "Simply adapting."

"You've got a lot on your plate."

His hands find mine. Combined, they sit on the cot between us. My thumb skirts his knuckles. I lean into his shoulder.

"That's why I was created," he says. "I was designed to handle a lot."

I pause. "You never told me. I was taught that you were…engineered. But I don't know much else."

A faint smile brushes his lips. "Yes. I was created under the power of men. Raised by them. But never to be one."

"You were raised by humans?"

His brows rise. "There were no Augments. I was the first."

"Oh. I did not know…so, a sterile childhood in a laboratory."

"No. I grew up in a village. With a family."

Surprised, I look up at him. "Really?"

"Yes. My mother was human. She was…" he drifts off, as though trying to find the right adjectives. "…a good woman. I was taken away when I was still a boy. No one else in my group survived – all of my cohorts perished. When they realized that I was living, thriving, they took me away. I never saw her or my village again."

"Khan," I say, hushed in my shock and sorrow. "I am sorry."

Lips quirking, he shakes his head. "It is in the distant past. I occasionally wonder yes, but it is better that things turned out the way that they did. I have a family now. A family that is more like me."

"Still." I touch his forearm, beckoning him to look at me. "That isn't something that made its way into the history books."

"No, it wouldn't have." He leans back, closing his eyes. I scoot further on the cot, crossing my legs Indian-style.

"This is a very big bed," I remark. "Is everyone's going to be this big?"

Khan cracks an eye, peering at me. "No."

"Hm." I fold my hands on my knees. "Why is yours bigger?"

"Because I requested a larger size," he intones patiently.

"Why?"

"Because I require it."

"Why?"

He visibly grits his teeth. "Must you be so…obnoxious?"

"I'm merely curious," I protest. I lay back, turning my head so I can better see him. The Augment opens both eyes when he feels the shifting of weight against canvas, and he watches me arrange myself.

"Finished?" he asks dryly. I twist my lips. He smiles, closing his eyes again. Then, quietly, he says, "I asked for a larger bed so we could do this."

I blink. "Pardon?"

"I wanted a larger bed so we could both fit comfortably," he says, eyes opening with his words. He watches me, judging my reaction with cautiousness. Gaze flickering across my face, the Augment waits, letting the silence hang.

I swallow. Searching for words, I take a while I respond. "I guess I wasn't expecting that."

He reaches for me. "Stay with me?" he breathes into my ear when I am comfortably against his chest. "Tonight?"

"Tonight, or for the rest of my short human life?" I ask.

I can practically feel his lips quirking. "Both, I think."

-XXX-

So began our routine. Following dinner, Khan goes to his shelter, usually with me in tow. Unless one of us has business – and typically it's him rather than me – we're in bed by what I estimate to be nine or ten. All of my things have been moved into his shack (there aren't many possessions I can claim, honestly, just some clothes and a few of my early attempts at baskets). I have half of the cot, one of the shelves, and a corner where I leave my shoes and dirty laundry. Unlike the Augment, I'm unorganized, perfectly content to let my clothes lie strewn about. Khan has designated a single corner for my use, an area where I might dump whatever mess I please. Other than that, all surrounding spaces are off-limits.

Before bed, I sit on the edge of the cot, brushing my shorn locks (nearly a month after the initial haircut and it's nearly past my jaw) and hum whatever comes to mind. Khan is usually already in bed and half-sits, propped up on an elbow, to watch me. I join him, then we lie together, speaking of events of the day. We don't usually argue, but simple listen.

However, tonight I am discontented. Three months have passed since we came here, and as each day passes our fear of being found diminishes, however my longing for home increases. Some part of me has found peace here. Yet, another part has a deep desire to return, at least for a time. At least to say goodbye, to assure my mother and father that I am well. They've got to be dying – I have no idea what Starfleet has told them, if anything.

Lately this has been weighing on my mind. As I am brushing my hair, I am clearly distracted. No humming, no low singing. Khan, clearly curious, rises from where he lies to sit behind me, pulling me against him, chin resting on the curve of my shoulder.

"You're being quiet."

"Is that bothersome?"

Against my skin, I can feel him smile. "Not the in the least. It is refreshing."

I snort before he continues." However, it is rather unlike you, so I must ask…what is on your mind?"

I consider my words before answering. "I've been thinking about home lately."

A hand touches my forearm, squeezing. "You are home."

I shake my head. "You know what I mean. I've been thinking about my parents…my life…."

Taking a new approach, Khan nuzzles my neck. "Your life is here now. Do not think on the past," he commands quietly. An open kiss is place on my neck – a standard move that typically leads to a heated gasp. "There is only the future before us."

"It isn't that easy." He of all people should know this. "I can't simply forget my parents. They're my family."

He pauses. I've struck a nerve. "Yes…."

"I just need to say goodbye," I say turning in his arms, facing him. "Can you understand that?"

A sigh. "Alya."

"I need to see them," I urge. "I cannot even imagine what they're going through. I am their only child. Khan, I need to talk to them. Tell them that I am okay. Alive. Something. Please, it's killing me to know that they're probably miserable with worry."

"I cannot allow you to go," he says sternly, looking down on me with a harden gaze.

"You don't trust me to."

It's not exactly a question. He doesn't respond. I sigh.

"That is fair enough," I admit. "But if someone went with me? If I didn't go on my own, I could be…monitored. Protected. Someone could make sure I came back."

This suggestion does not please him. His lips press together firmly, eyes no softer. I wrap my arms around his neck, putting my forehead to his. "I want to come back to you. I will not lie, a part of my wishes for my old life but…that was stagnant. I was doing nothing. Here I'm helping people and building a community, a culture…I know I can be happy here, some day. And I don't want to live in a world where Starfleet forever breathes down my neck. I want to be here."

He closes his eyes. "If I should lose you I do not know what I might do."

"You do not need me," I say.

His lips twitch. "You think not?"

My hand touches his jaw. "No, you goose. I mean, I'm nothing in comparison to Alik and Mical, or Nerita, or Patel. I can barely collect firewood, let alone build a house or plow –"

"That is not why I need you," he interrupts. "That is nothing, Alya. I need you for…you."

"Oh." Realization dawns. I draw back, weakly smiling. Embarrassed. "Right, kids. Consort. I forget, sometimes…."

Without warning his lips fall upon mine, crushing me. I squeak as I am forced to lay back against the cot, Khan ravaging my lips, jaw, and throat. When he reaches the tops of my breast he pauses, looking up at me. "You. Not any of your skills, not the children you can give me, all I desire is you."

Stunned, I sink fully back.

"You must know," he insists. "You must, Alya."

"No, I truly did not."

Groaning slightly, he sits up. "You see, then, why I cannot let you."

"No, I don't." I, too, sit up, crossing my legs butterfly-style. Even sitting he lords more than a foot over me. "Because if you cared for me, you would want me to be happy. And I cannot be entirely happy here unless I can say goodbye to my old life."

"If you cared for me," he counters, placing his hands on my knee, leaning in. "I would be all that you needed."

I scoff, making no attempt to hide my incredulity. "First off, no, I believe something a little more fulfilling like a career or achieving my dreams would also be in order. And when did I ever profess any kind of love for you?"

He freezes abruptly, ice-colored eyes locking onto mine. While they are solid, a stormy combination of fear and rage swells within them. I cup the back of his neck. Stiff, he doesn't yield.

"You know I care about you," I murmur playfully, grinning up at him. "Do you think I'd have stake my reputation and career for you if I didn't at least like you?"

Still on-edge, he's wary, even as I kiss his brow. "'That hardly matters now, does it? At least like me?'

"I like you, you tyrant." I lean into him. "I'd like you even more if you would let me go back to Terra. Three days."

Khan hesitates. "Alya…."

"Please?" I whisper. "I'll never ask again. I'll never try to leave you again. Please."

A sigh. "Very well. We'll go within the week."

Smiling brightly I pull him into a kiss. His hands go to my hair – which is now just past my jaw – again lowering us back onto the cot.

-XXX-

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