Aalin leaned forward from their positions on the sofa. To her, Chris' statement, We're at war, seemed to echo through the room, but she recognized it only pounded in her head.
Casting around for something, anything to negate his words as a fiction, as a bad dream, she reached for his untouched glass of whiskey and, out of character, swallowed half of it in a gulp, coughing and grimacing when the burn ignited her throat and esophagus.
In a deft movement, he slid the glass away from easy reach. "Okay?"
She nodded.
"Water?" he asked.
Aalin shook her head. Her words came out in a croak. "You found out this morning?"
"Yes. I've been … thinking … there's a lot to … sort out."
They had a silent, private language. Smiles and head tilts communicated affection or concern across a room. Twined pinkies gave support in place of an overt PDA. A gentle hand squeeze asked, 'What do you need in this moment?' Her fingers pressed into his palm.
He raised their clasped hands to his mouth, brushing a kiss on the back of hers. Releasing it he opened his arms in invitation and Aalin settled in them. His head rested against hers.
After a lengthy silence he said, "I have to tell the crew."
"May I offer an unsolicited suggestion?"
She felt the slight crease of his brow as he spoke. "You're my wife. All of your opinions and suggestions are welcome."
From many, that reply would be a corny half-truth. Yet it was genuine from Chris. Still, she decided, a little teasing might soften his resistance to sharing these new burdens he carried. With that thought in mind, Aalin pushed up and away from his body and shot him an incredulous look.
He coaxed her head back onto his shoulder. "Okay, okay. Most of your opinions and suggestions are welcome most days. There may be times, here and there, few in number by the way, where I foolishly don't listen."
Aalin patted his chest and said with exaggerated encouragement, "That's better." Her tone then turned serious. "Don't announce this today. Give them one more night of blissful unknowing." She added in her head, And yourself one more night to be a man with his own fears and sorrows before assuming the mantle of leader.
"You're right, tell everyone tomorrow. The command staff as well. Until then, it's a secret we share." His thumb stroked her cheekbone and jawline. "I have no idea what to say, how to find the right words …"
"Talk to me about what you know and what you've read between the lines," she proposed, "It may help you organize thoughts.
Chris spoke after a lengthy pause. "The scale of the attack was massive, and our side lost. We are instructed to remain in place awaiting further orders. The message was short and to the point."
"Ensign Mato's spouse is on Admiral Anderson's ship, the Europa. I had no assignment for him on Enterprise and she turned down my offer of a transfer. Anderson's responsible for the sector where the battle took place. He and his ship would have been in the middle of it. Specialist Moore's sister is on the Yeager which patrols the same area. But I cannot offer our crew any definitive answers about their friends and family." Sadness filled his voice, "I don't have enough information to speak in private with those affected before making the ship-wide address."
"No causality lists?"
He shook his head. "The dispatch to us was sent in the immediate aftermath of the battle when chaos would have still been widespread. At that point survivors may not have reached safe haven. Given Command's brief description of the fight, I'd wager multiple ships were disabled or destroyed and their crews likely did not have time nor options for evacuation." He closed his eyes. "Klingons rarely take prisoners. When they do, well, they don't adhere to any intergalactic humanitarian ethics for treatment of those detained during conflict." His voice grew softer; he stared at a point across the room, eyes unfocused. "They got Isak once. Took my team ten days to find and liberate him. The bastards almost broke him." Isak, Enterprise's security chief was the picture and epitome of strength. Thor incarnate.
Aalin shivered.
Too much, he admonished himself. "Shouldn't have told you that. Nor shared my speculations."
"I'm in this with you. And not made of candy glass. Plus, the bit about Isak, I imagine that information is so highly classified, you can't talk about it with another on board."
He nodded.
"And the opposite is true," she said, "You'll offer the crew hope but won't sugarcoat the facts and possibilities. I find that … what's the right word? Comforting? No, not quite the right term. Anyway, when you deliver good news, it's also unvarnished and trustable."
Aalin raised her hand, fingers straight and spread slightly apart. He pressed his hand against hers. She said, "Please don't settle into one of your protective mindsets and shut me out. When appropriate, I want to share and, if I can, lessen the responsibilities you carry, not be shielded from them."
"Is 'I'll try' a good enough response?" He favored her with a sideways glance. A gesture used when resisting.
"Not especially, but a realistic one. Try hard Chris. And remember how frustrated you get with me when I hold back what is invariably an unimportant issue in order to keep the trivial stuff off your plate. I believe your lectures in those moments start with 'let me decide when I can be a husband and when I can only be a captain.'"
"Anything bothering you, no matter how small you believe it to be, isn't insignificant is my point," he countered.
"Okay. Message received. We'll both try to do better." She rested a hand on his thigh. "This news is three months old. Perhaps the conflict is over, or at least a truce was negotiated. That message could come tomorrow."
"Perhaps," Chris echoed. But a subtle tell in his tone significant only to an intimate negated his verbal half-agreement.
Aalin sensed he was holding back and accepted pushing in this moment would hurt. She stood and tugged on his hand. "I know you'll be working most of the evening and night. First, I need to hold you and be held. To touch and be touched. And I think you do as well. Come to bed."
Later, Chris lay facing the ceiling, the back of his head rested on arms bent across a pillow. Aalin slept curled by his side, her left arm stretched across his abdomen, its hand cupped his waist. When he placed a soft kiss on the top of her head, she snuggled closer.
Sleep had never come and continued to elude him. One thought played in an endless loop. Aalin embraced my career, my home, and made Starfleet her own as well. For me. Because of this she's a soldier now. How can I ever forgive myself?